He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
Shape of My Heart – Sting
Chapter Sixteen: The Blindspot
Scorpius never gave the glamour a second thought; his focus completely on saving the leg of a scared teenager that had tried to Apparate on a dare.
Which they did.
But only because the scared friends of the boys—and their parents—had turned up at the St. Mungo's with the leg.
After the patient was stable, a representative from the Misuse of Magic Department arrived to collect statements and to lecture them about the dangers of trying to Apparate without a license. Henrietta didn't like how gentle the Ministry employee was being with the boys and took over with graphic details about Splinched body parts while Scorpius stood next to her and pretended that he and Al hadn't done the same themselves at their ages.
Well, not the Apparating part, but…well, anything stupid enough to get them hurt.
Or expelled.
By the time she finished her diatribe, the boys were scared, and their parents looked uneasy.
Not to mention, it was nearly time for training class.
Scorpius gently tapped her shoulder, knowing she was a stickler for punctuality, and made sure he noted the time when she looked irritated by his interruption. Together, much to the relief of the friends of their patients, they made a quick exit, leaving aftercare directions for the team of assistants and Medi-witches; making it to the Muggle ailments ward with fifteen minutes to spare.
The Muggle Maladies department was quiet with staff milling about, but no one paid them any attention. They were used to the extra presence, as their department was where all the safety meetings had taken place as of late. And where the classes were taking place. Scorpius hadn't recognised anyone from the Trauma Ward, but that was to be expected as everyone tended to show up closer to the top of the hour. As wands weren't allowed in the ward, Scorpius checked in his wand with the attendant, who never bothered to glance in his direction.
Henrietta cleared her throat from beside him. "What is that? And if you insult my intelligence by saying that it's a bug bite, I will—"
"It's not," Scorpius heaved a sigh, tired of the conversation topic. "Glamour's don't work here."
The frown on her face was almost cartoonishly deep. "Who did this to you?"
He didn't answer, reaching into the pocket of his robes for the concealer Healer Brown had given him. Without looking, he proceeded to dab the product on his neck. Mumbling something that sounds like boys, Henrietta huffed in exasperation and snatched the tube from his hand. Angling his chin, she glanced at the concealer she'd snatched from him and squeezed a small amount on her finger.
"You're going to need more than this to cover that, but we'll make do." And she proceeded to work on blending it into his skin. "It's fresh," she analysed, much to his exasperation. "You could have healed this—no, you don't like doing magic on yourself." she looked at him hard, while he stared straight ahead. "At the very least, Al could have healed it."
"Al turned my fingernails to stone in Sixth Year."
In the end, Rose ended up trying every relevant spell she'd found in books in the Restricted Section until one of them worked.
"I remember that," Henrietta shook her head. "I'm still trying to figure out what healing spell he did wrong to make that happen. Didn't he singe your eyebrows off during Potions Fourth Year?"
"And Seventh Year."
She chuckled with a small shake of her head.
Henrietta liked Al; potion accidents, charm misfires, and quirks notwithstanding. Like everyone, she found him charming and even-tempered—well, outside of the moments where he showed the volatile nature of his temper. But that part of his personality had only presented itself a few times over the years. Henrietta had been around long enough for her to recognise the warning signs. She could predict Al's pattern of behaviour and adjust hers to fit with his.
With Rose? Not so much.
"Probably for the best, then." Then she went back to work, trying to deduce the reason behind his actions—or inactions. "Still, you had ample opportunity to fix this, which only means—"
Scorpius tensed, cautioning in a low voice. "Henrietta—"
And she ignored him the moment she realised: "Rose did this."
He sighed.
"And I'm right, I know I am, because it's just like her to be so inconsiderate."
He wasn't in the mood for any part of her upcoming lecture. Because there was going to be one. Scorpius could feel it coming. The cease-fire they had agreed on the day Rose had been released, and the subsequent rumours, had kept her quiet for the last few weeks, but it hadn't changed the fact that she still didn't like Rose.
"Look, Henrietta, I'm tired and I don't want to discuss it."
But that wasn't enough to stop her.
Only now, there was the added look of concern on her face that was painfully genuine. It almost made him feel bad about rolling his eyes.
Almost.
"I'm only saying this because I'm your friend, but you can't keep doing this to yourself. I've watched you for weeks now, it's tearing your apart. Meanwhile, she's gone on like she always has. It's—"
"I should have never told you."
He had always taken the approach of keeping Henrietta close, but not too close. However, in a rare moment, he'd let his guard down and told her everything that had transpired on his birthday over butterbeers after work.
And she had reacted as expected.
Later, he'd wondered why had he had expected differently. Perhaps he'd expected too much from her—believing that her ceasefire with Rose would extend beyond Henrietta not glaring openly at her whenever they were in the same room.
He'd miscalculated.
Before Scorpius had even finished telling the story, Henrietta had listed out all the reasons why he'd made a mistake and how Rose's complete lack of response after was a true testament of her platonic feelings.
"You're wasting your time," she reiterated for the second time in three weeks as she dabbed more concealer on his neck that he'd deemed necessary. But what did he know? Henrietta made a frustrated noise and continued, "She's just going to use you and keep telling herself that you're just her friend. Find someone proper – someone your mother actually approves of because that will make your life easier – and put her behind you. It won't work out with Rose because it's impossible for someone as selfish as her to think of someone other than herself."
It wasn't her opinions that irritated him; she was entitled to believe whatever she wanted. It was her tone that grated at him. Her words and manner were cold, sharp like a broken piece of stone. She was steadfast in her belief, unwavering in her opinion of Rose despite evidence that could argue otherwise.
He never like arguing with Henrietta, especially about Rose, because she would immediately dismiss him as biased when he wasn't. At Hogwarts, Scorpius had made it a habit to take Rose to task when she had been wrong or too brutal with her honesty; he always brought her back when she went too far. And because of that, he was completely aware of Rose's flaws and weaknesses. He could outline them in extreme detail with examples, and could even cite his sources.
Henrietta firmly believed that people were like rubber bands: willing to stretch enough for others to believe that they would always maintain their new shape, but inevitably would snap back and revert back to their true selves. To her, Rose would remain the same selfish and temperamental, loud and crazy, situationally motivated slacker with potential she squandered on purpose simply because she could. Because of the privilege that came with being the daughter, granddaughter, and niece of heroes.
But Scorpius knew better; knew that her logic was flawed simply because people were capable of development – capable of change. People just weren't the same at seventeen as they would be at twenty-one. Or thirty. Or fifty.
His father was not a rubber band. He had changed…mostly. He'd grown to be a different man from the boy he'd been in the stories he'd candidly shared with Scorpius. Not necessarily good, but not all bad; different enough to raise him to be the man he'd become.
Granted, his change had come after making all the wrong choices, trauma, and nearly dying.
But that didn't nullify the work his dad had done. His father had taken the time to learn more about the world outside of his own father's beliefs of their superiority and had become more tolerant as a result. Because of his dad, Scorpius believed that if someone really decided to change – if they laid the foundation, put in the work, and sought to be better – they could become more enlightened and change their thoughts and perceptions.
However, the argument about change was pointless.
It didn't matter to him if Henrietta believed that Rose would ever change because he didn't think there was anything wrong with Rose.
Henrietta, like most people, had read Rose entirely wrong.
Of course, there were things he didn't like; irritating things that she would—or likely wouldn't—grow out of as she grew older, found her passion, and became more confident in herself and of her place in their world.
But those things made her Rose, and he appreciated it.
Scorpius thought about letting it go and allowing Henrietta to air her grievances yet again, but as he thought back to his conversation with Al that morning, it made him pause. He recalled each time she had marginalised his feelings for Rose without actually caring how it had made him feel…and well, he refused to have another conversation like that with her.
"You say she's selfish." Scorpius said carefully, "Actually, you say more than that."
"I do," she replied, unapologetic in her opinions.
Which only encouraged him to keep speaking. "You state your opinions firmly, even though you don't know Rose well enough to make any comment on her character with absolute certainty."
Her hand froze for a beat, then continued dabbing with her finger. "That may be true," Henrietta admitted slowly. Scorpius could almost visualise her reluctance to admit that much, but he took it because she rarely gave him that much. And then she continued, "But I can say that she calls you just a friend, even though she keeps you too close. Her actions only confirm my statement."
Before last night and that morning, Scorpius might have agreed.
Over his second cup of coffee that morning, he sat down and really broke down everything from the night of his birthday until last night.
Al had helped with putting everything into perspective because sometimes, a second set of eyes and opinions, made all the difference.
To be fair, Scorpius had received far too much attention for all the wrong reasons by witches and their families who wanted him for what he was set to inherit, but not who he was as a person. And because of that, he could tell the difference between a performance and the real thing.
And, well—the way she kissed and touched him, swore and sighed against his mouth, shivered and moaned against him – that was real. Rose wouldn't fake that, nor would she because that wasn't how she operated.
Last night, Scorpius had been there in the maelstrom with her, but still managed to remember little details. There was her curiosity and fascination. Her focus and the experimental way she moved against him. The way Rose relinquished the control she'd always clung to; it had been a testament of her trust in him. But there was more; her confusion and apprehension. The stress. Oh, and not to mention her panic. There had been so much of it that he could almost smell it burning in the air, taste it on her skin.
But despite it all, she never let him go.
And he realised something.
Rose never had a problem saying no, voicing her opinions, or being a complete and utter shit when someone did something that she didn't appreciate. In Fifth Year, she had punched one of the McLaggan brothers for moving his hands too low while dancing at the Yule Ball. And even though there had been plenty of opportunities, not once had she ever told him to stop or pushed him away. Scorpius had initiated most their kisses, asked for her permission in one way or another, and she had granted it.
Each and every time.
No.
More than granted; she had been an active participant.
But the final kiss? That had been all her, and she hadn't asked. For no other reason than the fact that it had caught him off guard, Scorpius thought about that one more. It stuck out to him. It was clearer. And yet…he couldn't understand why she'd done it, but it wasn't like Rose was ready to offer any answers. After Scorpius reflected on it and reviewed the evidence, he understood not only the deeper meaning behind her request, but the message in their last kiss:
That whether she recognised or understood it, Rose had felt something.
And small flame of hope ignited in him.
He would need it in the weeks to come.
Henrietta mistook his silence as permission to continue stating her case. "Rose is—"
"Not here to defend herself," Scorpius interjected firmly.
Henrietta met his serious gaze and rolled her eyes in response. "I'm positive that you don't chastise her for talking about me when I'm not around."
"She doesn't talk about you, except to note that you don't like her." He recognised that his words were abrupt, but he wasn't in an appeasing sort of mood. The statement didn't bother her at all, judging from the noncommittal shrug she gave. "The feeling, as you know, is absolutely mutual, but she doesn't openly insult you in my presence."
At that, Henrietta looked away and down; her cheeks colouring with something that looked like shame, which was odd. He'd seen her chastened before, but for as long as Scorpius had known her, she'd never felt bad about any of her words or actions – even the ones that had left her friendless for her first year at Hogwarts.
But in the blink of the eye, it was gone.
"Look," she had a pinched expression on her face as she eyed her handwork on his neck. "I feel bad that she was hurt and had her memories altered, but that's the extent that my sympathy goes." And with that, Henrietta handed him the concealer and stepped back. "I'm finished."
"Thank you," he replied with a tight nod, pocketing the concealer to return back to Healer Brown and continuing on with their conversation that wasn't finished. Not in the least. "You're allowed to feel the way you do about her, just like I am."
She heaved a sigh like he was being a complete idiot. "I just think—"
"I don't need you to think." His tone was harsher than intended, but he found himself unable to soften it; the words were just flowing out if him like lava down the side of the volcano right after an explosion, burning any and everything in its path. "I just need your support because regardless of what happens, regardless of if this is a mistake or if it explodes in my face, you're my friend and I need you to act like one."
Her expression shifted from disbelief to anger; fists curling at her sides. "I've always been a good friend to you, Scorpius, but sometimes being a good friend is speaking up when I think you're wrong. That's what I'm doing."
"And that's true, but sometimes being a good friend is letting me figure it out for myself."
"But Rose is—"
Scorpius stepped back. "She might be a lot of things, but she's not the person you've turned her into. She's—" he paused to collect his thoughts then realigned his next words; his conversation with Al still weighing on him. "I'm not perfect, Henrietta, far from it."
At that, she just looked at him, confused by his sudden shift.
"It's true," he fixed his glasses with a quick flick of his finger. "When I'm at work, I make quick and sound decisions, but in my personal life, I obsess and overthink over the decisions I make. I plan too much, so I'm slow to follow through because I'm hyper aware that every single one of my actions has an equal and opposite reaction…and there are risks that I can't calculate before taking them."
Because risking it all and failing had always been his biggest fear.
His boggart.
"The burdens on my shoulders are constantly there, weighing me down. My father encourages me to live my own life, but I'm a Malfoy and that means a great deal, both good and bad. I won't ever be anonymous. No matter that the media says I'm the future of my family; the one to bring the Malfoys into a new age, I will always have to pay for their sins. I will always have to work harder, be better than good enough, act a certain way, and prove myself. But I've accepted it."
Henrietta looked down at her feet.
"I've accepted a lot of things," he told her honestly. "I've accepted that I have other problems; things I don't and won't talk about because they hurt, and frankly, I'd rather not. But Rose knows these things about me and when I'm—"
"You don't think I know any of that?" Henrietta folded her arms across her chest. "You're one of my oldest friends, Scorpius. Hell, you're my first friend." And her cheeks coloured a bit more as she looked past him for a moment. Then, she met his gaze; the bitterness coming off her in waves. "I only figured them out by paying attention because you've never once told me anything too personal. You don't trust me like you trust them."
He knew exactly who she was talking about. And her tone gave him pause; made him think.
Often, he had put Henrietta on the backburner; because he'd assumed that she didn't need attention. He would neglect to invite her places, but figured she didn't want to be bothered or spend any more time around Rose than she had to. And he knew how often he didn't confide in her, but never once thought about how that would make her feel.
He'd been wrong, and for that, he was sorry.
He would do better in the future, and he started right then by being perfectly honest with her.
"I trust you." Scorpius told her candidly.
She said nothing, only listened.
And he talked.
"I just don't share everything because I don't want or need your particularly harsh form of judgment or negativity. Stating your opinion is one thing, but tearing me down for the decisions I've made that you've decided are wrong – that's something completely different. You didn't speak to me for days when I turned down Healer Patil. You have something negative to say about most everyone, and it doesn't make me want to tell you anything that would give you ammunition. I get judged from some of my family. They think I'm too liberal and not traditional enough; they have expectations of me that sometimes aren't reasonable. I don't need the same judgment from my friend."
"I'm not the sort that'll tell you what you want to hear. Perhaps Rose—"
"Rose doesn't even like the fact that I'm friends with you," he bluntly confessed. That particular truth wouldn't ease the tension between them, but it was something she needed to know. "She's never understood why I made friends with the most self-righteous, know-it-all in our Year." Henrietta's entire body tensed; her face unreadable, but composed. "I've always known how she felt, but it wasn't because she expressed that directly to me. She's never used our arguments or your flaws as a reason for why I should cut you out of my life. She understands that I had my reasons for befriending you – reasons I've never told her – and she respects it, regardless of how she feels."
He let that hang in the air before he finished.
"You might not like her much, but perhaps you should take a page from her book."
He knew Henrietta wouldn't say anything further on the topic because he was right. She would revisit it a little later when she was ready. But she surprised him when she dryly asked, "Is that why you like her, then? Because she eases your burdens?"
"No," he replied, more than a bit frustrated with her tone. "The truth is that I don't have a clear answer. I just do."
She was not impressed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I have," Scorpius retorted. "Rose is…important to me. And yes, things are a mess right now—in more ways than you know. Regardless, I've always…"
His brain gave off a warning because he felt he owed her no explanation of his feelings for Rose.
Especially if she was going to diminish them.
And yet, he told her anyway.
"It's the little things. You may think it's stupid, but I just like being in her presence, even if we're not doing anything except eating trifle at midnight, watching terrible films, and tweaking my dittany potion while she's reading, even though she disturbs me by laughing too loud. Rose is quick to tell me to stop being so particular and is always dragging me from my comfort zone."
Scorpius looked down at his feet then back at Henrietta.
"You say she's inconsiderate, but she refused to buy furniture made from animals because her logic was: 'If you don't eat them, why would you want to sit on them?' She knows that I want to travel and went through the time-consuming process of getting a Ministry-approved Portkey to Iceland for my birthday. She refused to let me go back to the hospital alone the night she got attacked because she didn't want me to Splinch myself."
Henrietta dropped her arms to her side.
"And," he continued after swallowing the lump in his throat. "I've realised she's more tuned in than I thought. More than willing to start a war for me when I'm too busy trying to keep the peace."
She stepped closer to him.
"There's more, so much more that I don't even think about. Little things, but she does them expecting nothing in return."
Henrietta was giving him the oddest look, but he ignored it, pressing on even though everything was telling him to shut up.
"My choices are mine to make, and Rose encourages me in her own way, regardless of the outcome. I don't have to prove myself to her, because she doesn't care about any of that shit. I don't have to worry about her acceptance, because I already have it. I don't have to act a certain way around her, because she only wants me to be myself. I don't have to wonder if I'm good enough, because I am."
Scorpius found himself flushed, digging his short fingernails into the skin of the palm of his hands. He wasn't the sort that ranted or showed his hand, but in that moment, he didn't care.
He trudged on, wielding his honesty; voice becoming stronger and more certain with each word that followed, "And so is she, regardless of what you or anyone else thinks." Scorpius clenched his fists in the pocket of his work robes, "You've never liked her because she's not anything you can quantify and predict, measure and mould; and to be honest, I wouldn't like her if she was."
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, not looking at him.
"And honestly, you don't have to like her," he said earnestly, "But I do. And if you care about our friendship like you say – if you care about me at all – you'll respect my decision and respect her…if only for the fact that I—" he searched for a fitting word, found none, but quickly settled on— "Care about her."
Everything was silent and still in the moments that followed; the witch who had checked in their wands was gone. And that was probably a good thing. People gossiped too much for his liking; not to mention, he had just been painfully open with her in a public setting.
As the silence stretched on, his brain started repeating back what he'd said and his stomach started twisting. Finally, just when he was about to walk away, towards the room where they were scheduled to meet for class, Henrietta broke her silence.
"It doesn't sound like you just care for her; it sounds like you love her. If I—"
The doors to the ward opened and two Healers walked in, effectively ending their conversation.
"I heard you got to reattach a Splinched leg!" one of them exclaimed.
Scorpius rolled his eyes.
They were new.
Henrietta eyed him for several second before turning her attention to their peers. And as Scorpius listened to her recount the story to Mathers and Kincaid, Scorpius thought about what she'd said and ignored every subsequent look she'd sent in his direction long after she'd finished and they were settled in their seats in class.
In the romantic comedies Al loved to watch, there had always been a lightbulb moment when the protagonist realised the true depths of their feelings for their enemy—or rather, their unwitting love interest. The moment seemed violent and overwhelming, often blindsiding the character in the worst way. And that realisation had always been followed by fear of the unknown or rejection and maybe some unconvincing denial.
But for Scorpius, his moment of comprehension was different.
There was anxiety that accompanied such a shift, which was to be expected, but there was no denial whatsoever. Overall, it was a calm moment of acknowledgment and acceptance. He found himself no longer scared of destroying his friendship with Rose like he'd been that morning. Al had been right about more than one thing.
Oh, and maybe the pieces he'd put together that morning had been right, too.
How Scorpius felt wasn't something newly realised, but something he'd likely known all along but hadn't really considered. For weeks, Scorpius had struggled with defining and classifying his feelings for Rose. Liking her and caring for her had never felt like the proper words to express the depths of his emotions. Truth be told, he felt stupid because the right word had been in his vocabulary all along.
Love.
The next few hours passed in a flurry of activity and Scorpius found himself paying such close attention in class, he scarcely noticed the passing of time. The lesson that day was fascinating and had them discussing the benefits of cauterization, learning the different methods of how to stop a patient from bleeding, and hands-on experience with stitching cuts and wounds without magic.
It had been interesting to watch Henrietta, who had magically reattached a leg a few hours ago, fumble through threading a needle through a realistic-looking arm. One of the newbies had gotten sick, which had – ironically – prompted their release for a late lunch.
Because they had to clean and sanitise the area.
As if anyone could eat after that.
Henrietta had said as much before leaving to check up on the teenaged splinchers, leaving him alone for lunch in the tea room with Al and Rose. Which was fine. He would likely be early as he told Al to meet him at two-thirty, but a little peace and quiet was hard to come by during the day.
It was usually empty at that time of day, which he preferred. Scorpius was used to people staring at them. That was common, given who they were and the persistent rumours about him and Rose that were still dying down. But Scorpius was tired of random witches leering at Al, everyone pointing at him and Rose while whispering about rumours, or random people passing by just to ask Rose intrusive – and possibly triggering – questions.
So quiet was good.
But when he arrived, only Al was waiting for him at a table just big enough for the two of them to spread their lunches out, bobbing his head to the music coming from the wireless. He had two cartons of food and the entire room smelled like the Asian restaurant down the street from their flat that always made sure to swap their utensils whenever he came in with Al.
Suddenly, he found himself hungry.
He crossed the room, joining Al at the table in the back corner.
"You're early. Been waiting long?"
"No, I was talking to Grathers and Simpson. They told me that Unspeakables started showing up to do guard duty and they just got new orders to report back to the Ministry tomorrow morning."
"Your dad's been busy."
"That's putting it lightly." Al snorted. "He told me that he would leave me until last, as to not show favouritism, but I know he means for me to keep an eye out on things here for as long as possible while Aunt Hermione pulls a few more investigators – that aren't Cauldwell – to help."
"How long before all the Aurors are reassigned?"
"By early May, or sooner, if we catch the person stabbing patients."
"That's a long time."
"I said the same thing, but my dad very well can't immediately pull everyone out. He wants to, because he's angry about what happened, but he's got to think about safety measure as well. The Minister doesn't like that my dad is taking the Aurors out of St. Mungo's before they've made an arrest, nor does he like the fact that Unspeakables will be taking over. Unspeakables don't know anything about apprehending someone that strong, but after Aunt Hermione told him what happened with Rose, he only asked that they not make the transition even more of an interdepartmental shit show than it already is."
Scorpius frowned. "But no consequences for Barracus' actions?"
Al didn't like it, that much he could tell. "None, but he has no control over The Department of Mysteries or the old coot that runs it." He checked each of the cartons to make sure their orders were correct. "It's a dangerous move to pull the Aurors because it's been so quiet lately, but I've never seen my dad as angry as he was when your dad came in and told him that they'd dragged her off."
"I doubt my dad said those words."
"He actually said, 'We've got a problem, Potter. Where's Granger?' Because everyone looks for Aunt Hermione when things go topside. Then, all hell broke loose and since Teddy's off to his assignment in Paris, my dad had James go talk to some of the Aurors that had witnessed it. And I had to barge in on Aunt Hermione's lunch meeting with the South African Minister of Magic. That was awkward." He handed Scorpius a container chuckling. "Vegetable lo mein with extra vegetables for you." He then picked up his chopsticks with maniacal glee. "Orange chicken for me."
"Cheers."
And they started eating.
It wasn't until Al's initial feeding frenzy cooled down that he casually asked, "Where's Rose?"
"Uncle Ron interrupted our Cousin's Day early on by inviting us to test out a new batch of products at the joke shop. So much fun," Al grinned and stuffed his face with more orange chicken. He at least waited until he finished chewing to speak again. That time. "After, he wanted to take Rose to have lunch with Aunt Hermione and invited me along, but I told them I was having lunch with you…and here I am."
Nodding, he continued to make quick work of his food while Al chattered on about the new products. And Scorpius took to silently counting every time he glanced at the door.
It was as if he were waiting for someone.
Scorpius smirked. "Looking for Jane?"
Al instantly blushed and shoved a mouthful of food into his mouth, mumbling. "Fo."
"What was that?" he pretended like he couldn't hear him.
"Fo." Albus glared at him hotly, face still red.
"Liar." Scorpius teased him because he could. Not to mention, he was an easy target. "But if you were looking for someone – maybe Jane – she's making origami for the patients in the children's ward. That is, if you want to go surprise her," he shrugged. "I won't be mad."
He thought about it while chewing and swallowing his food. Then he started rubbing the back of his head as he weighed out his options before coming to a decision. He almost even stood up, but in the end, decided against it. "I don't want to be weird."
"Too late for that."
"Oi!" Albus swatted at Scorpius, who laughed. "You're just disappointed that Rose isn't here."
He casually tilted his head from side to side, refusing to voice the fact that Al was right, but he probably knew it anyway. His conversation with Henrietta had left Scorpius feeling strange and resolved and wanting to be around Rose, all at the same time. Just for a bit. He wanted to argue with her about pointless topics as some sort of bizarre confirmation that things were going to be fine.
Albus grinned and kicked him under the table because – wise words aside – he sometimes digressed back to Second Year as far as maturity was concerned. The kick made Scorpius jump, almost drop his chopsticks and spill Al's water. Then he retaliated, which effectively spilled the contents of Al's cup and started a foot war that ended with them laughing like they were back at Hogwarts and not responsible adults.
"You seem a lot better than you were this morning," Al commented after cleaning the water off the table with a wave of his wand.
"I am."
There was a calm in him that he couldn't explain, a lightness, but Scorpius figured that the talk and the paradigm shift earlier had a lot to do with that.
"…tried to talk to Rose this morning after you left."
Scorpius tried to pretend like he'd been listening, but failed. "I wasn't listening."
"I know," Albus shrugged with a smile, stealing a mushroom off his plate. "I only mentioned our conversation to bring you back out of your head. It worked."
He didn't stop Al from stealing a piece of zucchini, because Al needed vegetables in his life, but still rolled his eyes with resignation. "Since you mentioned it, what did you two talk about?"
Al was still helping himself to Scorpius' food so it took longer for him to answer, "I asked her if there was something wrong because she was quieter than usual. She drank her coffee black and even though she hated it, she refused to put sugar in it."
Now, he was intrigued. "And she said?"
His best friend shrugged, running a hand through his hair multiple times, making it worse. "I—well, she clammed up and then glared at me before proceeding to argue about who would win a hand-to-hand combat: an astronaut or a caveman." Al facepalmed, then dragged his hand down, looking suddenly weary. "I barely made it out of there without getting punched."
Scorpius chuckled.
So, normal then.
But not really.
"I don't think she's ready to talk," Albus stated the obvious. "Not to me anyway."
After making a noncommittal noise, he gathered their trash and sent it to the closest receptacle with a wave of his wand. "I could have told you that."
His best friend just grunted. "She seemed distracted all day, and everyone noticed. Uncle Ron kept giving me looks like I'm supposed to know what's going on in her head. Uncle George looked almost worried."
Scorpius cringed.
"Yeah, that bad," Albus continued, "It was to the point where if a rain cloud formed over her head, I would probably look at it and think 'that fits'. Whatever is going on in that head of hers, it's all storm and wonder. Probably terrifying. I think that had a lot to do with why Uncle Ron took her to have lunch with Aunt Hermione; they've been getting along better these days. It's—"
Something caught Al's attention behind Scorpius.
They had company.
Albus had always been nice, even with people he didn't care for; not truly showing his temper unless someone messed with his family or Scorpius. But there was something about their visitor that had caused his face to go perfectly blank; one hand closed on the table's edge while the other gripped his water cup with a little too much force.
His hackles were raised like his hair; ready to investigate or attack.
"Hello, Creepy," he muttered loud enough for Scorpius to hear.
Al's behaviour struck Scorpius as odd—so much that he went against every one of their previous unspoken 'don't look, don't look, don't look' agreements and did just that.
Then he understood.
The man was tall and thin, and it was his presence that captured Scorpius' immediate attention. He filled the doorway; commanding their attention and demanding their immediate respect. He seemed like the sort of man that believed that he was the smartest person in every room he entered, and most times was correct in that assumption.
He looked as old as his grandfather with contrasting black eyebrows and white hair, which had been slicked back like a character in an all the old black-and-white films he'd watched with Rose's family. His grandfather often dressed in a similar fashion, but he wore casual clothes in an attempt to make himself look more approachable. The man in the doorway didn't care what impression he gave.
He was above it all.
Above them.
And that sort of behaviour only emerged after confirmation of superiority.
Which made Scorpius start paying attention, soaking in as much of the stranger as he could.
His face was thin and wrinkled, but he wasn't gaunt; his face expressionless. Scorpius was used to reading people, it was what made him a good Healer, but the man gave nothing while he stood there. Absolutely nothing. However, it wasn't his abrupt appearance or blank face that made him understand Al's immediate defensive stance. It wasn't the box in his hand or even the fact that he easily towered over him and Al, or his dark blue robes that screamed upper management.
It was his eyes.
He looked at Albus much like a hungry hawk looked at a mouse.
"Forgive my intrusion," he drawled in a deep and chilly voice that matched his aristocratic appearance. "But I am looking to speak with Albus Severus Potter, son of the Head of the Auror Department, Harry Potter."
No one called him that except his mum, and only when he'd done something terribly wrong.
"You've found him," Albus gave a little opened-armed shrug with a head tilt as he leaned back in his seat, appearing relaxed. Scorpius knew better. "Everyone calls me Al or Albus…and you are?"
"My name is Claudius Barracus—" In a move that made him inwardly cringe, they both visibly tensed at the very mention of his name. The man looked pleased in a cryptic sort of way that made him sit straighter in his chair. "It appears that my name has travelled quickly through this hospital. All good things, I hope."
It took everything in Scorpius not to react, but Al?
Not so much.
"What the bloody f—"
He kicked Al, hard, pulling one of Hermione's signature death glares. He had seen it enough times to pull it off perfectly. The last thing any of them needed was for Al to lose his temper too early.
But he knew better than to expect Al not to lose it at all.
He was a Potter, after all.
Barracus wasn't simply there to introduce himself. He wanted Albus to talk, and if he knew any better, his statement had been the first attempt at accomplishing that goal. Scorpius quickly calculated that their best bet was to keep a levelled head and a unified front.
Meanwhile, Al shot Scorpius a blistering glare, but wisely said nothing else; seemingly coming to his damn senses. At least part of them. His eyes briefly cut to Scorpius' wand on the table, then back.
No, he replied with a small shake of his head.
Terrible idea. Their next move had to be just as strategic as Barracus' first.
The man may have looked old, but there was nothing feeble about his brain.
He had planned everything.
He'd showed up at the right time, in the right place, and on the right day to speak to Al…on his day off. How had he known Al would be there? Not only that, but he hadn't looked at Scorpius once. Not even when he was 'looking' for Al, which meant he had known his target before he'd even appeared in the doorway.
Scorpius had more questions, but first, they needed to determine the purpose of his visit.
And they couldn't if Al started hexing first and asking questions seconds.
"Allow me to properly introduce myself," he moved his free arm in a flourishing motion. "I am Claudius Barracus. I am the Head of the Department of Mysteries," he announced because with the Department of Mysteries now taking over the investigation—something they had only just found out that morning in a memo—his position held enough weight to mandate their respect. "If you have a moment, Albus Severus Potter, I would like to speak with you."
Al stood, face even; making sure his posture was straight so he looked as tall as he wasn't. He looked ridiculous, but whatever worked. Scorpius decided to remain seated, watching, waiting; preferring to maintain his current presence as a blip of nothing in the man's radar.
Scorpius thought Al would continue with an air of false politeness and retort with a barrage of sarcastic remarks; that perhaps Scorpius' warning looks had been received and understood, but he should have known better.
Hermione's looks had a shelf life of two minutes, after all.
Al's fists were balled up at his sides when he showed just the beginning of the temper Scorpius knew him to have, "You and I have nothing to talk about."
Shit.
Al was too far to kick. He was also angry.
Rightfully so.
Barracus fully entered the room; his presence even more unassailable with every step he took towards them. In a move that almost seemed strategic, he stopped almost ten paces away from their table; twelve from where Al stood ready to grab Scorpius' wand and damn every consequence to hell in the name of family. He sat the box that he had brought with him on an empty table right next to him, running a thin finger on the extravagant green bow on the top.
The box was white and was dressed like a present.
Scorpius had no idea who it was for; only that they wouldn't be accepting it.
The song on the wireless changed to an obnoxiously upbeat song comparing love to pumpkin juice that almost distracted Scorpius because it didn't fit the tense atmosphere of the room.
Barracus gestured to Albus in a move that seemed almost friendly. "You are an Auror," and rested that same hand delicately on his chest, "And I am overseeing the investigation into the murders occurring in this hospital. We are colleagues," Al snorted and rolled his eyes, causing Barracus, who didn't like the slight, to narrow his eyes; his voice lowering. "Furthermore, we have a mutual…acquaintance, if you will."
He scoffed. "After what you did to my cousin, you have some nerve to call her an acquaintance."
Well, it wasn't something Scorpius would have said, despite being a true statement.
Actually, the fact that Al wasn't swearing was extremely impressive.
"I did not want to mention names, but alas…"
"If that's all you want, you may as well leave right now. You're wasting your time and mine."
But Barracus wasn't taken aback by Al's hostility; he seemed to expect it. When he lowered his head, he seemed almost subdued; his posture deceptively tense…like he badly wanted Al to believe him. "What transpired between my team and your cousin was a rather unfortunate event, I assure you. Please send Miss Weasley my sincerest apologies."
Years of etiquette classes told Scorpius that his actions, although intended to be perceived as sincere and apologetic, were not.
"I won't, you self-righteous tosser."
Ah, there it was, the name-calling. Right on time.
The sharp look Scorpius gave Al only made him fold his arms, standing taller. Defiant. And that marked the end of any influence he had on his best friend. They all were in deep shit now. He only hoped Al had enough sense not to flip the entire board in sheer spite before Scorpius could figure out what game Barracus was playing with him.
Or…
Maybe that was what he should do. End it. What better way to end a game than to kick the board across the room? Maybe then they would discover his purpose for approaching him, his reason for the game, and just what sort of goal he had hoped to accomplish.
People always revealed too much during disorder.
So, Scorpius sat back and let Al unleash chaos.
"I don't care about you, your title, or the fact that you're head of a department; keep my cousin's name out of your mouth. Don't go near her, don't even think about her!"
"And if I do not?"
"Then you're going to have a problem. Not with just me, but my entire family."
"It is already too late for that."
"Get out."
Barracus' mouth twitched at Al's acerbic tone; all sincerity of his previous words bleeding away, revealing an empty coldness that was likely the true Barracus. His tone was smooth like a snake and Albus was the prey that he had set his sights on. "You have inherited your father's temper, I see. I did not expect that."
"I've been told that my temper is like my mother's, which is far worse."
Which was true.
And then Barracus did something he didn't expect: he sighed, sounding tired as he seemingly set aside his superiority. For a moment, Scorpius couldn't tell if he was being genuine and quietly scrambled to read his face and body language and came up with nothing that was glaringly false. Barracus pulled out a chair from the table where he'd placed the box and sat down, appearing to attempt and put them on even ground.
There it was: the act.
"I am only here to have a discussion with you," he said smoothly. It was scary how perfectly reasonable he sounded. "We have much to discuss, if you would hear me out."
"If I don't," Albus's voice was low with barely concealed rage. "Are you going to detain me and drag me to the bottom of the Ministry for an interrogation?"
Annoyance fluttered across Barracus' face. "I can do that," he tilted his head to the side in a move that was obviously a challenge. "If you like."
"Do your worst."
Challenge accepted.
"I would, if only for the fact that I find you especially aggravating," Barracus regarded him with the same biting look just a moment longer before it just melted away. "However, the chance that your father will burst in and cause an untold amount of property damage is too great for me to risk it."
From what Rose had told him, that was a true statement.
"Besides," he continued in a tone that made Scorpius' skin crawl. Al's too, because he shifted his weight from one foot to the other in a move that practically yelled his discomfort. "I would rather discuss my proposal with you in a productive manner."
Albus looked extremely sceptical. "A proposal?"
He cleared his throat, appearing as every bit of the professional he was. "I am hoping that we can form an alliance."
With perfect aim, Al shot the idea down. "No."
It was better than the piss off Scorpius had expected.
Barracus smiled sharply. It was unsettling to the point where it made Scorpius wonder what was going on in the man's head. "Miss Weasley said the same thing, although she used more…crass language."
Al shrugged. "I can do the same, if you like."
He made a fist and looked as if he were about to slam it on the table top, but merely placed that hand on the table. He then flexed it once and returned it to his lap, resting one on top of top of the other. "Mr Potter, until it went missing, I spent my entire career researching and experimenting with this dagger. It is far more important than you can comprehend."
Eyebrow raised, he stuffed his hands into his pockets likely because he had nothing to do with them and Al could be fidgety when agitated. "What exactly does this have to do with me?"
"Nothing at all, I assure you," he drawled, trying to appear less threatening than he was, but Al seemed to be catching on. He looked less angry and more unimpressed. How long that would last, Scorpius didn't know, but he had a feeling they were about to find out what the hell he wanted with him.
As predicted, Barracus looked Al right in the eyes – a move that meant to instil trust – and stated what Scorpius believed to be his purpose in approaching him: "I merely ask that you to convince your father to reconsider his decision and also convince Miss Weasley to accept my offer. The one that she and I previously discussed."
"What offer?"
Scorpius immediately realised two things:
One: Al had said the wrong thing.
Two: Barracus had kicked over his own game.
Something shifted in him right before their eyes, dramatic enough for Al to notice. He threw a what the hell? look over his shoulder while Scorpius braced himself for the fallout.
He expected a lot of things to happen, but the absolute last thing he anticipated was for Barracus to lean forward and start laughing. It stared out gruff and low, but eventually became sharp and harrowing; a thing of nightmares that made Al intensely uncomfortable, judging from how rigid he'd gotten while the old man just laughed and laughed like he hadn't done it in years.
Even Al knew better than to say or move or do anything until he stopped.
"I'm not sure what's so funny," and though Al tried to sound tough, he sounded more awkward than anything. "But nothing is funny."
Barracus latched on to his discomfort, grinning coldly. "Your cousin continues to surprise me."
He sounded impressed.
Neither of them said a word because it looked as if he was about to share more.
"I have spent the last two days learning all about Miss Weasley: the courses she took at school and her scores—nothing less than an E, except one A in Muggle Studies during Third Year. How unfortunate." He tsked, shaking his head snobbishly. "She has a real talent for Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy. Not to mention, eating," he finished condescendingly.
Al's fists tightened while Scorpius meticulously turned in his chair; now able to watch Barracus freely. Without looking away, he picked up his wand and put it in the holster in his robes.
Where was Al's wand?
"Her aptitude tests were inconclusive, which likely means that she would be suited for any career path of her choosing. Her tests also show that she has a well-rounded and astute mind, testing off the charts in many disciplines – much like her mother. She has a talent for self-preservation and can be ambitious and competitive, but only when it suits her needs, which is why she was sorted in Slytherin."
Scorpius mentally calculated the probability that Al's wand was strapped to his ankle. Very high. Would he be able to draw first? Statistically, he should, but Al was angry and while most people slowed down when their emotions were heightened, Al did not.
It was what made him a good Auror.
Which that didn't bode well for his mission to stop Al from hexing the hell out of Barracus.
As a professional courtesy, of course.
After all, as a Healer, Scorpius would be required to help.
And that wasn't something he wanted to do.
Of course, Barracus wasn't done. "I have seen her OWL and NEWT scores—astounding for someone incapable of maintaining one position for more than a few months, but not exactly surprising. People with a mind like hers can rarely be confined in the box society puts us in." After a quick glance at the gift box, he touched the bow again and continued. "I have read her entire Ministry file in an attempt to figure her out, but I find that I am most intrigued by her. What can I offer to someone who wants nothing?"
Barracus stood, smoothing his robes in a move that spoke of his confidence. He moved closer in a move that showed his complete and utter arrogance. He was eight paces away with a clear line to Al.
"A favourite cousin might know."
Scorpius changed his calculations.
"Or not," his voice cooled significantly; eyes locked on Al with such unwavering focus that he didn't notice Scorpius move his chair over and away from their table; effectively putting him in the same position as a referee, able to see every move each of them made. "Your confusion about the topic of my discussion with Miss Weasley has made it glaringly obvious that she has not confided in you about the extent of our encounter." He leered closer without even taking a step, asking darkly, "Now why is that?"
For that question, Al had no response. Instead, he shot back. "You've invaded her privacy and have the nerve to ask me questions? You're sick."
"Actually, I am quite well," he advanced another step towards Albus in a move that seemed almost threatening, daring him to show the temper he had inherited. "As for my intrusion into Miss Weasley's personal life, I like to be informed, and the information is…public knowledge. As is your file, Albus Severus Potter." The corners of his mouth slowly turned upwards. "Would you like to know what I know about you?"
Al flinched.
Even on paper, he was the Potter sibling most like their father; the physical comparisons had been unavoidable, as he was the only one of his siblings with his father's hair and eyes. Because of that, for years he had struggled to find his own identity. Al had gotten over it; had made peace with the comparisons, but Barracus seemed ready to open up an old wound simply because Al had aggravated him.
And because he could.
"Most of your information is accessible with the proper clearance."
His clearance.
After all, he led the department that didn't work under the purview of the Ministry.
He could feel the anger radiating off of Albus as the countdown to him drawing his wand got close enough to zero for Scorpius to intervene before his best friend committed career suicide.
"You had no right to look through my file or hers." Al shot back furiously. "Just like you had no right to take her against her will and hurt her. You may think you're some sort of god, but you're—"
"Human," Scorpius interjected, voice deadly calm; sounding every bit like his father on purpose.
Barracus tore his hawkish eyes off his initial prey, now eyeing him as if he were another thing on the menu. He met the older man's eyes almost challengingly because having Barracus' focus on him was a far more controllable variable than his attention being on Al.
"You're human," he told him with a quick adjustment to his glasses because he knew it made him appear even less threatening – because it was something he always did. "Try as we might, humans make mistakes. You have made a mistake by coming here."
"Oh, have I?" Barracus drawled, smiling with too many teeth, ready to squash him like the bug he'd mistaken him for. Al was staring at him with wide eyes like he'd gone nutters, but Scorpius focused on the older man who was now glaring at him sharply. "Pray tell, what mistake have I made?"
"You've done research, but it wasn't the correct research." He made sure he sounded extra condescending when he said, "It's a common mistake."
Al choked back a laugh that Barracus barely noticed. Perfect.
He took an unconscious step in Scorpius' direction, movement akin to a jaguar. "Do you think that I am common?"
Scorpius exhaled like Barracus was wasting his time – a sound his Aunt Daphne made whenever her pompous husband started talking about subjects that he knew nothing about.
"Hubris is the downfall of man," and noted just how much the other man hated his response.
With that, he stood casually, smoothing his own robes as he recalled everything he knew.
His next move was risky, exposing more than he ever wanted, but it had to be done. "Did you truly believe that coming here today would convince Albus to change her mind?"
Scorpius tilted his head to the side, eyeing the man.
"No, you're smarter than that. You looked through Rose's file and found facts and figures, but nothing usable; nothing that you could use to manipulate her into helping you."
Scorpius took his first step towards the man, keeping his eyes on his target.
"So, you went back to basics. Her family. And the only member that you could reach with the lowest risk of an all-out interdepartmental war, is Al. Her favourite cousin."
He glanced at his watch.
"You came here with the intent to be amenable; to do damage control. You need the Aurors to remain part of the investigation as your Unspeakables aren't trained to take on an overpowered wizard. You didn't expect his dad to start pulling them so quickly and figured that a pleasant chat with Harry Potter's son, who is known as the most even-tempered person in his family, would lead him to change his dad's mind. But you didn't anticipate that Albus here would be a protective cousin and a complete tosser. No offence, Al."
"None taken!"
Scorpius allowed his eyes to slide over to Al briefly before focusing back on Barracus, who was outright glaring daggers at him. "It's a shame that your ego got the best of you…again. Not that any of this is matters in the grand scheme of things. The Aurors are being pulled from the investigation and Rose won't do what you want."
Barracus stepped closer, now just outside his circle but not entering. "And what do I want?"
He stood firm under the man's intense glare. "The dagger back, at any cost and by any means necessary. It's an essential tool in the pursuit of your greater good."
Understanding bloomed on his face, and Scorpius had instantly been promoted from being an annoying blip of nothing to something worthy of his undivided attention. Barracus studied him, head angled to the side as he tried to learn and memorise him with critical eyes. And Scorpius let him, schooling his face to be the picture of stoic; as impassive as stone.
"Ah, so it appears Miss Weasley actually confided in someone…in you," his voice was so low he may as well have been speaking to himself. "How surprising."
Al was no longer on his radar.
There was cold fascination in his expression that unnerved Scorpius more than he cared to admit, but he maintained his composure. Barracus gave a dark chuckle, stepping closer as if he were a new species he had only just discovered. "Who are you?"
"I'm just a Healer."
"That may be true," Barracus narrowed his eyes. "However, I sincerely doubt that you are just a Healer. What is your name?"
And because he was wearing his nametag, he told the truth: "Scorpius Malfoy."
Al gave him a look, still more than willing to hex him for good measure, but Scorpius called him off with a hand gesture low at his side that Barracus didn't catch because he was too busy trying to catalogue him.
"Malfoy…" Barracus rolled the name around on his tongue until it dawned on him; a cold smile spreading across his face. "You are the best friend of Albus Severus Potter and also related to Miss Weasley's advocate, Draco Malfoy. The one that is not related to her by blood, but argued on her behalf. The one that caused the unfortunate…interruption of my inquiry."
He was the only person that could describe Harry Potter blasting his way into an interrogation room as merely an interruption.
"He's my father."
"Interesting," Barracus intoned dryly. He didn't sound very intrigued, but he was. Scorpius could tell by the sudden spark in his empty eyes. "I do believe I now understand the reason behind his presence," he noted mildly.
"Actually, you don't understand anything." There was unintended heat behind his words that the older man latched onto immediately.
"Ah, there it is," Barracus flashed an icy smile that made Scorpius swallow involuntarily. "I see the resemblance; not just physically, but in temperament as well. The same repressed anger in his eyes are in yours, but you have such poise, such self-control, and it is entirely natural—unlike your father," he assessed, stepping into Scorpius' personal space without thought. "You would have made an excellent Unspeakable."
Wisely, he said nothing, depending on Barracus' ego to keep the conversation going.
And it didn't disappoint.
"I underestimated your father because I did not expect his presence nor did I recognise the true reach of the cease-fire between himself and Harry Potter, which proved to be a miscalculation."
Something that he visibly regretted.
"I will not do the same to you, Scorpius Malfoy." The way he said his name chilled him to the bone, but he didn't react. Al frowned almost instinctively. "I will not underestimate you." And that sounded like a threat more than a promise. "After all, you are the blind spot in my research."
Albus started to take a quiet step back, but froze when Barracus started talking again.
"From what I can ascertain, you are an extremely logical person; so understated that I hardly noticed your presence. However, you have known my identity as it relates to Miss Weasley's interrogation since the moment I introduced myself. Yet you waited patiently for the perfect moment to make me aware of you." He leaned in a bit; Scorpius tracking his every move with his eyes. "Which is what you wanted, isn't it?"
"I'd rather you crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of, if I'm being honest."
"Oh, I will," he said with gritted teeth and determination. "Once I have my dagger back, and not a second before."
Scorpius tilted his head inquisitively, "Why is this dagger so important?"
Barracus didn't like the question. "It belongs to my department. It is an important tool that we have been searching for it since its disappearance almost thirty years ago. When we became aware of the investigation into mysterious deaths, we began an investigation of our own and confirmed that the dagger we have been looking for was involved. I have worked with it for my entire career, but there is so much left to discover about its power. The dagger is essential in our research into improving wizarding kind. Everything we do is for the greater good."
He shook his head, not believing him. "That's the textbook answer. I'll rephrase my question: why is this dagger so important to you?"
Anger rolled across his features in one wave that was there and gone in just a flash. A second blink and Barracus was right back to being…well, himself. "You are not asking the correct question, Scorpius Malfoy."
"I believe I am," he challenged.
Barracus frowned deeply, but didn't answer his question. Instead, he shifted the conversation in another direction and he allowed it. "I would implore you to reason with Miss Weasley about my offer. You and Albus Potter are free to assist her, if you like. Your presence in the investigation would be most beneficial."
"Why Rose?" Al asked.
The old man never turned his head to address the questioner, instead keeping his eyes locked on Scorpius. "I confess I am intrigued by the pattern of the person bound to the dagger. Normally, the dagger takes control of them and feeds indiscriminately, but not this time. The feedings are almost thoughtful, even though the timing is inconsistent – as if they cycle between losing and gaining control over the dagger. We believe they have been bound to the dagger for quite some time and we are in the process of expanding our investigation. Miss Weasley's survival was the exception to a very old rule and is proof that she is closer to this than she believes, which is a dangerous thing to be."
He filed away his words for later reflection, folding his arms across his chest. "Something else that's a dangerous thing to be?" Scorpius quirked a brow. "Your ally."
Barracus frowned. "She will not only be under the protection of the Department of Mysteries, but she will have access to classified research on the dagger and unlimited resources pertaining to her task. I assume that she will have the two of you to assist her. You two already work as a team, which will benefit Miss Weasley. I hardly see how dangerous that could be."
"Your protection?" Scorpius scoffed in disbelief. "You'd run her through with that dagger if it would accomplish your ultimate goal."
"That is…inaccurate."
He was lying, and not doing a good job of it.
Wisely, Scorpius kept his opinions to himself.
Besides, they had enough information and needed to have a long talk with Rose…and her mother. "It appears that we've now arrived at an impasse, and while this conversation has been…enlightening," Scorpius gestured to the door politely; his tone anything but. "I think it's time for you to take your box and leave."
Barracus regarded him for a long moment before he said, "I will leave." It sounded more like a pre-emptive decision than anything. He had work to do. "The box, however, will stay. It is a gift for Miss Weasley."
Scorpius felt his jaw twitch. Al looked at the box as if it contained a dark artefact.
"Please inform Miss Weasley that she has been officially cleared and will be allowed to return to work. I have personally rushed the paperwork, and her return date will be Monday. I have bent the rules to hurry the process and wish that she would reconsider my proposal, but also consider my actions and my gift as a mere extension of my good will."
And he Disapparated with a small crack.
Gone just like that.
His presence and departure told Scorpius everything he needed to know about Barracus.
He would see him again.
And soon.
They postponed opening the box until long after Barracus was gone. With wands drawn, Scorpius waited as Al undid the ribbon and removed the top with two flicks of his wand.
They looked down together.
Inside were a pair of shoes.
They were scuffed a bit and a little dusty. Albus looked confused, but Scorpius recognised them instantly because Rose had complained so much about how uncomfortable they were the night before her Inquiry. She'd told him the next day about how they had been lost some time between her uncle bursting in the room and when they left, but there they were; disguised as an extension of his good will, when in fact, they were a reminder of her time in the basement of the Ministry – a reminder of him.
A threat.
Scorpius picked up the small box – with the shoes still inside – and threw it in the rubbish.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: This chapter was a lot to write...and imagine, this and last chapter were meant to be one. I'm crazy. These set of chapters were written to emphasize the growth of Scorpius, who usually sits back and pbserves and remains silent when he probably shouldn't. He's now an active participant in the things occurring around him and it's kinda been great to write. Also, love. Someone finally thought it. This and last chapter mark the beginning of conversations that needed to happen. Good and bad. Plot related, of course. And boy did I love bringing Barracus back into the fray, as he tried to backtrack from the mistake he made with Rose and failed. He really did not expect Scorpius. Or precious and angry!Al. And it was surprisingly easy to write the dialogue. Literally took me two hours. The rest of it took a few days. Now, I'm going back to work on the back half of the next chapter. As always, should say, things aren't always as they appear.
Also, I just wanna say thanks for all the love (and even the criticism). I appreciate it. This story is about Rose and Scorpius, not their parents, but I thought a lot about how I would characterize their parents long before I started writing. I decided not to write them as they were when they were teenagers at the end of DH, but as I imagine they would grow to be in their 40's - after years of peace, healing, and forward-thinking progress where they had to sort through their own anger and issues for the things that happened so that they could raise their kids in a non-toxic environment that allowed them to form their own opinions and relationships without the influence of history and bad blood. Some may not agree with the choices I've made, and really, I expected it. I often am told I'm too open-minded. It's cool not to agree with my interpretation... as its just my interpretation. I just would be writing a very different story if their parents hadn't healed, if Draco was still a bigoted asshole, and they all were acting like battle-scarred 17 yr olds.
Until next time,
inadaze22
