It was beyond loud at the ancestral Weasley home. Cacophonous laughter rolled and rumbled throughout every room. Bright decorations flew about wildly while colored lights cascaded like dancing fairies across the walls. Even the house elf was singing and celebrating with the crowd.
Mostly my presence was met with but mild shock, as a great many of the Weasleys had not been informed of my attendance. One decrepit grand uncle had stormed off at my arrival, but Louis and Rose had made sure I received little other grief. Many of the older Weasley children knew of my friendship with Al from school but had never guessed at its depth. Victoire and Dominique were visibly bewildered when I'd walked in.
After some brief introductions were made I quietly removed myself from the crowd to hide in the kitchens. Nobody but Al, with perhaps the exception of Lou and Rose, really wanted me there anyway. I was just happy to be surrounded by such merriment during the holidays. It was a change from the gloomy and dark winter days spent with the children of former death eaters. Father would sometimes invite his wards over for christmas and only Matheus and Rori had ever been tolerable.
The kitchen wasn't enormous but the amount of towering clutter gave me the impression that it was. A great many plates and ingredients had been splayed about the room as dishes had been left to bake or boil magically.
As much as my Grandfather would have found my love of the kitchen distasteful, I was always fascinated by food. Since cooking reminded me of potions I couldn't help but grasp at every opportunity to learn about it.
Hermione POV
I barely noticed the Malfoy boy slip away from the herd. I had no evidence yet to determine whether the blond was inclined towards the orchestration of mischief. Or whether he was even, like his Grandfather, capable of anything sinister to begin with.
Albus and Rose had written us volumes about their mystery friend, but in all my years I never would have fathomed that the subject of their writings might have been a Malfoy. My head was spinning with curiosity. I was about to follow when I noticed Gin move first, silently removing herself from the room with the same curiosity apparent on her face.
"Come on Mione, Its your move."
I would have time later to examine him. I would never let anybody hurt my Albus.
"Careful Ron. You shouldn't rush me. I'm still head of the DoM." I shot turning my attention back to the room.
"Mom! You can do advanced arithmancy in your head but you can't win a game of wizards chess?!" Rose shot. I would never forget the way Ron had played for our lives beneath the castle. "Don't bother Rosie. Your mother is probably solving the mystery of spacetime while we're playing" snapped Ron.
"Dad, space and Time are completely separate. Space is an extension of law and order, it reflects a branch of nature magic. Whereas time is a magic all its own." Hugo corrected knowingly. Hugo, Rosie, Lily, Louis and Albus. Five geniuses and one a prodigy too. From what I know of Scorpius he's nearly a mach for Al. I would have to investigate.
Ginny POV
I stood and watched the strange blond from the kitchen's entrance. He had already rolled his expensive sleeves up past his elbows when i'd walked in, and was now in the midst of washing his pale hands meticulously beneath the clear running water.
He began by clearing much of the packaging that I had not had the time to bin, before finally wiping clean the countertops themselves. I was too curious of what he might do next to consider speaking, so I merely stood there, watching.
I watched as he picked up and reviewed my mothers recipes, pulling materials and ingredients swiftly into place with flawless grace.
I watched him chop and slice expertly at the vegetables and fruit as he rolled ingredients off of cutlery into pots and onto pans as though each were but extensions of his arms.
I watched as he measured and tossed broth and spice without even looking. Flour and water flowed intricately in obedient response to his wandless hands.
He wasn't at all what I had expected. It wasn't because of my impression that Draco would sooner have wasted away than entertain the notion of preparing something for himself. It wasn't that that notion seemed more alien considering the act his son now performed had no immediate benefit for himself.
It wasn't even the way his whole body seemed to dance as he cooked. It was the way he sang, soft and angelic.
The lyrics were in a foreign language, sounding more like sighs than actual words; while the tune itself was entirely other worldly. I might have felt guilty for listening if what I heard had not been so outrageously beautiful.
The soft notes from absent instruments accompanied his voice.
Desert drums, crystal piano, sky flutes, sand strings and moss violins played magnificently from the void. Instruments I had only ever heard played by the most skilled magic musicians were being conjured wandlessly by this small boy.
It was a strange nomad's medley that seemed to spring at once from deep within the earth and from high above the clouds. I could almost feel the shifting sands beneath my feet, almost see the towering dunes and whirling winds on the horizon. The billowy haze from the heated stove shifted and coiled to the command of the tune. A great mirage.
I realized when the movements became more and more complex, that he wasn't actually cooking, but was dancing in motion with the blades.
The spinning began slowly, quickening with the beat of the drums. He spun and spun, leaping nimbly from the ground to a stool and back down again. As he shifted through the air I saw it. His eyes were closed. This was a true water dance.
Such a strange thing for a child to learn, or to be able to perform so well, while conjuring the accompaniment of a magical score. He could sing like Albus. I wonder if they knew that the other could play so proficiently.
As he slowed, the words fell to hums and whistles until finally he stopped, landing elegantly on the stool he had first climbed.
"That was quite beautiful." I offered sincerely from the doorway.
In hindsight that might not have been the best idea.
My son would have leapt wildly into the air had I surprised him like that.
To my son's credit, the Malfoy boy did spin around rather less gracefully than his movements had been during the dance. He was so surprised in fact that he dropped one of the knives and tipped over a bag of open flour as he braced himself.
"Mrs. Potter… I. I just…thought I'd... help... help a bit." The stuttering was strange coming from him. The sudden unsteadiness seemed alien and unfitting.
"You can cook huh? Well among much else apparently." His eyes were darting about the room as though he were contemplating escape or trying to assess how much trouble he was in.
"You know, if you were one of mine, I would have screamed bloody murder at you by now. As it happens, I believe you were actually helping and not just playing around, so I'll let you off."
He looked terrified. Now that i had the look of him, I couldn't be sure what actually frightened him more, being caught dancing, using magic out of school or… helping to cook.
I stopped when I noticed the red liquid drip from a cut the knife had made when it dropped.
"Oh my, you're hurt. Hear let me mend that." I offered approaching with my wand drawn.
He looked more afraid of me than anything else. As though he couldn't quite tell what I might or wanted to do to him. That notion was beyond somber I thought healing his cut.
A child is a child and I am a mother who loves hers. Another instinct was never made more potently than the one we mothers were given to protect our children… and sometimes even those of others. I thought of Harry's mother then and how close Teddy and I were. We were family even without the ties of blood.
No families past horrors were worth seeing a child as afraid as this I thought wiping the flour gently from the boys nose.
"My son wrote about you. A lot as it happens." I began, raising his chin gently to look him in the eyes.
"And while I might not have known who you were at the time, I won't easily forget his words simply because I now know your name."
"But we… we've done terrible things to you and your family and I…"
He looked nothing like the confident child that spoke easily to warlocks and ministers in high ceilinged ballrooms. Here he looked very much like Al after an accident: sad, meek and slightly ashamed.
"True, your Grandfather tried to kill me once upon a time, and Harry and Ron… and perhaps even my sister in law Hermione too… But I don't, however, believe that says nearly as much about you as my son's letters. So don't worry." I said patting the blond gently on the head, watching him relax slightly at that.
"Besides I'm a fairly reasonable mother, not too many rules."
The genius Albus wrote about registered my words, but something still didn't seem to sit well with him, especially at the use of the word mother. Harry's work with Draco had led us to the truth behind the Malfoy family. It was a closely guarded secret that Astoria had left the boy and his father years ago. He didn't trust mothers anymore I supposed sadly, not with what she had done to them.
"So Scor? Would you like to help me finish lunch while they all open presents?"
"O… Ok." He offered hesitantly after a few moments pause. "Um… but only Al calls me that though. It's sort of personal…"
"Oh. Well then, Scorpius it is." I offered smiling. I wonder if they realize they appear as young as they actually are. I imagine Scorpius might have had a fit if he could see himself now, all shy and exposed.
Albus had once gotten into such a heated policy debate at a Ministry Gala that Grace, the witch he was arguing with, had conjured a second glass of wine for him instead of simply refilling her own. When she offered him the drink mid sentence, Albus had had to interrupt to remind her shyly that he was too young to drink alcohol. Grace had merely blinked in stupor at having forgotten, before downing both glasses and declaring she'd launch an inquiry into Albus's proposal immediately the next morning. 'Mom… can you believe she forgot I was eleven?' he said on the way home. Geniuses are exhaustingly complex I thought spelling new ingredients into place.
"These taste delicious." I praised, popping a second pastry into my mouth. "Did you change the recipe?"
"Oh well yes. I thought I could enhance the flavor by adding—"
"Is everything alright?" Al asked bursting into the kitchen like a madman.
"Of course everything's alright. What are you on about?" The boy asked half smiling at Al's weirdness.
"I could have sworn I felt…" My son stopped himself mid sentence, as though he weren't quite sure himself what he'd meant.
"Felt what silly?"
Al seemed genuinely puzzled by that. He merely walked over to the blonde and began examining every inch of exposed skin… looking for a cut I had already healed.
"Albus?" I asked frazzled, watching my son's strange expression.
"I could have sworn you were hurt…" Al offered, ignoring my presence completely.
Scorpius turned to look at me worriedly then. How could Al have felt that? The Malfoy boy seemed just as equally perturbed, either by Al's power or the fact that I'd witnessed it.
"Al… You're a twit." the boy shot, motioning towards me.
"Oh, erm… new spell we're trying mom. A bit complex." He tried stammering. I stared skeptically at him. He may be a genius but he's still only twelve. He doesn't realize how obvious he is sometimes. They both have it… Supermodular Praxia.
"Really mom. A piece of christmas magic gone wrong. I wanted to make sure James wouldn't try to jinx Scor."
"Alright, alright." I offered resignedly, pretending to return my attention to the food.
"Well you've searched me thoroughly enough. See I'm fine." The boy shot raising his sleeves and offering both arms forward for further inspection.
"Hardly. You're helping… to cook. Something is quite obviously wrong." Albus retorted wryly.
"Oh leave off Al. I'm not as bad as all that."
"Yes you are. Look you're a complete mess." Al offered, gently wiping what was left of the flour from Scor's nose with the inside of his thumb. It was interesting that while I had just performed the same action earlier it somehow seemed infinitely more intimate coming from Al. My son proceeded merely to brush a few stray locks of the blond's hair away from his face to tuck it gently behind his ear.
"Allie… I'm fine. You can let go now…" The boy whispered when Albus had failed to release his hand. They stared at each other for another moment, both a little red faced. Nobody but Lily and I called Albus that name any more. The exchange was strange beyond measure.
"Oh… sorry. Man… I've been so off today. There's always strange magic in the air christmas day. It's never affected me this strongly before though." Al explained releasing Scor's hand with a shake of his head. Something was definitely weird about them.
Was Al light headed from the cosmic magic… or was it something else…
This is an extra chapter that I wrote for you guys, so a loud shout-out to:
26
Luke
GarionRiva
& Ainslie
Thanks for your kind reviews.
& of course to Mattie!
Don't forget to Follow and Review. Its going to be a long and slow summer
