"Dad, is it alright if I go to Uncle George's shop?" Albus asked. "Please? I'll wait for you there."

They'd been in Quality Quidditch Supplies for twenty minutes, and it didn't appear that they would be leaving any time soon. Though Harry had chosen to forego a professional Quidditch career, his name still endorsed an elite line of racing brooms from Ellerby and Spudmore, as well as Quidditch armor for youth league and interscholastic fliers. The family was immediately thronged when they entered by bright-eyed young witches and wizards clamoring for Harry's autograph. They hadn't even had the opportunity to select the new equipment Harry had promised Lily and James, and Albus couldn't help but notice the sales manager quietly and quickly arranging his newest merchandise to woo his father.

"Alright, son. Tell your uncles we'll be down in a bit." Harry nodded, barely looking away from the twin boys with whom he posed. Albus rolled his eyes and left the shop, pushing open the door perhaps a little too forcefully as he left.

As usual, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was overwhelmed with activity and crowded with customers of all ages. Albus greeted several of his schoolmates, stocking up on the products that Hogwarts had unsuccessfully attempted to ban year after year. Most of his peers spoke only to inquire as to the whereabouts of his siblings.

"Alright then, Al?" Ron descended from the upper level of the shop, his arms laden with Skivving Snack boxes.

"Hi, Uncle Ron. Dad's at Quality Quidditch with Lily and James. They'll be over whenever he can tear himself from his adoring fans." Albus took several boxes and followed his uncle to a large display in the center of the showroom floor, where they arranged them in a pyramid.

"Head's up!" Albus turned, ducking just in time to avoid an Aviatomobile, a miniature Flying Ford Anglia, which zipped through the air. "Hiya, Al!" George Weasley grinned as he approached. "Nice reflexes."

"Thanks. Wish they were nice enough for Quidditch," Albus groused.

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch," George replied.

"I like Quidditch. I'm just rubbish at it. Are these new?" he asked, picking up a package labeled Demon Box, with a warning not to feed the creatures inside after midnight, lest they multiply and begin attacking people. "Professor McGonagall will have you before the Wizengamot if any of these wind up at Hogwarts."

"Ah! They're harmless! Say, how about lending a hand and bring up some more Self Writing Quills from the stores downstairs, yeah?"

"Sure thing." Albus began to make his way through the throng of shoppers in the crowded store.

"And help yourself to whatever you like!" George called after him.

Just as Albus pushed open the door at the top of the stairs that led to the cellar, he felt a hand on his arm.

"How effective do you think this product would be to really get up someone's nose?" Albus turned to see the blond giving him a wicked grin. He held box labeled Portable Swamp. "I mean—suppose something like this were to wind up in the middle of the parlour at one's lodge…"

"Well, the owner might be more than a bit hacked off to suddenly find their sitting room floating in a pool of brackish water," Albus snickered. He nodded towards the stairs, and Scorpius followed him. "I thought you were grounded," he said as he slowly searched the shelves for the quills his uncle had asked for.

"I am. Father had a meeting with his accountants at Gringotts. I'm supposed to be at Twilfitt and Tattings selecting robes for my hearing." Scorpius frowned. Albus stopped browsing the shelves and turned to Scorpius, placing a hand on his arm.

"Everything's going to be okay, mate. I just know it will." He gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile.

"I've made a right balls-up of everything, Albus!" Scorpius declared in a tremulous voice, his eyes brimming with tears. "As if Father wasn't already harassed enough with the Old Man's constant nagging and unwanted interference, I've gone and added yet another stain upon our tarnished reputation! No Malfoy has ever been excluded from school! I could have my wand snapped!"

"I'm sure that won't happen. You have to believe!" Albus insisted. He pulled Scorpius into a hug, and his best friend clung to him desperately, and he felt warm tears soaking through his shirt. He gently stroked the stubbly blond hair on the back of Scorpius' head, causing him to shiver. Albus felt goosebumps prickle his skin.

"Erm…" Scorpius lifted his head, but maintained their embrace, looking deeply into Albus' eyes. "There's something I wanted to…erm…I don't really know how to say."

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything," Albus replied.

"No, I—I need to tell you something." Scorpius swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, and gave a sniffle.

"Oh?"

"Yes, I—" he began. They heard the door open above them, and immediately broke their embrace. Scorpius shrank into the shadows.

"Get a wriggle on, Al!" George called. "The quills are on the fourth aisle, fifth shelf!"

"Right! Be there in a second!" he called back.

He turned to find that Scorpius had disappeared.

"Scorpius?" he whispered.

"I'm here!" Albus noticed a ripple in the air, just as a disillusioned hand touched his arm, and he started. "Sorry."

"I've gotta get back into the shop." Albus reached up and pulled one of the Portable Swamps from a nearby shelf. Here."

"Gee, thanks. Erm. I wondered if—"

"Al!" George called again.

"Coming!" Albus found the shelf with the quills and Scorpius helped him fill his arms with a stack of boxes, quietly following him back into the shop.

Harry and Lily were waiting for him when they emerged from the cellar. Teddy had met them at the other shop to accompany James to the arena for his pregame. Albus looked around, hoping to see Scorpius reappear, but he did not locate the fair-haired wizard among the crowd that filled the shop. As he helped George arrange the boxes of magical quills, he wondered what was so important that Scorpius had to tell him, and why did he suddenly feel that something new had passed between them.

Albus and Lily selected a few of their uncle's signature products for themselves. Albus stocked up on Self-writing and Spell-checking quills, as well as extendable ears before accompanying his sister and father to a muggle restaurant in the city for lunch, and then stepping into an alleyway and apparating side-along with Harry to the arena.

The London Metro Seventeen and Under Quidditch League championship arena resembled a dense thicket of trees within the Royal Epping forest. A row of gnarled trees created an arched canopy over a mossy trail that led into the top of the arena. Hundreds of spectators made their way to seats above the pitch. The supporters of Islington all wore aquamarine and chartreuse while the Hounslow fans wore claret and silver colours. Vendors sold snacks and souvenirs. Lily begged for an Islington Kappa mascot, and Harry bought popcorn and butterbeer for everyone before they began making their way to the stands. The spectator seating was accommodated in treehouse-styled boxes elevated among the branches of the trees surrounding the pitch. As they mounted the stairs, Albus spotted a familiar face in the crowd.

"Ah, Dad. I'll meet you guys up there, alright?"

"Albus?"

"I—I just need to go to the loo." He gave his father a smile and a shrug.

"Alright. Don't be gone too long. The match is going to start any minute."

"Okay."

Albus took his time heading back down until he was sure that Lily and Harry were no longer paying him attention. When they disappeared two levels above, he dashed down the spiraling stair as quickly as he could move against the tide of spectators going up, until he reached the ground, and scanned the area. He saw Scorpius standing just off the path among the trees a few yards away, and looking over his shoulder once more to be certain that he was unobserved, he hurried as quickly as he could move, while still appearing to look casual.

Scorpius grabbed Albus' hand the moment that he approached, and the pair stepped into the woods. Albus looked over his shoulder occasionally.

"What's the matter?"

"An event as large as this, I'm sure that Rita Skeeter is about," Albus replied. "You haven't seen any shiny beetles anywhere have you?"

"No." Scorpius shrugged in confusion. Albus carefully examined the surrounding trees, and Scorpius laid a hand on his arm. "There's a simple solution, you know."

"Mm-hmm." Albus continued to scan their surroundings. Scorpius raised his wand.

"Repello Inimicum! Cave Inimicum!" A bluish white light shone briefly, and their surroundings appeared to become hazy.

"How do you know these spells so well?" Albus asked, looking around in wonder.

"Among the perks and downsides to being a Malfoy is that Father has spent every holiday, since I received my wand, teaching me advanced magic, just as the Old Man taught him. I could teach you, you know."

"I'd probably only manage to blow us both up." Albus scoffed.

"Albus! All you need is a bit of confidence. You worry too much about making a mistake, so you do. I'll bet you're more powerful than you even know," Scorpius argued. He removed his cloak and spread it on the ground at the base of a large tree, before sitting down and gesturing for Albus to join him. Albus sat, and their shoulders touched, sending a shiver racing up his spine. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine." Albus smiled.

"Thanks for—about what you—" They both spoke at once. "Sorry—no you go ahead—it's okay." They chuckled nervously. "You first," said Albus.

"Oh… well, erm—th-thanks for you know—earlier." Scorpius pulled his knees up to his chin and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, that—I mean—it's nothing. I—I care about you." Albus shrugged, biting his lip.

"Do you really?" Scorpius turned to him then, his eyes seeming to search Albus', who nervously looked away, suppressing another shiver. He studied the mossy earth beneath them.

"Well, I—of course I do. I mean—you don't treat me like everyone else. My mum barely seems to have time for any of us anymore. Dad always acts like I'm an embarrassment that he has to apologize for. James has appointed himself my personal tormentor, and I don't even know what Lily thinks of me. I guess I'm just her pitiful fuckwit of a big brother—an object of pity like Quasimodo. You…you think about my feelings, and my ideas—even the dumb ones like playing football."

"Football? Is that the muggle game where they kick a quaffle about?" Scorpius asked. Albus snorted.

"Something like that," he smiled. "I'm just saying why wouldn't I care about you? You care about me, right?"

"I really do, Albus." Scorpius' voice came out husky, barely above a whisper, and he touched Albus' hand. Albus looked up at him curiously, drawing his hand away.

"I—you—what?"

"I—nothing—forget it. I was mistaken." Scorpius stood, turning away to hide his glowing cheeks.

"You did say you loved me," Albus whispered. He stood, summoning the other's cloak to his hand. "Didn't you? Last night."

"I was emotional," Scorpius denied. "I didn't know what I was saying. I—I don't know what I'm saying. I just—we should probably go now. I snuck out, and Father will be furious. Your dad is probably looking for you too."

"Scorpius—" Albus began. Scorpius took his cloak from him, their fingers lingering a moment when they touched.

"Just—if I am expelled—don't forget me, Albus." He pulled on his cloak with a flourish, and tugged at a chain about his neck.

"Scorpius—" Before Albus could say more, Scorpius curled his fingers around the ring hanging from the necklace and disappeared.

Scorpius landed in his bedroom upon his return, and flung off his cloak in frustration before throwing himself across his bed and beating his fist into the downy comforter.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he berated himself.

How could he have thought that Albus would feel the same about him? Giving himself the opportunity to actually think about it, they'd never had a conversation about who they fancied. Although, he suddenly realized that Albus' constant insinuations that he was infatuated with his cousin Rose should have been indication enough that his best mate hadn't the slightest idea he might have been otherwise inclined.

Now, he'd likely irreparably damaged the only meaningful relationship he'd had with anyone besides his father. With the possibility of being denied the opportunity to return to school, the likelihood of forging any alliance with other wizards or witches of his age seemed a distant hope. He may as well be sent to Azkaban.

"Scorpius!" There was a perfunctory rap upon his door, and Draco stepped into his son's bedchamber. He spied the boy's abandoned cloak on the floor. "You've been out?"

"I took a walk in the southern woods," Scorpius lied, sitting up. He turned away from his father, and swiped a hand over his face.

"Have you been weeping?" Draco sat on the edge of the large canopy bed, draped in heavy blue velvet.

"No…yes. I apologize for exhibiting weakness, Father."

"Scorpius…look at me, son." Scorpius turned to Draco, who sighed. "I won't deny that I have been displeased and disappointed with your behavior."

"Yes, sir." Scorpius looked down.

"I also confess that I have failed in my duty to you, as a father, of late. For that I apologize. My son, I made so many dreadful mistakes when I was your age. I have regrets that I have held secret in my heart, keeping them even from your mother. I don't want you to become that sort of person. You have the potential to be a great wizard, and you mustn't squander it on reckless behavior."

"Please don't send me to Durmstrang, Father! I couldn't bear it!" Scorpius pleaded with his father, tears filling his eyes.

"I would never, my son! Whatever happens, we will face it together—you and I—I promise you." Draco blinked back his own tears as he drew his son into his arms, holding him tightly in embrace.

"…and it has certainly been a thrilling match thus far!" exclaimed the commentator. "Islington trails Hounslow by a goal after two hours of play, and Niamh Walsh intercepts the quaffle from the Thestrals' Thomas Haysbert as she rolls left to avoid a bludger! The Kappas execute a power play, driving the quaffle straight down the middle!"

Harry trained his omnioculars on the action above them as he watched the teens battle for supremacy and youth quidditch bragging rights.

"That's it, James!" he shouted as young Walsh passed the quaffle to his son, who raced across the pitch and hurled it through the middle scoring hoop, tying the score. The Potter family cheered loudly with the Islington supporters.

"…and young Potter shows himself true to family legacy, tying the score at 200 all. The quaffle is back in play…"

Harry turned to the press box, adjusting his lenses to bring the red-haired witch on the front row into focus. He smiled, watching Ginny as she cheered for her son and his team, but his pleasure faded as he observed the wizard seated behind her. Harry recognized Chudley Cannons Keeper, Gordon Horton, as he leaned forward, placing his hands on her shoulders as he cheered with excitement. He kissed Ginny just below her jaw, and Harry struggled to maintain his composure, watching his wife reach up and lace her delicate fingers with the other wizard's large dark ones.

"…and Potter scores again with the Finbourgh Flick!"

For Harry, the rest of the match went by in a blur, and he numbly followed his children out of the arena, oblivious to their raucous behavior as they celebrated Islington's Championship win. He smiled blandly as the teens excitedly recounted the match with James and Teddy, who had joined them in Horizont Alley for a celebration dinner at the Quiet Banshee.

Ginny had not yet arrived when they finally returned home, and Harry trudged up to his study, where he went to the sideboard and helped himself to a substantial serving of whiskey. He settled into his favorite chair beside the fireplace and proceeded to drink himself into a stupor.

Harry studied the young man standing in the dock before the panel, as he took his seat at the witness stand. He recalled his own experience before the Wizengamot, after fighting off the dementors who'd attacked him and his cousin Dudley, when he was fifteen years old. Of course, in his case, the entire assembly had been empaneled for a full-scale trial—a move that Dumbledore had stridently protested. Scorpius faced only a panel of six delegates, tasked with overseeing matters concerning mages under the age of seventeen, in a small nondescript courtroom that could have very easily been inside the Old Bailey. Nonetheless, Harry took note of the young man's apprehension.

Scorpius wore elegant robes in dark grey worsted wool, with silk damask accents at the lapels and turned cuffs. His cravat was green silk, and his boots boasted brogue detail and a high shine. The boy's pale hair had been slicked back from his face, drawing attention to his angular features, reminding Harry of another frightened Malfoy from a time long gone, but not forgotten.

Harry tore his attention away from his son's best friend, to answer questions regarding the charges that had been brought against Scorpius. He confirmed the initial investigator's account of what he'd observed in the security video, of Scorpius placing several items into a bag, believed to have an undetectable extension charm, and his use of what appeared to be a portkey in order to affect escape from security personnel at the shopping center.

"When I arrived at Malfoy Manor, Mr. Malfoy, the younger, did admit to using an unauthorized portkey to escape apprehension, thereby violating the Statute of Secrecy."

"And were you able to recover the stolen items?" asked the presiding Polemarch.

"I was. All items were catalogued in my report. There were a number of shirts and trousers bearing sales tags from retailers in the shopping center."

"Records indicate at least three other instances in which Mr. Malfoy has been observed engaging in larceny at muggle retail shops. He was not detained in these instances. Why is that?"

"In the other occasions, we were called upon to investigate the use of underage magic. However, there was no evidence that Malfoy performed magic in the presence of muggles. There was also some difficulty in obtaining clear CCTV footage documenting the thefts. In one instance, the footage was of poor quality. In another, cameras were found to be non-functional. In the third, the footage had already been erased before our patrol wizards could obtain it. As a result, only a warning could be issued."

"How were you able to identify Malfoy as the culprit?" asked one of the panel members.

"In each of the other instances, while there were no witnesses to the use of magic, those interviewed, to a person described Mr. Malfoy's distinct features. After warnings were issued to Malfoy Manor, packages containing the items in question arrived at the DMLE."

Harry heard an audible sigh behind him, and he saw Scorpius glance across the room before his shoulders slumped and he lowered his eyes. It was clear to him that the boy was extremely disturbed by his father's obvious disappointment.

"That is all the questions that we have at the moment, Mr. Potter. Is there anything that you would like to add?" asked the Polemarch.

"As a matter of fact, I do, M'Lord. I am not personally acquainted with young Malfoy, but my son is, and as such I sincerely believe that the young man's actions are not of a malicious or willful nature. I would conclude that his behavior is symptomatic of other issues with which he is struggling. Mr. Malfoy has had to contend with the unwanted attention associated with his family history, which has made him something of a social outcast among his peers. For the past two years, he has lived alone with his father, following the death of his mother from a prolonged illness. Please understand, however, that Draco Malfoy has provided the best possible parentage, and from my personal observations, young Scorpius is loved and well-cared for. However, adolescence is a difficult time for many. When you add in the specific factors I have mentioned—situations not of the boy's making—it is not difficult to understand how one could be driven to act out his frustrations in such a way. I urge you to take these facts into consideration when making your decision regarding Mr. Malfoy's future."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. We will take a brief adjournment to deliberate, and reconvene in half an hour. Mr. Malfoy, you may step down."

The panel exited through a door behind the dais, and Scorpius rushed to his father's side, nervously biting his fingernails. Harry watched Draco place a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder as they spoke in hushed tones. He was about to approach them, when a ministry elf appeared in front of him.

After completing her education at Hogwarts, Hermione had begun her ministry career in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had continued her crusade to improve the quality of life for house elves with minimal success, mostly with reducing physical abuse of the creatures, and developing alternatives to providing elves with clothes as termination. After becoming Minister of Magic, Hermione instituted a program which allowed the Ministry to take dismissed elves into service. There were elves employed in many Ministry departments as messengers and housekeepers, assistants to workers in Magical Maintenance, as well as servers in the Ministry cafeteria. These elves were easily identifiable by their pale blue togas, each with a single distinct tear or stain—the condition to which Hermione had ultimately acquiesced in lieu of uniforms, which the elves considered proper clothing and refused to wear. The young elf handed Harry an envelope bearing the minister's seal.

"Madame Minister has asked Mr. Potter to respond as soon as Mr. Potter is available, please, sir." She squeaked.

"Thank you," he said, sliding his finger under the flap and breaking the seal.

The note was a request for Harry to report to the Minister's office as soon as the hearing was complete. He wondered what Hermione wanted to see him about. Did Hermione know something about Ginny and Horton? Had Ginny realized that he knew? He had not confronted her when she came home, in part because he was three sheets to the wind by the time she finally put in an appearance. She woke him from his slumber, still slouched before the fire in his study, and he had a vague memory of stumbling downstairs with her and falling into bed. The next morning, Harry was too hung over to sort out his emotions, and was soon caught up in the routine that had become weekends with his family, to give the situation much thought.

"Scorpius. Scorpius!" Harry looked up to see Scorpius hurrying from the chamber and Draco chasing after him, calling his name. He shoved the note into his pocket and ran out into the corridor. He heard Draco calling out to Scorpius in the stairwell, and arrived on the next level, just in time to see Draco disappear through the single door at the end of the passage.

"Fucking, Merlin!" Harry swore, as he jogged towards the door that led to the Department of Mysteries, and pulled it open. He found Draco standing in the center of the Entrance Chamber, a stricken look on his face as he called out his son's name.

"Draco," said Harry.

"Scorpius!" Draco yelled.

"Malfoy!" Harry called more firmly. Draco spun around.

"Potter! He's gone! I thought he went that way, but I don't know where he went! The doors kept spinning!" he pointed.

"It's alright. I'll find him. You just go back and wait in the courtroom." Harry stood, holding the door open, and gesturing for him to return to the corridor.

"I—" Draco looked back over his shoulder.

"I'll bring him back. I promise. Come on."

Draco reluctantly returned to the corridor, lingering a moment before Harry saw him head back downstairs. He stepped into the dark stone chamber, letting the door swing shut behind him. After more than twenty years, Harry still hated entering the Department of Mysteries, and recalled the ambush that Lucius had orchestrated, which resulted in Sirius' death at the hands of his demented cousin, Bellatrix LeStrange.

The doors rotated at a dizzying speed, and Harry closed his eyes as he stood at the center of the highly polished marble floor that reminded him of flat water.

"Please show me the exit taken by Scorpius Malfoy," he said firmly. The blue flames of the candles lighting the space flickered a moment before a door opened at his left. Harry hastened to the exit, and found himself in the chamber he dreaded most, and had since managed to avoid until that very moment.

He found Scorpius standing at the center of the large, rectangular, dimly lit room which bore a distinct resemblance to the courtroom where Harry had attended his own trial for underage magic. The young mage stared up at the tall and ancient archway of crumbling stone, hung with a tattered black curtain that fluttered ever so slightly, as if lifted by a breeze, despite the perfect stillness of the cool air inside the space. Harry shook off the shudder and unbidden memory of his godfather's murder on this same spot. He descended to the bottom of the pit, and approached the boy.

"Scorpius," he said quietly.

"Do you hear them?" Scorpius asked.

"I do." He placed a hand on Scorpius shoulder, just as he took a step forward. "No, Scorpius. You don't want to do that."

"What is it? Who is it?" he asked.

"No one…and everyone. The ones who are waiting for us."

"My mother?" Scorpius gazed rapturously at the wispy fabric.

"And mine. My father, and so many others we wish to see…but we can't…not yet."

"Why?" Scorpius moved forward once more, but Harry took his arm. He stepped between the boy and the arch.

"Because, Scorpius, if you go through the veil, you will never be able to return." Harry's statement gave Scorpius pause and he looked into the man's green eyes, realizing at that moment, that they were the same as Albus' and that he could trust him.

"How do you know?"

"Because this is where my godfather, Sirius, died. I saw him fall through right there." He pointed to the spot where Bellatrix's curse struck Sirius.

"You mean this is—" Scorpius's eyes grew large, and he looked from the arch to Harry in disbelief. Harry nodded. "Our History of Magic textbook said that Grandfather…" his voice trailed off and his eyes filled with tears.

"I know I shouldn't have stolen those things, Mr. Potter! I'm really sorry! I don't want to be like Grandfather! I'm not a bad person, but now they're going to take my wand! I've let Father down! I'll never make any friends and I've—I've lost Albus forever!" Scorpius began to sob in earnest.

"What?" Harry looked at the boy in confusion. "Scorpius, Albus wouldn't—"

"I'm so stupid! Everything I do ends up turning to shit! I never should have told him—I—I—he'll probably never speak to me again! I can't—I can't—"

"Scorpius?" Harry wanted to ask what had happened to make Scorpius think that Albus was upset enough with him to end their friendship, but he realized that the young wizard was hyperventilating.

"I can't—I can't—" Scorpius gasped, clutching his chest. "I c-can't—"

"Alright, son. Try to calm down; you're having a panic attack." Harry loosened the boy's cravat and began to steer him up towards the chamber's exit.

"Help! I—I—" Scorpius collapsed, and Harry caught him before he fell to the floor. He apparated them both back to the corridor, and gently placed Scorpius on the ground.

"Rennervate!" A red light emanated from his wand and Scorpius came to with another gasp, his eyes wide as he clutched Harry's sleeve. "It's alright, Scorpius. Just relax. You had a bit of a panic. Everything is okay."

"I'm sorry! I'm—"

"I know. I know. Just take a few deep breaths and pull yourself together." Harry gestured for the Baiulus, who appeared from the stairwell, to wait. "Better?" he asked. Scorpius nodded. "Good. I think they're waiting for us. Let's go."

"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" asked the Polemarch when they returned to the courtroom.

"No, M'Lord. Young Mr. Malfoy was feeling a bit unwell and became disoriented. He took a wrong turn on his way back and got a bit lost." The Baiulus escorted Scorpius back to the dock as Harry returned to his seat, giving Draco a reassuring nod, and an expression of relief washed over the worried father's face.

"Very well. Let us proceed then." The Polemarch adjusted his glasses before he continued. "Mr. Malfoy, the panel has determined that you are guilty of one count of larceny, one count of violation of the Decree for Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic, and one count of violation of the International Statute of Secrecy."

Scorpius' face went pale.

"It is the decision of this panel, that you are hereby expelled from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry heard Draco exhale loudly.

"However, the panel has concluded, based upon testimony from Mr. Potter, that you are young enough to appreciate the consequences of your behavior, and we do believe that your remorse is sincere. We are therefore satisfied that, with your father's supervision, you are capable of learning to demonstrate responsibility with a wand. Hence, it is the decision of this court to hand down a suspended sentence in the matter of the remaining counts, and allow you to retain possession of the thirteen-inch wand of Rowan, with a core of basilisk horn. Young man, is there anything that you wish to say at this time?"

Scorpius licked his lips and swallowed hard to rid himself of the dry lump in his throat. He would not be going back to Hogwarts, and he had likely irreparably damaged the relationship with his only friend. His world was crashing down around him, but he knew that he owed it to his family to call upon the breeding for which his family was known, and make an appropriate statement.

"My Lord…ahem…I would like to thank you for your fairness, and for allowing me to retain possession of my wand. My behavior was reckless and inexcusable. I do consider this experience an educational one, and I shall endeavor to make wiser decisions in my future, for the sake of my personal reputation, as well as that of my family."

"Well, spoken, Mr. Malfoy. I do hope that your words are sincere. If the Baiulus will return young Malfoy's wand, we shall now consider these proceedings adjourned."

Scorpius accepted his wand and made a beeline for Draco.

"Keep your head up, Scorpius," he said quietly, but firmly. "Let's go home." Draco gave Harry a perfunctory nod before they exited.

Albus carefully rolled the stack of parchments and slid them into the black leather document tube, embossed with the Slytherin crest, which Scorpius had given him for Christmas in their second year. He'd managed to re-write a sensible Transfiguration essay, and craft a new star chart over the weekend, while the family visited his grandparents in Ottery St. Catchpole. With the last two homework assignments completed, Albus exhaled a sigh of relief as he buckled the cap onto the cylinder.

He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece above his hearth, and wondered if his father would floo him to let him know the outcome of Scorpius' hearing. The suspense was killing him, and the thought of having to wait until Harry came home from work to find out was more than he imagined he could bear. Albus hoped that Scorpius would floo as soon as he got home, or at the very least send an owl. They hadn't spoken since their conversation in the woods at the Quidditch match before the weekend. He sprawled across his bed and rolled onto his back, staring blankly at the silk canopy above.

"I'm just saying why wouldn't I care about you? You care about me, right?"

"I really do, Albus..."

"I—you—what…You did say you loved me," Albus whispered. He stood, summoning the other's cloak to his hand. "Didn't you? Last night."

"I was emotional," Scorpius denied. "I didn't know what I was saying. I don't know what I'm saying. I just—we should probably go now. I snuck out, and Father will be furious. Your dad is probably looking for you too."

"Scorpius—" Albus began. Scorpius took his cloak from him, their fingers lingering a moment when they touched…

"Just—if I am expelled—don't forget me, Albus."

A shiver snaked up Albus' spine. His best mate had feelings for him—not simply a virtuous, loyal friendship—Scorpius was in love. His confession to Albus had startled him, just as his admission had on the previous night, when he ended their floo call. Scorpius hadn't given Albus an opportunity to process what he'd heard or to develop a response.

Given time to think about it, Albus still wasn't certain how to respond. He cared about Scorpius. He was the first friend he'd made who wasn't a member of his family, and the only cousin his age had abandoned him when he became friends with Scorpius and was sorted into Slytherin house. Scorpius didn't tease him for being clumsy with a wand. He laughed at his silly jokes, and he went out of his way to be nice to Rose, no matter how disdainfully she treated him.

Whenever Albus was with Scorpius, he forgot his troubles. He wasn't Harry Potter's awkward son, James and Lily's Slytherin brother. He wasn't Al, he was Albus. He smiled. He felt comfortable. Albus cared about Scorpius' view of the world and himself. Scorpius didn't attempt to manipulate Albus in order to get what he wanted, and neither of them was afraid to be vulnerable with the other.

Albus thought of the way that Scorpius hugged him when they arrived for his mother's funeral, or that he never gave a thought to holding hands throughout the entire service. In fact, he and Scorpius held hands quite a lot, when he thought about it. Albus liked it when they held hands. He liked it a lot. What did that mean?

Draco and Scorpius were startled to discover Lucius waiting for them when they stepped out of the fireplace in the grand foyer of Malfoy Manor.

"Ah, there you are! I see that the boy still holds a wand, but should I conclude from your expressions that the panel has taken other punitive action?" He looked down his nose at his grandson. Scorpius said nothing.

"Father, this really isn't a good time to discuss it," said Draco.

"On the contrary, we must seize the moment while it is available. Therefore, I have taken decisive action. Come." Lucius ushered them into the library. "Allow me to present Madame Březina, Headmistress of the Durmstrang Institute."

A petite woman with large eyes and a haughty expression rose from a chair in front of the fireplace, eyeing them with mild derision.

"So! This is the vun who steals." She spoke with a heavy Slovak accent. "Vidím, že má mäkkosť bohatstva. Durmstrang nie je pre čarodejníkov slabého srdca. (I see he has the softness of wealth. Durmstrang is not for wizards of faint heart.) It is of no consequence. Ve are vell equipped to mold even the weakest into vizards of the highest caliber."

Lucius gave a self-satisfied smile, pouring himself a measure of scotch from the decanters on a credenza beside the window.

"Madame, you needn't have made the journey—" Draco began, apologetically.

"Father, you promised!" Scorpius' cried.

"Scorpius, wait!" Draco turned to his son.

"Pull yourself together, man!" Lucius scolded. "Durmstrang is exactly what you need!"

"You lied to me!" Scorpius accused.

"Scorpius, no—"

"I will never forgive you!" Scorpius ran from the room.

"Do you see what you have done?" Draco yelled at Lucius. "If he does anything rash, so help me, Father!" Draco raced from the room, apparating to his son's suite on the third floor. He flung open the doors of the boy's apartment to find it empty. Scorpius was not in his sitting room, or his bedchamber. "Dammit to Hades!"

Scorpius emerged from a hidden passage into the scullery, and ran out to the garden at the rear of the house, sprinting to the carriage house beyond. He entered the old coachman's quarters and knelt before the fireplace, tossing in a handful of floo powder.