SCORPIUS:

He wished he hadn't spoken to her. When he saw her in the garden, he should have turned on his heel and walked back inside. She already thought he was an insensitive jerk anyways. Why would it matter if he continued to play the role?

She annoyed him to no end. Always so calm and unbreakable, so perfectly in control of every movement and every emotion, and so sure of herself. What annoyed him the most was how sure she was of her opinion of him. She had colored him the typical Slytherin villain since the first day he met her. He admitted he had not left her with the brightest impression of all--he had insulted her and her family members under the pressure to live up to everyone's expectations for him. Those wretched expectations from his friends--Parkinson and Greengrass, his cousin from his Mum's side—who had been with him at that time. At the young age of eleven, he had foolishly perceived the situation as an opportunity to prove himself to the world.

What had he been trying to prove though? That he was as much of a man as his father had been? He had even had two groupies flanking him on either side, just like his father had during his stay at Hogwarts--Uncles Crabbe and Goyle, the latter of whom had committed suicide five years ago and whose death was never discussed among the Malfoys. Why he had killed himself? Scorpius wondered. Finance was not an issue in his life. He had an excellent family--three children, all of whom currently attended Durmstrang. A wife who had been all too young, slender, and beautiful for him. An influential role in the workings of Gringotts, the Wizarding bank despite the sore emptiness of his skull. So what could possibly have been so bad in his life that he had chosen to end it?

Was it possible that the pressure, the rumors, and the gossip had finally gotten to good old Uncle Goyle? Scorpius sneered sadistically into the night. Hearing the same thing over and over again for decades now--he was in league with the Dark Lord, I heard, what a wretched thing to do; he probably killed so many people; I cannot believe such cruelty in life could ever be awarded by God--it was bound to drive any man insane. Wands rarely turned on their owners, but when the will was so strong, the wand had no power against it. He had performed the Killing Curse on himself and because of this, he still received little peace and sympathy from the Wizarding world even in his death. He apparently killed himself with the Killing Curse, did you know? I knew he had been in league with the Death Eaters--how else would he know how to perform that curse? I heard it takes an intense amount of hatred and desire to kill--what a black soul he must have had to be able to perform that curse.

Scorpius had not much liked the man himself when he had been alive, he admitted. He called him "Uncle Goyle" out of compulsion as that was what his parents wished. His unorthodox ways about daily life had never sat well with Scorpius, though. He saw much of his parents' influence on him. He frequently mistreated his servant-Elves... the few of whom Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley had not been able to liberate completely with her SPEW revolution at the Ministry. He was a rude man in general, quick to rise to temper and to punish the subjects of his annoyance with as much severity as the law allowed him to. He was not among the favorite of bosses at the Wizarding bank either.

But Scorpius still felt an odd sort of pity for him. He had been so influenced by his parents and his friends and his environment throughout childhood--had so blindly followed what he believed was 'right', however awful his judgment had been--and was still paying for his stupidity even in his death. Scorpius shuddered to think of the possibility of leading a life like that. Forever loathed, forever scorned upon and forever held responsible for the acts of his parents and his peers. He lived in the constant fear of making one wrong move and being condemned forever, of living a nightmare that would make him writhe in bed as well as in his grave. How long had he fought to clear the slate? To bring his character to at least a 'neutral' in peoples' minds if not to 'positive'? How long had he watched his every step, questioned his every move, and judged his own words?

When he looked into her eyes, none of it mattered. She loathed him despite the efforts and her reaction was the single most crippling reminder of what could happen if he let himself slip just a fraction of an inch. There was no going back. There would be no going back with her. She would never look at him as anything more than a parasite crawling through the Good blood of the Wizarding world. She would never see him as more than the spitting image of his father--in appearance and in character. He didn't know why, but that clear piece of knowledge made his insides writhe with regret.

"You look sick."

He did not respond to his father's emotionless comment as they arrived hours later in their vast dining hall. Before them stood Ursil, their female house-elf who had a fearful look in her eyes as she waited for their order. His parents did not bother to acknowledge her presence.

"Oh, what is wrong, son?"

Scorpius sighed with annoyance as his mother laid her hand on his cheek, searching his face for the reason for his agitation. "Did the food from the wedding not sit well? I thought there was something fishy about it--didn't even taste good! They probably prepared it themselves--do they have any house-elves in that wretched home of theirs, Draco? I heard they actually set that pathetic Kreature free several years ago—why ever would they do that?"

Draco did not bother to answer his wife's questions as he strode into the adjoining hallways, loosening the knot of his tie. "Muggle attire," he spat as he threw aside his coat. "Since when have we Wizards started wearing this bloody uncomfortable garb?"

"Don't pout, dear, it is very much in-fashion these days," Astoria simpered. She turned to Ursil who had remained perfectly silent and motionless other than to get out of their way as they walked out of the Dining Hall. She snapped her fingers impatiently and pointed to the coat Draco had shrugged out of. Quickly, the little elf with her skinny limbs and terrified eyes hurried forward to grab the coat and run it out of her masters' sight to be washed, ironed, and neatly put back into Draco's closet by the morning.

"Must be the influence of those filthy Mud-bloods--"

"I'm going upstairs," Scorpius sighed, quickly rushing across the hallways towards the staircase. He had heard this muttered discontent about Pure-bloods versus Half-bloods so many times in his life that he had the entire thing memorized and could probably repeat it in his sleep. It was almost as though his father repeated it at every opportunity he got to ensure that his one and only son would also begin to think like him about the situation. Actually, Scorpius knew perfectly well that was exactly the reason that his father repeated the rant so many times. Now, there was one man he did not mind disappointing in his life.

"Feel better, sweetie, I'll have the elf bring you some warm milk with a bit of brandy in it."

"Naw, that's fine," Scorpius yelled down the stairs, almost up to his bedroom on the fourth floor within seconds. He walked into his room, able to relax a little but not completely—never completely. He pulled off his coat and tie and threw them onto the chair next to his desk. By the time he had turned around, Ursil was there, gathering them together in her small arms. He sighed, putting his hands in his pocket. "Urs."

She didn't look at him--years of experience with the Malfoys had taught her that meeting the eyes of the masters could be sentenced by severe pain. "Yes, master Scorpius?"

"Do you think you could make me a grilled cheese, please?"

He had asked her for two reasons--the first being that he actually hadn't eaten anything all night long. Being in such close proximity to so many witches and wizards who were scrutinizing him every second had not allowed him to work up much of an appetite at the wedding. Now that he was home, though, he could feel the hunger pains kicking in. Also, he knew how much Ursil enjoyed cooking. She didn't think anyone knew, but over ten years ago, Scorpius had heard her humming as she prepared his birthday meal. It was the only time he had heard her voice when she was not responding to her masters. She had a terrible singing voice.

"Yes, Master."

"Oh, make it with your mum's herbs," he added with a slightly more authoritative voice. He wanted to set the elf at ease, but by no means did he want his father to hear of his 'kindness' towards the elves. Wouldn't that be an excellent lecture to listen to?

"Yes, Master." Ursil replied immediately. He still detected her excitement at the opportunity to cook again--usually the older elves took care of that--and hurried out of the room. He sighed and turned around, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and tugging it up around his elbows. His bed looked warm and comfortable, but not quite as appealing as one would expect it to be. He didn't sleep well when he was at home. He turned to his desk instead and absentmindedly sifted through the pieces of parchment lying there. Essays, notes from classes--all the boring stuff. He sighed, still wondering what the hell he would do for several more sleepless hours to come, when his eyes fell on a piece of parchment lying on the ground. He frowned, stooping to pick it up.

Scribbled across the page in rough scratches, looking so messy they could have been the doodles of a distracted toddler, was a single word: Pixies.

"Pixies?" He whispered, letting his fingers trail across the word. What had caused him to write this—and when?

He heard the pop behind him but did not turn around right away. Slowly, he put the parchment back on his desk and covered it up. Then, he took a deep breath and turned to face his father. "Did you need something?"

"Does a father need a reason to come see his son?" Draco asked with a sugary voice.

Scorpius smiled icily. "No, but you usually have one," he shrugged.

Draco opened his arms before him as though showing him that he had none. "Just wanted to make sure you were doing all right. You were awfully quiet throughout most of the wedding… just the later bit of the reception, actually."

Scorpius was surprised he had even noticed. "I'm fine. Just a headache."

"Hmm." His father had the courtesy to look concerned for a second. Then, he turned away to study a painting on the wall. "You seemed to have enjoyed yourself today."

Scorpius failed to see where this was leading and wished his father would just jump to the point. He sighed, sitting down at his desk and waited.

"Saw you dancing with the Yardley girl. She's smart, beautiful too."

Scorpius blinked, and then burst out laughing. Draco viewed him with calm patience until he regained his composure, breathing heavily. "Dad, please don't ever presume that you can have an actual conversation with me about girls."

"Why not?"

Scorpius shook his head slightly, the edge of his lips still turned up. "Okay, what is this about? Why this sudden interest in my romantic life?"

Draco shrugged defensively. "I was simply making an observation, Scorpius."

"All right, then. Observation made. I'm very tired, so can I--?"

"No, no, tell me more about this girl. What is her name, Gwen?"

Scorpius's eyes narrowed ever so little as he gave his father a slow nod.

"Fifth year Slytherin?"

"Yes."

"Do you… like her?"

It was obvious how much pain it was causing Draco to have this conversation with his son. Though his stance was just as arrogant and composed as it always was, Scorpius noticed how his eyes remained fixed on the cuff of his shirt as he fiddled with the button there. He supposed it was somewhat of a surprise as well as a pleasure to see him squirm this way—never had he shown… weakness like this—but it was just as annoying. Scorpius took a deep breath and sighed, "I don't know, dad. She's pretty and that's about it."

Draco nodded. "I also saw you speaking with… the Weasley girl."

Scorpius almost sighed with relief. So that's what this was about. He smiled up at his father, intent on making the most of this situation now that his father had taken so much care to approach it in a way he though appropriate. Apparently it was a little more important to him than Scorpius would have thought. "Yes, I spoke to Rose."

"Yes, Rose," Draco repeated. "She… er… was the maid of honor, was she not?"

"Yes," Scorpius replied. "She told me she was going to be—was very excited for it, too."

Draco's ears turned red and his jaw tightened. "You are friends with this girl?"

"Oh, yes," Scorpius nodded enthusiastically. How was his father even falling for this? He could hear his own sarcasm as though it were a separate entity of its own screaming for attention. "Really good friends."

He knew why that notion was bothering his father so much. Since he entered Hogwarts, there was only one ideology that his father had subconsciously tried to force into Scorpius's brain: never be friendly to the Weasleys or the Potters. They were of lower status than the Malfoys, of course—Hermione Weasley was Muggle-born which put her, her children, and the rest of her family on the same level as slugs and earthworms. And if that was not reason enough to hate them, his father had a personal tiff with Harry Potter during the Second Wizardly War. Okay, so it was more than just a tiff. They had been arch-nemesis since the second they met during their first year and the fact that Harry's personal statement in support of Draco's character had kept him out of prison after the war apparently had not made up for that. Instead, it had caused Draco to hate them all that much more. He did not like to rely on anyone, especially not them.

He sat down at the edge of Scorpius's bed and gave him a calculating look. "You know I do not appreciate them, son. They are not… worthy of our affection," Draco told him carefully.

Scorpius stared at him blankly. "Affection?"

"I'm not blind. I saw how you look at her."

Apparently, he was blind.

"She is not suitable for you at all! None of them deserve your attention. I shudder to think what could happen—"

"Why not, Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you think she is not suitable for me? She's pretty—more than pretty, she's beautiful. Much better than Gwen Yardley. And she's just as smart as I am, if not smarter—"

Draco's face turned harder and harder as Scorpius spoke the words—embellishing them with fake emotion. What a sight to see, he thought with sadistic pleasure.

"So, please explain to me why she is not suitable for me."

Draco gritted his teeth, not missing the sarcasm this time. "Do you not trust your father enough to believe his judgment?"

"Absolutely not," Scorpius replied easily.

"Don't push me, Scorpius. You will not associate with the Weasleys or the Potters anymore." Draco quickly rose to his feet and headed for the door but Scorpius stopped him.

"So, when you interact with them politely in public… that's all just a façade to keep your ass out of prison, is that right, Dad?"

Draco froze so swiftly that it was as though a spell had hit him. Slowly, he turned on the spot, red with fury. "Do not speak about things you know nothing of."

"Right," Scorpius chuckled humorlessly. "That's your answer for everything, isn't it? Just shut me up long enough so that you can get on with your life? I think you're mistaking me for Ursil."

"Of course not. You make that impossible with your continued disobedience."

"Hmm… guess I have more of a conscience then you thought I did."

"Do you find it funny to mock me?" Draco slowly crossed his arms. "Do not forget that I am your father. I made you who you are whether you like it or not."

Scorpius felt his lips tighten.

"Oh, yes," Draco nodded, "I know that makes you angry. It infuriates you that everywhere you walk, you are perceived as my son. You are not Scorpius Malfoy, you are Mr. Draco Malfoy's son. At the end of the day—if you chose to follow in my footsteps, the praise shall be mine, and you will be miserable. If you chose any other path, you will only be met by those who scorn you as the son of an ex-Death Eater, and that… ha! That will only be a living hell for you."

Scorpius was frozen with fury as he looked into his father's cold eyes. It was a face that he so often saw in the mirror—the pointed chin, the stubborn jaw, and the chilled gray eyes. He also saw composure there, enhanced by not a bit of arrogance in the way his chin was always raised just a fraction of an inch and the way he looked down the perfect slope of his nose at anyone around him. Seeing that face in the mirror—it sickened Scorpius beyond reason. He had always hated being the picture of his father in his youth. It served only as a reminder that he could never truly escape him. As much as he loathed admitting it, what his father spoke was completely true. He saw it every day in the way his fellow Slytherins viewed him with awe and reverence. He saw it whenever he met a stranger—instant recognition of the name 'Malfoy' with either fear or disgust. He saw it every time he looked into Rose Weasley's eyes.

All amusement and politeness had slipped from Draco's face as he looked at his son now. "You will not interact with the Weasleys and the Potters. That is not a request."

With that, he turned on his heel and apparated out of the room. Scorpius stared at the spot he had been in, his breath even but shallow. His hand shook at his side, but he fought for control. He did not know how long he sat there, waiting for the anger to leave. He was no stranger to interactions like these with his father. His incredible control of his own emotions had earned him an awed respect among his peers and everywhere else, but with his father… Draco Malfoy was the only one who could push his son beyond reason. With a snarl, he snatched his ink bottle off of his desk and threw it at the mirror on the wall. Both objects shattered to pieces, splattering the pale cream paint with trails and splotches of blue. He felt no remorse as he turned on the spot and apparated far, far away from the home that he hated.

(0)

ROSE:

Rose hated leaving home. She absolutely loved Hogwarts and often got used to the separation from home almost instantaneously but the train station was the worst part--the hugs and the kisses, how forlorn her father always looked as he waved her goodbye, and just the overwhelming desire for the full-family fun to continue on just a little bit longer. She had known this one was going to be especially hard considering how much excitement they'd had over the month of break.

Rose pulled her oversized sweater-shawl close around her, shivering in the chill of January, as she stepped into the train. She turned around in the doorway, watching her family wistfully--Mum, Dad, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, and this time, Teddy and Tory had come to see them off too. She smiled softly as Ted put his arm around Tory almost as though he felt a constant need to be physically attached to her at all times now that they were married. It wasn't much different before that either. She beamed up at him sideways and he kissed her cheek. They were going to head off for their honeymoon across Europe soon. Rose couldn't be happier for them and at the same time, separation seemed long and painful. She wished the train would start moving already so that she could get to Hogwarts, get busy with school and look forward to summer when they would all be reunited again.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed her by the waist, jerking her forward and almost pushing her off the train. She screamed, surprised by the sudden assault, but Albus had a firm grip around her and pulled her back into the train safely, laughing. She rolled her eyes, calming her heartbeat. At least she had Albus, she thought with a grudging smile. He looked out from over her shoulder and waved goodbye as the train began to move.

"Bye, Mum! Make sure dad doesn't cry like he did last time--!"

Harry took absolutely no offense to his son's remark as Ginny elbowed him in the ribs. With a wide smile, he waved goodbye to them all.

"Love you!" Rose grinned at them all. Finally, they pulled around the corner and the station disappeared. The gloom started to disappear almost instantaneously and with a large sigh, she turned around.

"You're not going to start crying, are you?" Albus asked doubtfully.

"Albus, have you ever seen me cry in your life?" Rose lifted her eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually. You were seven. Fell off your broom at Grandma's and broke your arm."

Rose remembered the incident at the Burrow with a grimace. No wonder she hated flying so much. "Thanks for reminding me." She walked past him and back to the compartment where they had loaded their trunks. He followed.

"I'm actually looking forward to going back to Hogwarts," Rose admitted. Inside the compartment, Lily and Hugo were bent over some piece of parchment that laid out on the seat between them, completely absorbed in their own little world. Rose fell into the seat next to the window and Albus sat across from her.

"Really?" he asked with a quirk to his eyebrow. "Let me guess--the first place you want to visit is the library."

Peevishly, she grinned. "Yeah..."

He looked exasperated beyond words, but she was quick to explain herself. "No, no, Albus, you don't get it!" She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "I actually talked to the portrait of Professor Dumbledore on the fourth floor of Grimmauld Place!"

"The Professor Dumbledore? I even forgot his portrait was up there."

"Me too," she admitted, "but I wandered up there on the day Ted and Tory got married and I told him about the disappearance of magic."

Albus winced. "You told a talking, moving painting that magic was disappearing?"

She pursed her lips impatiently. "Painting or not, Albus Dumbledore will forever be the greatest wizard that the Wizarding world has known!"

"Okay!" Albus threw up his hands defensively. "I agree, but--a painting!"

"Just listen. I told him about what was happening--or at least what I thought was happening--and I completely expected him to laugh about it, but he didn't! He actually looked thoughtful for a moment and muttered something about 'it being time already' and then he suggested this book for me to read. I think I can find my answers in this book."

Albus looked slightly dumbfounded. "A painting gave you advice about a book."

Wow. Never realized how stupid that sounded. "Yes," she replied stubbornly.

"And you think this painting's advice will be the solution to all your problems?"

"Yes!"

"And you think this book will tell you how to stop magic from disappearing--assuming that it is."

He doubted her. Her eyes narrowed and he immediately knew what she was thinking. He shook his head, trying to clarify his point, "Don't get all defensive on me--I'm not the only one who remembers what Pixies are so it will take me time to wrap my head around this one."

Fair enough.

"Albus, if these things are actually happening... hypothetically speaking, if Pixies did exist and everyone except for me has forgotten about them... don't you think it's worth giving this book a shot in order to save magic? I mean--who knows?--we might as well be on the path to forgetting every last ounce of magic in the world. We might be on the path to becoming Muggles--all of us--and we have no idea how long we have before that happens. Doesn't that scare you?"

Albus shrugged. "If it's true, it worries me a little, but what's meant to happen will happen, Rose."

"Well, maybe I'm meant to fix this. Maybe that's why I'm the only one who remembers." Why was she so eager to solve this mystery? The disappearance of magic was a scary enough prospect, but there was some sort of urgency burning within her to know what was happening and find out the reasons behind it. It went beyond protecting magic and her community and their way of living--it was something deeper. Much deeper. She just didn't know what, but she would find out.

Albus still looked somewhat unsure, but he understood reason when it smacked him in the face. "Okay," he nodded. "We'll find this book then and... see where it goes from there."

"We will?" Rose asked with a grin, but more hope and anticipation to her voice.

Albus shrugged. "You're the book-worm, but I can't let you take credit for saving the world if something does come out of this in the end, now can I?"

Her grin widened. It helped knowing Albus was with her on this one... as he always was. She fell back into her chair and looked out of the window. The world blurred past them in streaks of snow-white and brown. She felt excitement course through her body at the same speed as though they were rushing towards something entirely too delectable to handle.