Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
Enjoy. :)
Chapter Three
One morning Scorpius and his father had been sharing breakfast together. The overwhelming silence was disturbed by the rustle of the Daily Prophet as Draco read and the spreading of butter and honey across a piece of toast by Scorpius.
Scorpius had stared at his piece of toast and then his delicate, empty tea cup and then finally his father. He was gathering his courage.
"Father."
"Scorpius." Draco said. He was still staring at the morning paper but the fact that he had acknowledged Scorpius meant the boy was allowed to continue speaking.
Scorpius paused and stared at the space between his plate and his butter knife. He grimaced as he realized that he had left the butter knife to sit on the careful cream table cloth. But he had to continue, because it wasn't often that Lucius or Narcissa didn't join for breakfast and Scorpius knew—he just knew—that he would not be permitted this question with his grandparents around.
"Why…" Scorpius paused. Draco didn't snap at him which spoke of his patience with his son. He had even stopped pretending to ignore Scorpius and had turned just his head to look at his son.
It wasn't often that Scorpius had to look his father in the eye.
It was terrifying. His father's eyes were almost always flat with an indescribable amount of anger. Scorpius knew that this was not directed at him, but it was all very terrifying just the same.
"Why do you tell me never to lie?" Scorpius finally asked.
Draco's lips thinly parted and Scorpius thought for a moment that his father would hiss. A highly undignified action. But no, Draco was simply preparing to take a sip of his own tea.
Draco turned his entire attention to Scorpius. Scorpius hoped that this wasn't one of those questions that he should have just privately worried about and never had asked. Because his father just stared at Scorpius, cold and assessing his son, while sipping his tea.
With a small and unusual sound, that may have been a clearing of a throat but sounded more like the clatter of tea cup against the saucer, Draco sat his tea cup back down.
"Because I was taught to lie. And if you practice always telling the truth but never revealing the truth then you will only be smarter than those around you." Draco said. And then he turned away from his son and started to read the Daily Prophet again.
Scorpius would remember that his father's hand had shook when he had set down the cup of tea and that what why he had heard some noise. He would remember that Draco had been unusually kind to Scorpius for the next week as if he was somehow pleased with his son. And he would think that there was something behind the first statement that meant something other than what he had initially thought. And Scorpius could ask, he supposed, but he knew—it was again one of those things that he just knew—that his father would never answer that question.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o
"You don't mind if I sit here, I suppose?" Albus said. Scorpius thought that he very much would mind and Albus should probably go sit somewhere else. But the other boy was already laying out his Herbology supplies and sitting and then sat and looked at Scorpius for some sort of approval.
"By all means make yourself comfortable." Scorpius said icily. He had three classes with Albus; Potions, Herbology, and History of Magic. Albus had sat with Scorpius during History of Magic and had taken the bench next to him in Potions. He supposed this was because Lucy Weasley had made sure to be Potions partner and also Christopher Nott, Albus's closest confidante, was in the class also.
Albus gave a small chuckle and said, "You know, we will be getting to be friends this year. So you should learn to be nicer to me."
"You need a better way of convincing me to be your friend than persistence." Scorpius said. He was in control enough to say it with the barest hint of hate lacing his voice and with a magnificent glare directed directly at Albus.
Albus simply beamed at him. Scorpius was beginning to believe that the other boy had somehow learned to smile at the most inappropriate moments. Under normal circumstances a normal person would not smile so brilliantly at another person who seemed to find them so distasteful. From this Scorpius surmised that Albus Potter was not normal. Scorpius had already known that however.
"I'll go get our supplies. We're cultivating strands of Asphodel and Wormwood. How much do you want to bet that we'll be brewing Draught of Living Death with these ingredients?" The larger man walked away.
If he doesn't want my answer, Scorpius thought watching Albus walk away, he shouldn't ask me questions. A small portion of him was delighted that the other boy had come to the same conclusion as Scorpius. He shoved that small portion to the bottom of his emotions until it was forgotten. It wasn't often that courses overlapped at Hogwarts but occasionally both Herbology and Potions did. It was likely that Professor Slughorn and Professor Longbottom would ask the students in both OWL level classes to make a potion using supplies that the student had raised. It was quite difficult to do well and really was an indicator of how skilled the student truly was.
"If they do ask the combined students to make a potion using our materials and our materials aren't of high quality then I will blame you when I write my report for Slughorn." Scorpius said. He didn't look at the other man but he knew that Albus was back because the other boy had set their supplies on the table.
"That's assuming that you can make a high quality Potion." Albus said. He said it without a hint of cruelty and instead sounded immensely amused. Scorpius hated that he amused the other man. He wasn't sure what he wanted Albus to feel about him but he didn't want to be some petulant curiosity that the boy played with and then forgot. Now that Albus had for some reason clearly focused on him, Scorpius was planning on keeping his own inconvenient reactions to Albus's attention silent, until he could drive the other boy away. His father may have raised him to tell the truth, but that didn't mean Scorpius had to express the truth without being asked.
"Hmm. We should get started. Professor Longbottom may be a good friend of my father but he has no mercy when students don't respect his field."
Scorpius wondered briefly why Albus referred to his father as father. He would have assumed that the Potter's were informal enough to adopt dad to refer to a father. Scorpius then decided that he should not wonder about Albus. There was no need to give Albus a bigger portion of his life than the one the other man had simply decided to take.
The two started working quietly. It was peaceful but Scorpius was on edge. He supposed he was always on edge around Albus. He figured that it was because he was so attracted to the other boy and because he was sure that if Albus pushed him correctly Scorpius wouldn't be able to keep any sort of semblance of control of his emotions.
Scorpius hated it.
"You know, secretly, I think you rather like me." Albus said.
"You can surely think and believe whatever you want about me." Scorpius said. It was the truth and Scorpius wouldn't reply any other way. He managed to even still his slightly panicked reaction because he remembered that it was more than likely that Albus- and most other boys at Hogwarts- was distressingly straight. And a distressingly straight boy would not think that the word like could have more than one meaning to another boy. Scorpius packed the fertilizer harshly around the base of the Asphodel. His eyes were half closed but he looked up at Albus through his eyelashes to see the other boy's reaction. Albus was half frowning and glaring at the Wormwood in front of him.
Scorpius wondered what was wrong with him that he found Albus frowning far more attractive than Albus smiling.
"True. I can think whatever I want about you. But, I'd rather actually know you. Stubborn child."
"I am not a child. I'm the same age as you." Scorpius said glaring up at the other man. Albus raised an eyebrow and chuckling said, "I don't know, you still seem to have the body of a child." And to prove his point, Albus reached around Scorpius to help adjust the plants. Scorpius wished that he wasn't so aware of Albus standing behind him. Scorpius just wished that he wasn't so aware of Albus in general. It would make ignoring him significantly easier.
They didn't much talk beyond that for the rest of the lesson and when it came time to leave, Scorpius left. Albus lingered.
o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o
It had been the annual celebration of the defeat of Voldemort at the Ministry when Albus had seen his mother drunk for the first and last time. He was six and he had seen other people drunk, his various uncles mostly. But he had never seen his mother drunk and it was a horrible site to behold.
It wasn't that Ginny was stupidly drunk. She was just drunk enough to be clearly vicious to Harry.
Albus had sat on a bench between his brother and his sister and they had both been clasping his hands with strength uncommon for children. He wondered if it was because they knew that this was not supposed to be how celebrations went. He wondered if Lily and James had ever seen Ginny drunk before.
Sitting there, hold the hands of his younger sister and older brother Albus felt like he was the person protecting them from the worried and pitying looks from the elderly wizards that knew who the three children were.
Albus glared.
He glared well because he knew how to.
And he knew how to glare because he had lived through quite a lot of sickeningly silent family dinners.
The time that he sat there stretched into eternity.
Harry had finally marched over with Ginny. Her arm was looped through his elbow and they looked for entirely like they actually liked each other. If not for the look on their faces. Albus glared at his parents because Lily had her head buried in his shoulder and James was staring at his other hand as if there were answers there.
"We're going home." His father had said quietly. He made eye contact with Albus and flinched. Albus relished it.
He knew this was not supposed to be how things were.
And he could blame his father.
And Harry, Albus knew—because sometimes Albus just knew things—that Harry would accept it. Harry had developed the air of a man who would take anything from anyone and not flinch or complain until he was by himself. A perfect outlet for an angry son.
Later that night when Albus was supposed to have been asleep his mother wandered into his and James' room. She had giggled and kissed each boys head.
She had whispered in their ears.
You know, she had said, your father was the one to name you and James. I made him let me name Lily because he would've just kept naming his children after dead fucks.
And after she had walked out of the room and after Albus had stopped wandering what the word fuck meant, he had wondered what it meant that he was named after dead people. He decided not to care.
Albus would remember that it was the first time he had purely hated his mother. He would remember that his father had prepared a Hang-Over potion for his mother, served her breakfast in bed and for the next week his family had been lovely. And he would re-examine his mother's slurred statement and come to believe that while his brother had been born to carry the names of two intelligent trouble-makers, Albus had been shackled with the names of two troubled world shakers. He could never decide who had gotten the better deal.
And, there you go, Chapter 3. Thank you to my one reviewer, ekbellatrix, it was very much appreciated. I think this time I will hope for perhaps... two reviews? :)