Drops of condensation streamed across Scorpius' face as he broke through the lower level cloud line. In contrast to the dark and dingy weather that continued below, it was bright and sunny up in his secluded layer of atmosphere. The wispy smoke like molecules shielded him from the watchers on the ground, giving him free reign to test out the broomstick uninhibited.

Scorpius had been flying ever since he could put two feet firmly on the ground. His dad made sure of that. He was placed upon a toy broomstick long before he could even say "Quidditch", and hadn't wanted to dismount one since. He spent his toddler years zooming around the wide corridors of his house, terrorizing his parents' work associates when they came over, and nearly breaking countless priceless heirlooms. When he was five his mother banished him from flying in the house after he knocked over one of her prized plants, and forced him to go outside with it. It was then he realized that as fond as he was of his toy, it was time to move on to the next level. Flying wasn't as exhilarating in the open air when you could only float a few feet above the ground.

One day, while his father was off at work, his mother was tending to her greenhouse, and his old nanny was dozing on the couch, he slipped away and descended into the basement. There he quickly found the thin case that held his father's old Nimbus 2001, still well kept and in good condition. Quietly, he took the broom outside. After doing a quick memory jog of all the things his father had taught him, he mounted the broom, and lifted off into the air. It was the best feeling he had ever experience in his life. He knew at that moment he could never go back to the children's version and fell deeper in love with flying the higher and higher he went. Something about directing the broom was almost instinctive, and he could turn and accelerate instantly and without problem.

That is, until it came to stopping.

He heard his mother call for him somewhere on the grounds. Realizing it was probably lunch time, he tried to make his way down safely and land out of sight. The problem was, he had never learned how to break on the real thing. Panic began to sink in as he reached level ground but continued across the lawn at top speed. His mind went blank as he focused all his attention on dodging trees, fence posts and fountains. He continued this for a lifetime, or a few minutes, he was never really sure, with his trainers brazing the cut grass, unable to think of a way to stop. Whatever part of his mind that remained conscious contemplated mortality for the first time in his young life as he sped out of control.

"Scorpius!"

Scorpius was dimly aware of his father's cry but was unable to do anything about it but cling tighter to the broom handle. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a black cloaked figure rushing his direction. He felt the broom bounce as his father leapt on the length behind him, and the warmth as his arms shot around his body, taking control of the end and pulling it up. The broom stopped dead in its stead.

Scorpius sat ridged, in shock, and he momentarily forgot how to move his body. His hands let go of the handle of their own derision, and he felt his body start to slide sideways. His father's arms once again grabbed hold of him, but the shift in weight caused the broom to turn over. He and his father fell with a thud to the ground, the son landing softly on top of his father.

"Scorpius!" his father exclaimed, with more emotion in his inflection than he had ever remembered his father using. "What the hell were you doing!?!"

"I…er...flying, and…" Though he knew he had an explanation for his actions, he still couldn't get his voice to convey it, and instead he shuddered violently, physically trying to shake off the shock.

"Don't you ever, EVER, do that again, do you understand me?" his father yelled angrily, though his voice shook almost as hard as Scorpius did. "You could have killed yourself! What were you thinking?"

But Scorpius wasn't given a chance to respond, as his father had sat them both up and crushed him hard into his chest. Scorpius felt his father's heart beating faster than his own.

"Dad?" Scorpius began as he pulled himself away slightly, finally in control of his motions.

"Yes?" his father replied curtly, his skin and lips deathly pale.

"That was the wickedest thing ever!" Scorpius proclaimed, rolling off his father and climbing towards the fallen broom. "Can we do that again?"

"Absolutely not!" his father replied, grabbing his son's outstretched wrist. "You're lucky I don't skin you alive right here! You just wait until your mother hears about this! I doubt you'll have enough body parts left to even mount a broom again!"

"But Dad, it was so amazing! I was doing a really good job doing all maneuvers you told me about! Well, except braking, but I think I got that now!" Scorpius expressed eagerly. His father's eyes widened and he fell back on to his elbows as though knocked over. It was a strange sight for Scorpius to see: his father, normally a picture of propriety, lying back in the dirt in his otherwise pristine and expensive business robes, with the most remarkable of looks upon his face. It was a mix of emotions Scorpius didn't realize you could have all at once, one of anger, fear, relief, and, if he was not mistaken, a hint of pride.

"You, sir, are in massive amounts of trouble," he father announced, rolling to his feet and dusting the debris off his clothes. He pulled Scorpius up and firmly took hold of the broomstick.

"If you ever use this again without permission, it will be your end." But the menace in his voice had been replaced with the usual slightly distant affectionate tone he gave his son whenever they were in public. The threat also lost some of its sting as his father couldn't keep from smiling.

Scorpius didn't really care if he was going to be punished, and as he was marched towards the house by his father all he could think about was the intoxicating sensation he had felt while up in the air.

"There you two are!" his mother exclaimed, cutting into his reminiscing. She made her way determinedly up the hill towards them, his old nanny waddling up as fast as she could behind her. As she reached her son and husband, she noticed the broomstick held in the older one's hand. Her sharp green eyes narrowed.

"Draco, you weren't letting him ride that dangerous thing, were you? He can't be old enough for a full sized broom yet?" she asked, motherly concern slipping out of her cool demeanor. Draco hesitated, looking down at his son who stood steadfastly by his feet.

"Sure he is," he replied surprisingly. "You've seen how good he is on the small one. It'll stunt his development if he doesn't upgrade soon. He knows most of the basics of flying."

Astoria narrowed her eyes again, shifting them from her conspicuous husband to her son, who was beaming brightly.

"Okay," she replied slowly, giving into the fact that, despite hating to admit it, Draco was the parent to be consulted about flying, as she abhorred the activity herself and had always refused to learn.

"Just make sure you watch him closely. He might lose control and break his neck."

"Of course! Scorpius wouldn't dream of going off and flying by himself, would you, Scorp?" his father asked, grasping his son firmly around the back of his neck. Very firmly.

"Yeah, Mum, you think I'd be that thick to go off flying alone?" he inquired in what he hoped was a convincing voice. His mother shook her head and threw up her hands, signaling that passed his safety, she didn't particularly care about the matter.

"What's for lunch, darling? I'm ravenous," his father inquired, switching the subject and wrapping his arm around his wife's waist as they headed toward the house. Scorpius was left standing behind them, revaluing in the joy that his near death experience seemed to manifest itself into an allowance henceforth denied. His father turned his head briefly and winked.

From that point on, Scorpius directed all of his father's free time into teaching him to fly properly. Weekends, lunch breaks and vacations were spent in their open field, running drills and learning techniques. In a year's time Scorpius could out fly all of his friends and most of their older siblings. His father proclaimed that his speed and agility suited the position of Seeker perfectly. Scorpius thought there was no feeling quite like narrowly catching the Snitch out of the grasp of an opponent. But his father was also quite adamant on him not wasting time during the game taunting his ability in the enemy's face. He had a feeling that his father's reasoning came more from a distracted experience rather than good sportsmanship, but none the less the proper attitude led to more people willing to play with him. Which in turn, lead to a wider spread plane of victory.

Despite his ineffable love of flying, the incomparable feeling of first contact with the Snitch, and it being a good outlet for both his competitive side and making friends, Scorpius thought the best part of Quidditch was the time he got to spend with his dad. No matter how many people Scorpius met, both children and adult, all of whom fell instantly smitten with his witty charm and good-looks, he never felt particularly close to anyone except his parents. Sure he liked a lot of people, but he was a Malfoy. And though he was assured by his father being a Malfoy meant something different in the new millennium, it was still a reserved and elevated post. Though he tried not to be a snob, especially when it came to his wealth, he couldn't help but notice that he was different then all the other kids his age.

This he blamed on his mother. Before he was born, she was an expert experimental potion's master. Her earnings helped build his father's company and together they ran a business empire. After she became pregnant, she reluctantly left her fast pace job to raise him properly, though she insisted she would have it no other way. While his father was at work, Astoria read to him constantly, encouraging him to do the same. She took him to museums and had him help tend her vast greenhouses containing rare ingredients for her work. That, coupled with his innate intelligence she took credit for bestowing, left him to be a rather cultured and sophisticated nine year old. It also left him lonely amongst his peers.

Luckily he had his family. He noticed his parents never really let any of their friends get too close either. They were however, extremely open with each other, quite bluntly so. And, to an extent, they were quite open with their son. Scorpius felt, with obvious exceptions, that he shared an almost survival comradery with his parents, rather than the traditional structure.

Nowhere was this more obvious to him than with his father during Quidditch. Though hard work, it was the most fun Scorpius had. With no one else in sight his father was free to laugh and joke affectionately. Astoria refused to watch them fly, as Scorpius developed an affinity to flying upside down, which drove the normally unflappable woman to panic attacks. He discovered a lot of things about his father up in the air. He learned his father was a very imaginative curser, and through him he learned phrases that sent 7th years flushing. His father also had a rather lovely singing voice, though this was something he kept under closest confidence.

Scorpius was also slowly told of his father at school, and the part he played during the war.

Though he was repugnant to the ideals for which his father fought, Scorpius never held his father's past deeds against him. The school boy Draco Malfoy seemed like a distant shadow of the man who taught him to fly and how to play dirty songs on the piano. His father never pushed the idea of the superiority of purebloods on to him. In fact, he hardly mentioned the topic at all. Instead, his father instilled that they as Malfoy's were superior to most based on the accomplishments of the family. His parents had built up their company from nothing, their families' still suffering from being on the losing side of the war. Now, they had made more money from their ingenuity than they were set to inherit from their ancient familiar holdings. That, his father insisted, deserved respect.

Scorpius rolled the broomstick between his palms, causing it to rotate 180 degrees and place him upside down. He accelerated the new broom to its full potential, and closed his eyes as he felt the wind whip through his long locks of blonde feathered hair. He wondered if he would further the family's claim of superiority when he got older. He desperately felt a desire to do something great, though he wasn't at all sure of what that would be. He did know he wanted it to be something that made his parents proud. His father rarely spoke to his grandfather, and Scorpius was almost completely cut off from that side of the family. He was a little closer to the Greengrass side, but his grandparents seemed rather apathetic at their daughter's accomplishments, asides from the fact that she was incredibly wealthy.

Scorpius opened his eyes. He rather enjoyed the speed and agility of the broom he test flew. His father had been pushing him towards getting a new one for ages. Scorpius had liked his father's Nimbus 2001 quite fine, and he liked the fact that it was a hand-me-down. His mother had never pushed for a new broom until fairly recently. Though his parents had a vast amount of wealth, his mother was quite adamant that he didn't receive everything he desired instantly.

"I already have one spoiled brat I have to put up with," she would tell his father pointedly. "I'm not about to raise a second one."

It was her reasoning that if the broom still worked and he was beating everyone on it despite its age, than he didn't need another one. And this stood firm until his father pointed out that her baby was going 130 mph upside-down on a piece of wood that had been well used for almost a quarter of a century. The next day it was announced that he would get a new broom for his birthday.

Having never really ridden anything else, he had never found fault with the old broom. Now as he reached speeds nearing 165 mph, he realized just what he'd been missing. The Altostratus was sleek, stopped on a Knut, and didn't vibrate when he took his maneuvers a step further than he probably should. Scorpius grinned.

Maintaining his speed at his overturned position, he pushed himself off the handle slightly. Wrapping his legs around the handle as tightly as he could, he let one arm outstretch as though reaching for the Snitch. This was a maneuver he had recently mastered on his old broom. The speed increase caused him to be a little shaky, but the broom continued to hold steady.

He then thought about the game winning move he saw the Seeker from Scotland pull during the last World Cup. It was something he had never been able to attempt on his old broom, as it shook too hard for him to safely try. But secluded up above Diagon Alley, on this new devise that seemed to trust Scorpius' ability despite his age, he decided to go for it.

He tensed and flexed the muscles in his abdomen, causing his torso to go as ridged as possible. And then, with no further thought, he let his grip go entirely on the handle and let his other arm free for just a moment. This gave him more range to grab the Snitch, allowing him to be further away from the other flyer and any tricks they might try and pull. After a few split seconds of testing, he quickly swung both hands back on to the handle, returned right side up, and stopped.

It was quite a bollocksy move. His mother would have killed him if she saw. His father too would have been angry, saying he was not yet that skilled of a flyer and that he was too young to have the properly developed muscles to hold such a stance.

Scorpius laughed. This was definitely the broom he wanted.

(A/N: I know I said this was probably going to be the last chapter, but I got really caught up on Scorpius' background. It is essential to the plot, I promise! And yes, he meets Rosie in the next chapter.)