Sorry about the short chapter, but I'm trying for consistency over length. Please read and review!
He found himself standing in the front hall in his dress robes at midday, as his father joined them, also wearing his robes. His mother stood there in a shin length black dress, with a veil covering her face. His father had passed away two days previous and his funeral was being held at Azkaban prison. Again, like his grandmother's funeral, only Scorpius and his parents would be attending.
Scorpius stood in the front hall, a handful of floo powder clasped in his fist. In an unspoken agreement, his mother threw her powder into the fire first, and disappeared with a crack. Scorpius looked at his father, who stared him in the eyes.
Scorpius knew that look; he was daring Scorpius to try running away. Daring him to try and flee. Scorpius threw the powder onto the fire and stepped in, and turned to look at his father, who smiled cruelly. They both had come to the realisation, as they always did, that even if Scorpius did run, he had nowhere to go, no money to live on, and certainly no one to care for him. He was tortured to within an inch of his miserable life, but he was allowed to eat meals for the most-part, something he would not get anywhere else.
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the fireplace behind his son, and they stood silently, the burden of experience giving them the knowledge that their guide was on the way. The room was bare, aside from the fireplace, and the door could only be opened from the outside, with the fire providing the only light, flickering off the cold stone.
Scorpius stood stock still, trying to ignore the sensation clawing at his chest ever so gently, that one that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. He knew that it had no effect on either of his parents, but the fact that he could even feel it was an amazing relief to Scorpius. The Dementors may have been sucking the happiness out of him, but the knowledge that something tucked away inside made him happy was well worth the discomfort.
The door swung open, and a man appeared, looking nervously at the trio. He was an auror, but he looked to be barely older than Scorpius, and he smiled nervously too, before inviting them to follow him.
They were led through the hallways, where, if Scorpius strayed too close to the walls, he could swear he could hear the screams. He endeavoured to stay directly in the centre of the corridors after that. They were eventually led into another dingy room, where a stone table with a solid stone coffin lay in the centre of the room, with a waist high barrier surrounding it. Scorpius recognised it.
"Would you like to say any final words?" enquired the nervy auror, but Draco simply shook his head, staring at the stone box intensely. The man half shrugged, and then pulled a lever in the wall.
It had shocked Scorpius the first time, as the floor and table underneath the coffin disappeared, but this time he was ready for it. His father turned away before the coffin even hit the foaming sea that raged fifty feet below, and it was swallowed by the mindless blue beast, the white waves crashing below as the spray found its way through the opening before the opening was closed once more, and silence reigned again.
"I'll see you in my study this evening, boy," his father had commanded, before they'd even made it back to Malfoy Manor.
Scorpius awoke before the sun had risen and got up, and dressed himself. He only had one or two of each article of clothing, and it was all very basic. On the very rare occasions that they had made public appearances, Scorpius had been forced to dress appropriately by his parents, using his father's old clothing, proving that old habits die hard.
So he packed his trunk, that he had inherited from his father, with his meagre possessions, and as an afterthought, he pulled open his draw, and tucked the badge and letter that had accompanied it into his pocket, and set about moving his trunk down the stairs into the main hall.
Ever since his second year, after his grandfather had been jailed, his parents had stopped taking him to Kings Cross at the beginning of the year. They'd simply just not done anything about it when it had come to the beginning of his third year. After a week, someone had turned up on the doorstep to find out what was going on, and to take Scorpius to school.
Draco had refused, saying he would do it himself. This had encompassed beating Scorpius until he could no longer raise his arm to hit him with whatever implement he'd chosen, and then putting him on the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade, without any money. Fortunately, the kind conductor had accepted his pleadings, and let him off with a warning. Ever since then, Scorpius had carried his trunk to Kings Cross in the early hours of the morning.
As he'd grown, this task had become easier. Being underage, he couldn't use magic, and so he was forced to carry his trunk to the station each year. When he'd down it at the beginning of fourth year, it had taken him the best part of six hours. Now, he could manage it in just over three.
The frosty morning cold bit at him as he walked, but his heart lightened with every step. Every step was taking him further away from Malfoy Manor and the horrors that existed for him within its walls.
Kings Cross was buzzing with its early Monday morning commuters, as they bustled on their way to work, passing by without a second glance at the boy who dragged his wooden trunk across the car park, and up the steps to where he could find himself a trolley.
Having loaded his trunk onto a trolley, he wheeled it through the station, for once glad that he was not carrying an owl or similarly magical animal, which drew so much attention to the young wizards and witches that made their way onto the Hogwarts Express on that morning.
Scorpius was early, a virtue of his early start, and he found the platform next to deserted, with only a few over eager first-year parents who were tearfully kissing their children goodbye already. The sight was one that made Scorpius brush his eyes, and shake his head. He was happy to be free, that was all that mattered. He couldn't ask for anything more than that. After this year, he could live his own life. The very thought brought a smile to his face, as he loaded his trunk onto the train, and went to find himself a carriage to settle down and re-read the transfiguration textbook for the fifth time that summer.