A/N : JK Rowling's property. Still not mine.
To all of you, readers and visitors, thank you for reading my story.
Growing up
I remember asking my parents, then my family about the Malfoys. My mother arched an eyebrow, my father dismissed them as quickly as he could. Uncle Harry tried to hide his distaste but I knew him as well as my parents. I saw his lip curling oh-so-slightly in disdain and his eyes turning darker. Even Aunt Ginny seemed contemptuous. None of them said anything untoward. None of them discouraged or forbade me from anything. But I knew them. They would not be happy. So I said nothing. I didn't ask anymore about them. I turned to the library and to History of Magic. What I learned was not sufficient.
Since the Yule Ball, I watched Scorpius. We regularly worked in companionable quiet in the library. He had changed. He wasn't the flash of white-blond hair my father had pointed out to me years ago. He was a strange guy. Lean but straight. His chin always high but his pace too quick. Attractive but lonely. Unnoticed but never threatened. Shy but self-assured. Acerbic but polite. A contrast by himself. He was different. And it was frightful how much I had discovered about him in so little time.
In our final years at Hogwarts, we went our separate ways but we were always aware of the other's progress and goings. In the classes we shared, we often sought each other out when we were given difficult assignments so we could work them out together. Needless to say, my parents were delighted by the improvement of my work. Albus warmed up slightly to Scorpius. My parents knew nothing about it.
Other people began to notice him. Girls mostly. I will always remember him the first time a girl asked him out. I remember his face when I enquired about his prolonged stay in the library. After that, he dated a few girls. Most were sweet, discreet, gentle girls. I wasn't jealous, per se. I didn't really like his girlfriends but I wasn't especially concerned either. By the time of our seventh year, I was honest enough to admit he was handsome. Make no mistake, he was no Apollo. His features were too pointy, his hair too white, his demeanour too cold and his wit too caustic. He was also too thin and too closed-off. But, let's face it, I was no Venus. I was pretty, yes. But I was no model beauty. I live with myself fairly easily nonetheless. And I've had enough boyfriends to let me know I was appreciated by the male population.
Surprisingly, we made rather similar work choices. Many had assumed, wrongly, we would follow our parents' footsteps. Why would anyone assume so ? It's ludicrous. Just because they are famous does not necessarily mean we are like them. Who would want to be perpetually compared to one's parents ? I was not my mother. I wasn't a Ravenclaw in disguise like her. I was not interested in law. Nor was I the feminine twin of my father. Well, I do love to eat, I have red hair and a tendency to be hot-tempered. The comparison stops here. And from what I gathered, Scorpius is nothing like his father. He may look like him, but I think that is as far as anyone can go.
My work, my beautiful, amazing, never-disappointing work is to study magical artefacts. And I'm good at it. I love it. When I get my hands on a new object, it's Christmas before time. I absolutely adore my job.
Scorpius trained in what Muggles would label archaeology. His job is to find new artefacts. I believe he wanted away from Britain and his family infamous reputation. So he travels the world and works with international diggers like him on projects for various countries. He repeatedly works with Muggles on archaeological sites and brings back to our community the magical stuff. Guess who then got those precious little things to study ? Of course it's me. Well, my department at least. How awesome is that ?