Disclaimer: Everything related to Harry Potter is property of J.K Rowling, including the characters and places. I do not own anything. Everything presented here is just for fun!

Note: Once again, if you find any mistakes (misspelling or otherwise) please let me know!

Chapter 3

The Malfoy Heir

When Scorpius opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself surrounded by darkness. He stayed still, looking at the tester above him, trying to figure out what had awoken him at this ungodly hour, but just a couple of seconds later he heard someone opening the cabinets in the room, whispering to himself. Scorpius slid the curtains of his four-poster open and through the darkness of predawn he could distinguish Albus Potter in his Quidditch robes, scanning all the corners of the room and stumbling with random objects on the floor, desperately looking for something.

"The hell are you doing?" mumbled Tom from across the room, his voice hoarse and muffled by the pillow, still half asleep.

"Sorry mate," Albus whispered. "I'm looking for my Broomstick. I'm going out to practice a bit before class." he added, still walking through the room, waking up everybody in the process.

"Okay, that's it everyone, Potter's finally gone mental." said Tom, turning over to the side to get a more comfortable position, burying his head under his pillow.

"I saw it on the common room last night, next to the chess table" said Scorpius, still sleepy but regaining consciousness quickly.

"Saw what?"

"Your broomstick, Potter." replied Scorpius, a bit louder than he intended.

"Could you both shut up. I'm trying to sleep here..." came Henric's voice through his closed curtains.

"Sorry. Uh, thanks Malfoy." said Albus quietly as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Scorpius tried to go back to sleep, but it proved to be an impossible task.

He finally gave up and decided to just begin his day. It was probably about five in the morning, judging by the light, so he had roughly three hours before having to go to class.

He stood up and stretched in the darkness of the room. Everyone else had already fallen asleep again, so he walked silently towards the Slytherin boys' bathrooms, carefully evading the mess that Albus had made of the room.

As he stepped into the shower and under the stream of hot water, he felt his body slowly starting to fully wake up. He didn't like having to shower in school because there was always someone waiting to use the bathroom. But now it was so early in the morning that nobody would bother him for at least an hour, so he decided to take his time. Back at the Manor he was used to taking long showers.

He slowly started washing his body, feeling the hot water pour over him. His body had changed quite a bit during the summer: he was taller, and his face resembled more that of his father. However the biggest change, he thought, had happened in his mind.
At some point during the past year, every inch of motivation, determination, and joy, seemed to have drained from life.
It happened around last Christmas, he thought, when his father introduced him to that awful girl, Lyra Gamp. He had always known that he would have to marry someone with the same social status as his family. It was part of the whole Malfoy Heir deal, but it wasn't until he actually met her that his powerless situation truly hit him. He finally felt, in fact, powerless.
He slowly started losing interest in his future, knowing that there was literally nothing to expect. He was probably going to end up marrying Lyra, even if he didn't like her at all; he would live in the Malfoy Manor, just like his father; and he would have to produce an heir, whether he liked it or not. No wonder his father never smiled. There wasn't really a point to anything after all.
He wanted to believe that the previous years he had been a proud Slytherin. But now he started to wonder if all that was because he actually felt it, or just because it was expected of him. These thoughts started obscuring his mind, making him recoil into himself slowly day by day; watching the dark thunderstorm clouds approaching from afar. Until they finally settled in his mind.

Did it make any difference if they didn't win the House Cup this year? Would it really make any difference if he failed all his classes (other than pissing off his father)?
His fate was inevitable, and the realisation that there was nowhere to escape felt like a weight over his shoulders that got heavier every day. Like a deep sigh trapped inside his chest, unable to come out. It felt...a bit like drowning, he thought as the stream of hot water hit his face, splattering on the walls.
He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, using another to dry the rest of his body and his hair. He put on his trouser and walked out of the bathroom, the rest of his body still a bit damp. 5:58 am, almost 6.

"Bloody Potter..." he muttered under his breath. The git had awoken him at an ungodly time, and he still had about two more hours before having anything to do.

"Bloody Potter and his Quidditch obsession." He continued while walking towards the common room, deciding to pick up a book and read a bit before class.

He didn't really understand Albus and his need to win the Quidditch cup. It seemed rather pointless to him, like everything else in his life lately.

He'd never actually connected with Albus on a personal level. Partly because his father had never been an open supporter of the Potter family. In fact he was rather reluctant to speak about anything related to Harry Potter. But Scorpius had also no idea how to engage Potter in a conversation. The boy was extremely secretive and reserved; he constantly built walls around him, excluding everyone from his private life. And to top it all, Scorpius wasn't particularly talkative either. Every time that Albus and him were together in a room, there was only one possible outcome: less talk than a pair of frozen cocoons.
But still, given everything, the truth remained that Scorpius felt inexplicably drawn towards Albus all the time. There was something so intense about the boy that Scorpius simply couldn't ignore him. It certainly wasn't because of his fame or his family. It was much deeper than that, and every time Albus directed a word at him, his face lightened at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for them to become friends.

Pure fantasy, of course. Scorpius had given up on the possibility of such a thing ever happening. He now felt constantly furious at himself for having such stupid ideas. There was absolutely nothing special about the git. He was just another boy without any particular talent, who's perfect life had made him believe that winning Quidditch cups was actually something important.
Bloody Potter. Bloody Potter and his perfect face; and his perfect body and his perfect life.

His thoughts wandered randomly as he flicked through the pages of a Potions book until he realised he still hadn't put on his shirt. But just then he heard the door to the common room open, and Albus entered with his face flustered and sweaty. He stood in the doorway looking at Scorpius.

"What are you doing?" he asked immediately, frowning while holding his broom in one hand and ineffectively combing his hair with the other.

"I'm just...reading...a book." Scorpius replied slowly, taken aback by Albus's sudden presence.

"Without a shirt?" pressed Albus, looking confused.

"Oh...I've just come out of the shower, that's why." replied Scorpius, suddenly incredibly self conscious about his naked chest.

"Oh," was Albus' reply, in nothing more than a whisper. He started walking towards the Slytherin bathroom to take a shower before going up for breakfast. Scorpius followed him with his gaze, forgetting about the book in his hands.

"Hey, Malf-" Albus didn't finish the words, as he turned around and noticed that Scorpius was already staring at him. He stopped before reaching the stairs that led to the boys' Bathrooms.

"Uhh...just...be careful when you walk out of the doorway. Peeves has been dropping water balloons and the floor is a bit wet and slippery." his green eyes looked particularly bright. His gaze locked with Scorpius'.

"...'K..." replied Scorpius. He quickly looked away, and then remembered he had a book in his hands, so he stared at it instead.

He heard the distant sound of Albus climbing the stairs, until he was alone again in the room.

''k?' He thought to himself. 'he was trying to help you, and all you have to say is 'k''?!

He mentally kicked himself, thinking about how rude and uninterested he had just sounded. His father wouldn't be proud. A Malfoy is always polite, because you never know if the other person may become useful in the future.
He sighed and took a chocolate frog out of his pocket. Apparently the pleasure of chocolate still hadn't left him. Neither did collecting Chocolate Frog Cards.
By fourth year everyone had already stopped collecting them. It was probably all about appearance, he thought, as it didn't look mature to still collect silly cards on fourth year. Yet Scorpius didn't want to stop collecting them. It somehow felt like a window to his childhood, leaving him faster each day. He just didn't want to let go.
He obviously never told anyone he still collected them, and by now he only needed Gifford Ollerton to complete his collection.

After eating the frog, he looked inside and found Mopsus. Again. He threw away the empty box and put the card inside his pocket, more relaxed about the Potter situation now that he had eaten some chocolate.
Apparently the only person who still had the ability to endow Scorpius with some sort of emotion was Albus Potter.

Maybe he still cared about what Albus thought of him.

It was odd.