Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Hey everyone! Sorry I'm a little late this week. I hope you're all keeping warm as the bitter winter weather draws in! (Or, if you're in the southern hemisphere: I'm jealous of your good weather. So god-damn jealous).

Thank you to AMBERJANUS, MLMarint, Crystal Jupitar (Hello! Welcome to the party!), and Guest for your reviews! Seriously, reading your reviews makes me forget that I'm freezing my arse off every time I go outside. Thank you all so, so much.

Enjoy!

Chapter 16: Together We Fall

Some days, you just feel grumpy no matter what. You wake up grumpy, eat breakfast grumpy, and mope around under the grey cloudy sky until you go to bed, still grumpy.

Well, today, Scorpius was having one of those days. Except instead of grumpy, he felt a little nauseous too.

"Scor..." Albus asked gently, "Are you... going to open that?"

They both looked at the little box on Scorpius' bed. It had lain there, untouched for hours, immaculately wrapped in green paper with a silver bow proudly sitting on the top. Surprisingly, it'd always been his father that was the good one at wrapping presents.

Scorpius' frown deepened at the thought. His father. The liar. The criminal. The near-murderer.

"No." His jaw was so tense he could barely speak.

This has to be the worst birthday he would ever have. It had to be.

"You want us to get you anything?"

"Butterbeer from the kitchens? Butterscotch tart?" Joshua offered, sitting alongside Max in deadly silence.

"No. Thanks." Scorpius didn't lift his eyes from the box. He could see the three of them moving around, looking at each other, gesturing, even, out of the corner of his eyes. They had planned to spend the day by the lake, just lounging around and forgetting about schoolwork. But then last night happened. Instead, it had been a very, very long day. He knew he was the one making everything so awkward, but he didn't care. It had all gone so wrong, so fast. About 24 hours ago, he'd been happy enough, but now...

He really didn't know what came over him. But Rose and Albus' constant veiled allusions had been plaguing him so incessantly, and with feverish desire drawing him to the newspaper store in the library, there was no escape from the endless pit of bad news it held. And to have Rose witness it...

He heaved a sigh again to try and disperse the hot tide of rising anger inside.

"Scorpius?" Max came to sit at the foot of his bed, just out of fist range. "You should probably either move it or open it. If you don't, you're stuck in limbo."

Scorpius couldn't bare to meet Max's eyes. He'd been pretty cruel to him last night, and when they'd all only been trying to help...

He felt bad, but he couldn't apologise. Not yet. If he opened his mouth for too long, he might be sick.

That stupid box. Something so small surely couldn't do that much damage. And yet, he worried that if he opened the box, cursed like Pandora's, all the hope he had left in the world might fly away. And he was no fool like Pandora.

Scorpius picked up the box wordlessly, and he heard Joshua suck in a breath. He didn't bother to look back at him. And when Scorpius shoved the box carelessly down to the bottom of his trunk, he heard Joshua exhale loudly.

"That's better. It'll help, promise."

Scorpius nodded, and gathered up his pyjamas from under his pillow.

"I'm going to get ready for bed. I'll see you in a moment."

When the door clicked shut behind him, he realised that all he really wanted to do was cry, and hug his mum. And he couldn't do either of those things.

This, Scorpius was assured, had to be the worst birthday ever.

It took four whole days of the box being at the bottom of his trunk, glaring in his mind like a hot coal, before he finally caved. The sun was hiding away on a chilly mid-November morning. The others were all in class, and so Scorpius has the room to himself. It burned like a glowing ember in his hand as he touched it; forbidden, and painful. Almost neatly fitting the size of the palm it sat there, unabashed in the green-cast light from the Great Lake's murky waters; the paper smooth at the corners and shiny. Untying the knot carefully, he slid a finger along the join in the paper. Stiff, just like the parchment in his dad's office.

True to his assumptions, underneath the paper was a box, this one much older and maybe velvet and creased terribly at the hinges. Under it was a fat slip of parchment; a letter folded so many times it was almost wider than it was deep.

Hesitantly, he popped the lid open. Inside, shinier and brighter than the box would ever let you believe it could be was a... hairpin? A broach for your hair? Scorpius didn't know. He ran his fingers along the teeth of the comb and the shimmering green jewels of the top. Emeralds, light and dark, cut like fine leaves and in loopy writing across the base of the arrangement read 'Ad Pacem, cum Virtutem'.

'Towards Peace, with Courage'.

Scorpius could help but snort at how ludicrous those words sounded to him, now all of times. How could either side of his family ever have strived for peace, when they had been so cruel for so long to all those around them?

He traced a finger over the fine letters. Had his mother been as unspeakably cruel as his father? Had his mother participated in the purging of those just like Joshua - his friends? The thought made him sick. Why was it that everything he once knew had to come crashing down around him? Why now?

"Is that your mum's?"

Scorpius shrugged wordlessly.

"Y'know, Dad always told me that he thought your mum was nice. She never hung around with the Death Eat-"

Albus attempted to swallow his words again the moment he realised he'd said them.

"'S fine."

"- she never hung around with them, anyway. Said she was always nice to mum, and that it was a whole thing when your parents got married because she refused to treat muggle-borns and 'blood-traitors' badly."

Scorpius looked up from the small hairpin. "Really?"

Albus sat down on Scorpius' bed, opposite him. "Yeah. Well, I mean, it's all hearsay. But yeah, I heard that there was a big argument with your grandparents and parents on the wedding day. Mum was invited, you see."

"She was?"

Albus scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah. She didn't go, though. Solidarity with dad."

Scorpius nodded his head, wordlessly. He didn't blame all of Albus' family for hating his family, now.

But even so, even despite knowing all the grotesque monsters in the family's closet, he couldn't help but blame them all for hating his dad.

"Are you going to open the letter?"

Scorpius looked down at the fat wodge of parchment. The hairpin felt heavy in his hand. It looked ancient, the pins slightly rusted here and there, but the green gemstones shone brightly.

"No." He quickly put the pin back in the box and snapped it shut. "He's using the parchment from his office again, it's probably nothing important."

He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice, and he didn't even try to disguise it. He felt that angry, that upset, and for once, he was going to let it show.

"Want me to read it for you?"

Scorpius shook his head, wrapping the box neatly in a pair of old socks and placing it with care in his trunk, then chucking the folded parchment alongside it.

"Okay." Albus bit his lip like he always did when he wanted to say something more. Scorpius was glad that he stayed silent.

The fire roared furiously, it seemed to be burning all around him. He felt hot, and sticky with sweat. The crackling sound all frowned out by the cries of not one, but hundreds. Scorpius looked around. The windows were wet with rain. And the walls were crimson red. He felt small; so, so small.

This wasn't how it usually went.

The cries were strongest from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, and that familiar burst of deadly adrenaline hit him. Blood in his mouth, panic on his mind. The carpet felt like needles between his toes. He walked forwards, and tried to reach out for the doorknob. It ghosted his fingers and burned the skin. He looked at his hand; chubby little fingers now red tipped, as though dipped in sticky red jam. Determined this time, he tried again. Still nothing. One more time, with gumption. The burning handle achingly hot beneath his hands.

The door swung open.

And now, he was tall again. Flying high over the-

Oh Merlin, no.

There wasn't just his dying mother, and there wasn't just his distraught father. There was an army of ghostly souls, people with slit throats and blood dribbling from their mouths. Creatures with knives in their chest and disfigurements that left them beyond recognition. Pulling; they were all pulling st his mother's head as his father pulled her back. There was a dead menace in his eyes the likes of which Scorpius had never seen before. His sleeves rolled up for the first time ever; there, a black skull with a serpentine tongue protruding. He knew what that meant now.

And there was his mother, pulled in between. Her skin tearing and pulling in a gross echo of primaries ritual. She was the one crying, this time. She, and the choir of the wronged dead. Scorpius could feel himself screaming, adding to the cacophony of sounds.

The skin of his mother gave a neauseating rip.

And then, he awoke.

"Scor? Scorpius!?" He felt three hands roughly shaking him.

Alfie and Albus each shaking him on opposing sides, Joshua standing concerned at the foot of his bed, and Max sat back watching as though he'd seen it all before.

"What the hell was that?!" Albus asked, winding himself up into a tizzy.

"I just had that dream. But worse. It- it was horrible..." He felt heat prick at his eyes. "So many dead souls, all trying to take my mother. And I didn't even recognise my father."

A single, burning hot tear crawled down his almost numb skin. He whipped it away, hopefully before anyone noticed. A bubble of shame rose uncomfortably through his chest.

Wordlessly, Alfie retreated to his bed side table and offered his hand to Scorpius on his return. A handkerchief lay there, all neatly folded in a pristine little square, embroidered green around the edges with the crest of his house in the corner. 'Together we fall'. The irony of Alfie's house having a far less hopefull motto than his sturck him bitterly. How on earth could they possibly any worse than his?

"I know. It's tough, at first." Max offered, his voice thin and brittle across the cold night air. It was curt, and no more than Scorpius deserved right now, but it did help.

"What Max is trying to say is, it's going to take time, but you'll be back to normal soon." Even though he knew Joshua was trying to help, it still frustrated him. He was never going to be normal again. He was the son of a murderer and a sympathiser. The sole child of a family bathed in blood. He could never be normal again. How could he? What right did he have to a typical life, after all this?

"I swear, this is why you should've been in Hufflepuff." Max sighed, and went back to bed.

Joshua rolled his eyes. "He is right, though. You're more Hufflepuff than Slytherin, I swear."

Scorpius watched him go back to his bed without really seeing it; so vacant that he wasn't even thinking. Just, being.

Albus shifted slightly. "They're right, though."

Scorpius blinked vacantly. "What?"

"You're so full of pain for people you don't know, and you're trying to answer for crimes that are long dead." Alfie supplied, more eloquently that Albus could ever manage. "Your father was never convicted and thus never went to Azkaban. Your grandparents, however, did. They were the ones to pay, and so they have. Even if there were others who should have suffered before their deaths, you cannot change that. And your father, complicit though he may have been, has bloodless hands."

"Really." Albus nodded. "Even mum and dad knew it wasn't fair for him to be stuck in Azkaban. You can't try to repent for crimes that aren't yours to repent over."

"But they still happened! People still suffered, and it's all my family's fault. I have to fix it somehow!"

"No, you don't."

"Put yourself first, Scor. For once."

Scorpius played with the exquisite embroidery under his fingers. Knowing Alfie, he probably handmade this.

"But those people still suffered. I have to do something."

"Sure, you can do something. You can try to do things for the future. But the past is already closed, far behind you. Don't get caught up in the past, Scorpius. You'll lose yourself in a world that does not belong to you."

With that, Alfie left, hopping into his bed and pulling his curtains closed.

Scorpius sighed, running a hand over his sticky forehead. Albus was watching him cautiously; Scorpius could feel his remarkably bright green eyes watching him. "I know he's probably right, but how can I even look my father in the eyes ever again? Knowing that he's not who I thought he was."

"Parents can be two different people to their children; their parental figure, and the people they are outside of the family. Your dad is still your dad and the man you've always known, it's just that now you know about the life he once led before your family."

Scorpius said nothing, merely playing with the handkerchief.

"I know that it's disappointing. And maybe it will take time to heal over this. But remember that your father is not still the man he once was," breaking off and dropping to a barely audible whisper, he said, "think of Max."

Scorpius felt shame welling up again. He really needed to apologise to Max. "I suppose."

"Sod off to sleep now, and read the letter tomorrow. Oh, and apologise to Max," he looked over to Max' bed, his gaze shifting from counselling to sympathetic. "He's pretty upset over what happened. Y'know - he hates talking about all that stuff."

Scorpius nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, but it's not me you need to apologise to." Albus nodded and walked back to his bed, shuffling down in his blankets until the room fell utterly silent.

Once more drawing the curtains, Scorpius settled down in his bed. His bones seemed to ache with tiredness. And even though he knew Alfie and Albus and all of them were right, he couldn't utterly banish those haunting images from his mind.

—

"What's up with Max?"

Scorpius blinked himself awake from his endless gaze through Professor Binns and at the fascinatingly full stone behind him.

"'m sorry?"

"I said, what's up with Max?"

Scorpius frowned at Isabelle. "I have literally no idea what you're on about."

She rolled her eyes, fidgeting with her long, shiny black hair again and pushing it all over her right shoulder with an effortless flourish. "I mean, what's the deal with him and Mia Clarke."

"Oh." Scorpius has briefly worried that she'd picked up on his permenantly sullen face as of late, too. "Not really sure. They're going to the Ball together."

"They are!?"

Scorpius nodded, unaware this wasn't common knowledge. "Yeah. I thought everyone knew?"

"Huh. Not me." She pulled a face but said no more, tapping the edge of her quill against her finger rhythmically. "What's up with you, anyway?"

"Tired." Is all Scorpius managed to get out around a wide yawn.

"You too? Geez, must be something in the water. Even Rosie's off this week."

"She is?"

"Yeah. Did you piss her off or something?"

Scorpius frowned. 'More like the other way around', he thought irritatedly, but declined to comment. "It's nothing."

Isabella rolled her eyes. "Rosie doesn't go to the library a whole week for the first time ever, and it's 'not a big deal'. Sure."

"Can we talk about something else?" Scorpius sighed, nestling his head down on his sleeve as though it were a pillow. Surprisingly comfy.

"Yeah, let's talk about the fact that your hair gel doesn't come off on your robes every time you do that."

Scorpius grinned to himself. "It's magic."

"No, really?!"

"It's our secret! I'm not telling you how I do it." He muttered lazily, feeling that comfortable wave of warmth wash over his body as cozy tiredness crept into him. "Well, I'm not telling you how I do this until you tell me how you girls can go from curly hair one day to straight hair the next."

"Okay, so we might be deadlocked on this one." Isabelle chewed the inside of her cheek, examining the hair on Scorpius' hair closely. "Seriously, though. I'm always impressed by your hair game."

"My what?"

"Hair game. Oh," she sniggered to herself, "I forgot that you're, like, allergic to muggle. Your hair always looks nice."

Scorpius stopped listening before she finished. He mumbled out an uninvested 'thanks', but resumed his stare into the middle-distance.

"Seriously, what's the matter?!" She asked again, the frustration failing to hide a touching note of worry.

"Go ask Rose." He sighed. He didn't want to mention the one thing that was burning a hole in his mind: the letter. That stupid, annoying letter. That irritating, infernal letter he found himself reading not two hours later.

The parchment felt rough against his overly sensitive fingers. He unfolded it slowly, layer by layer in the half-light of the dim lanterns in the lower floor of the owlery. He could feel goosebumps even crawl up his shins.

It wasn't the same, heavy parchment he usually received courtesy of his father's office. It was thinner, but so much longer than he anticipated. The yellowish parchment covered all over by ink and scrawled letters. It was like a puzzle to unfold; and it looked like a whole life was written out on the pages in front of him.

He knew he had been right to run off to the Owlery.

/

Dear Scorpius,

Happy Birthday. Today, you become a man in the eyes of the law and society. But to me, and to your mother, you will always be our boy.

When your mother was ill, she told me all the things she wanted me to tell you the day you turned seventeen. Firstly, that she hoped that I'd never have to do this - that she would still be here, to celebrate with us and probably bake something obnoxiously sweet. But as that has not come to pass, I'll tell you what she said secondly: that she loves you more than her heart can possibly contain, and she will do, always. She says that there is no one she could ever love more than you, and that she is proud of the boy you were, and I know she is proud of the wonderful man you have become. There is a letter waiting for you at home with her own words in it. And whilst I may have difficulty being so eloquent with my own emotions, please know that I feel the same. For all you have faced and overcome, it would be understandable if you were half the man you have become: but you have surpassed even my wildest imagination.

I wish I could say the rest of this letter were devoted to my ramblings on all the things you have done to make me proud, but alas it is not. I promised your mother one other thing relating to this day: that you know the truth of our family. I know you suffered for years with rumours that you so valiantly fought off, and no doubt you have come across accounts of my life from acquaintances. But I feel that you should know the truth from my own being - if not from my own lips - about what really happened. Your mother did not want to scare you and I did not want to taint your childhood, so we waited until now. Please, forgive us and allow us our indulgence. We only wanted to see you grow up untainted by my past.

What follows is the truth as I know it. It is uncomfortable reading, and I can only apologise.

The Malfoy Family is a Pure-Blood, supremacist family, and it's views have always been strong to that effect. Your grandfather and grandmother - my parents - were no different. My father, it is true, was a Death Eater since before I was born. My mother, too, had her sympathies but never officially joined. Together, they hosted the Dark Lord at our house, recruited fellow Death Eaters, I watched a teacher of mine be executed in one room and the massacre of seven goblins in another, and they even leant their own wands and money to his personal service. When I turned sixteen, I, too, joined their ranks. My father had lead the assault on the Ministry in 1995 and was summarily sent to Azkaban. In his place, I was made to take over. It was not a pleasant choice, but it was that or death. I could not leave my mother, and in the arrogance of my youth I believe that I would receive the prestige I always craved in the face of your friend Albus' father should I join the Death Eaters. This began two years of utter destruction.

It is true that under the Death Eaters, I orchestrated the death of Albus Dumbledore. Though I did not cast the killings curse - that was Severus Snape - I often feel that though I may as well have. It had been the task personally allotted to me by the Dark Lord, to accomplish within a year or face certain death. I do not attempt to absolve myself from what I did, but please know that I did it with no affection for the task.

I watched as the entire world went to wrack and ruin around me, and yet when Hogwarts fell, I ran off to be with the Death Eaters. I made the wrong decision there - the next in a series of bad decisions. It was that summer that I saw more deaths than I should ever like to know, and heard the planning of unspeakable acts. My role in events was over, now that my father had returned. But I did not interfere for the safety of others.

My aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, was truely as terrible as the rumours say. She poured affection on me as a child - I did not realise the evil that lay inside until long after she died. Murder, torture and violence were her delights, and she made no secret of that. She gave special orders for the deliberate killing of Nymphadora Tonks - your second cousin, my cousin - and her husband during the Battle of Hogwarts. And yes, I know about Teddy Lupin. But your mother and I were afraid that you might learn all that I'm telling you from an unkind source, so we tried to control who you interacted with. I'm sorry for that. Perhaps it was the wrong decision.

It is to my shame that I didn't act much in the Battle of Hogwarts. But it is thanks to a few acts by my mother, myself, and the selfless testimonyiesof those I'd treated poorly that I am now a free man. It taught me that redemption is possible.

In school, I was vile from the first day. I was a spoiled, arrogant brat - I knew that, even then. That behaviour has always been embarrassing, but it grew such dark and deep roots that before I even realised, I was entrenched in evil. Once that happened, I had no choice but to stay. I bullied Professor Longbottom, harassed Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, and constantly fought against Harry Potter. I can never express how happy I was to see that you never became like I was at school.

I would like to credit your mother as the catalyst for my deep reflection, but the truth is that the seeds were down long before I even met her. I knew that I needed to escape when I had just turned eighteen, but I had no chance. Your mother simply helped to pull me out of the deep depression the war had cast me into. And as always, the immense love she held for everyone she knew kept my buoyant when I thought I must sink. She was an incredible moment, and she will forever be the best woman I ever met.

I do not mean to depress you with this letter, Scorpius. And I am sorry to give you such miserable news on your birthday. But I promised your mother, and your mother was right: you need to know. Hogwarts fails all students in avoiding this history, and I do not want you to go into the world as an adult being so uninformed about something so important.

I want to end by again saying just how proud I am of you, and how grateful I am that you have become such a wonderful man. My heart feels fit to burst every time I remember that I have the pleasure to call you my son.

We can talk about all this more when you get home, or never again if you wish.

Happy Birthday, Scorpius.

With Love,

Your father.

He folded the parchement back up, feeling the bumpy, rough texture with numb fingertips.

His father was no monster. His mother was innocent. And somehow, despite all the pain he knew had been caused to innumerable people, he felt somehow free. Free of the direct guilt. Liberated from culpability.

Yes, his father was a coward, and yes, he should've done more. He was a brat who did nothing when he could've done something. But not anymore. Scorpius was always keenly aware of the distance between he and his father; that he didn't know his father well. But now that he had the information to fill the gaps, he was certain that his father was a changed man. And in light of all that had happened, Scorpius wasn't sure that anyone could ask for anything more from him.

Alfie was right. He had to ignore the past, to push it aside. To forget the pain he felt every time he thought of it, and focus squarely on the future.

—

Scorpius was the first to arrive at breakfast the next morning. He had a class first thing, and Max, the only other person with an early class that day, wasn't there yet.

Scorpius swirled the milk in his bowl, only a few remaining soggy wheat Nifflers floating in their sea. Reading the letter had made him feel so much better. He was finally secure in reality and not wavering between the worst of the worst scenarios and the best. It was still uncomfortable to find out that you came from a family full of evil, but at least he was now secure in that for at least two generations, no one had wanted to be part of that - at least, not for very long. And now his father was working to make the world a better place. Scorpius considered seriously for the first time if he should go down that career path, too. And yet, there was an unconscious pull at the back of his mind telling him that he did not want that, not at all.

Life is hard.

"'Morning."

Scorpius looked up to see Max quickly grab two slices of toast before he even sat down, pulling the butter towards him quickly and never once looking Scorpius in the eye.

"Morning." Scorpius' freshly digested breakfast churned uncomfortably in his stomach. "Hey, Max. I'm Uh... sorry about the other day."

Max paused in his frantic toast buttering.

"I'm sorry about all those things I said about your parents."

Max let out a derisive laugh. "Which ones?"

"Both."

Max' jaw tensed, always a tell-tale sign he was swallowing a string of pure vitriol. "Fine. I don't need you to apologise for what you said about my birth mum and dad because they're both wastes of skin. But you need to apologise for the rest."

Scorpius nodded, eager to make up with his friend. "I'm sorry that I said your parents are Death Eater escapees and spineless Dark Arts fetishists, and it wasn't fair to say that they only took you in because they had to."

Max nodded pointedly. "That's right. They took me in because they're amazing people, and in no way affiliated with the Death Eaters. 'S not their fault my dad happens to be the brother of my birth father."

Scorpius nodded, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I don't even know why I said it. I was just... so angry."

"No, I get why you said it. You weren't angry, you were confused." Max shoved a piece of toast into his mouth unceremoniously. "I went through the same thing when my birth parents first turned up. I called my parents everything under the sun because I thought I was angry, but I was actually confused. You see, whilst Alfie may be overly emotional sometimes, his house motto does have a point. It's okay to be so mad because sure, Together, We Fall, but also, together, we rise." He wrinkled his nose, "gross. Alfie would've been overly proud of that."

Scorpius quirked a smile, but said nothing. He had nothing to add. Max has gone through the same, confusing process at twelve - Scorpius had only been going through it for a week.

"So now you've had your confused stage, if you ever say anything about my parents ever again, I will hex you in your mediocre face and absolutely mean it."

Scorpius twinged an uneasy smile. "Got it. Are we friends again?"

Max rolled his eyes. "Enough with the sentiment. We always were, I just wanted to turn your eyes into beetles for a few days."

Scorpius cringed at the pretty grim imagery as Max crammed the last piece of toast into his mouth, mumbled something about needing to his class, and scarpered off without waiting a second more.

Scorpius was left in his wake, confused, bamboozled, but mostly glad he'd finally apologised.

He stared out over the Great Hall. And there, staring unflinchingly back was Rose Weasley. The out of his stomach dived and then soared back up. Even when he'd been mean to her, shouted at her, terrified himself that she'd never come back to him, her beauty still had the ability to make him feel like this.

Life really is hard.

—

The lamps on this corridor glowed a dim amber, flickering mysterious in the dark evening air.

He'd been meaning to do this for ages, now. He'd wanted to send a letter to his dad and ask for his advice, but then everything else happened and now he wasn't sure how to write to his father again...

But no, this was it. He was sure of it. He'd even had a dream of it, and that meant that it was certainly a good choice, right? Divination had never been his strong suit. He would've asked Alfie, but he didn't want anyone to find out until it was a certainty. A terrifying, exhilarating certainty.

He raised a hand to the side, oaken door, and stopped breathing for just a second.

A pause. Then,

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

"Yes? Who is it?" His voice was tired and muffled behind the door. The it opened, with the wide face of Professor Slughorn peering out from the side. "Oh, Scorpius my boy. Come in, come in."

Scorpius followed Slughorn into the office, and as the door clicked shut behind him, the knot in his stomach pulled taught. This was it. No turning back now.

"Professor, I'd like to accept the offer of apprentice to Geoffry Plantastrode."

Scorpius has a job! But, will he make up with Rose soon? Can he even get over the anger he has for her in time for the ball? Let me know what you think!

Also, fun fact time: Pandora's Box was actually more like a vase in the ancient Greek. And no one has ever figured out why only hope was left in it, but I've always thought that it was symbolic for the ability mankind has to do good things, even amongst the bad. Hope was the one thing Pandora managed to save - even though she'd unleashed all those other things. That being said, I'm very much an optimist, so this could just be me! Wow, I'm such a Classics nerd.

Tangent over. Anyway, please review if you've got time and follow for more. Thanks!