Plans Go Awry

As Scorpius Malfoy closed the door to his father's room early that Saturday morning, the words and promises still ringing in his ears did nothing to assuage the deep knot of dread in his stomach.

He made himself a sausage sandwich, using some of the barbecue leftovers Harry had promised him the night before and that he'd managed to grab just before Draco had rushed them off, and began to wait. Waiting for his father to get up, to be back to normal, (whatever that consisted of.) Waiting to get on with their lives.

After a few hours of listless worrying he wandered down the hall to Jake's flat hoping for a distraction. He was confronted with the typical family pandemonium that proceeds the last minute packing for a holiday. "We're just going down to Nan's in Brighton for a week. Sorry mate." It was with an even deeper feeling of gloom that Scorpius made his solitary way back home.

At midday a beautiful barn owl arrived, holding in its feet a letter addressed to his father. Scorpius crept back into his dad's dark room, placing it on the bedside table when he saw with relief that he appeared to be sleeping. The pill bottle was gone. His eyes scanned the room, but he was unable to see it anywhere. He left, a tiny shred of hope fluttering in his chest.

That evening, when Draco still hadn't surfaced, he prepared them both another meal; this time a burger squashed artfully between two slices of stale bread. He made them a black tea; the milk, he was upset to discover had gone sour. Another letter had arrived that afternoon, and he placed it on the tray with their food. He took a deep breath and entered the room once again. The letter he had brought in earlier had gone, and Draco lay topless with his back to the door. He shifted slightly, hearing his son's pleading voice and rolled over to look at him.

He looked rough, like he hadn't slept for weeks. The harsh electric light flooding the room from the hall highlighted cheekbones that stood out just a bit more than usual and a sharper jawline that the stubble couldn't hide. With a pang of worry, Scorpius realised that he'd lost weight. His eyes raked down from his gaunt face and were drawn to his left arm, to the red tattoo. It stood out painfully like an old wound and he noticed how horrible it really was. Before it had always been strange but a relatively normal thing to have; but now... A Dark Mark. The snake obscenely filling the skull's gaping mouth. How had he ever thought it anything but evil?

He blinked as suddenly the arm was drawn back and hidden under the covers. He felt a creeping shame at being caught staring and the resulting look of hurt in his dad's eyes. The silence was fraught with the unsaid implications of Scorpius' lingering gaze. He felt somehow jaded, as if with his awareness of what the tattoo actually was, his Dad's vague past wrongs were suddenly much more real; as if they were there hanging above them, watching like ghosts, and not things that could be brushed away and forgotten about like before.

Perhaps in a way, it was because of this mixture of guilt and worry that Scorpius insisted his father eat the burger with a real urgency. He sat down on the bed to eat his own; not taking his eyes off his dad until he had finished. It took a painfully long time, not helped by the fact that he was only using his right hand.

The next day followed a similar dreary routine and was similarly punctuated by visits from the barn owl. His dad had never been this bad before. Granted, he had at least opened the curtains and wandered about the flat a bit, but Scorpius could tell that nothing he could say or do was really getting through. Nothing could perforate that absent glaze to his eyes.

Scorpius began to feel his anxiety and worry build into panicky frustration. It was with a sinking heart that afternoon that Scorpius realised the meat wouldn't last another day. He wandered the decrepit block of flats aimlessly, unable to deal with being trapped in his suffocating home any longer. Each step he took made him feel worse and more hopeless. He descended the stairs, and slowly the frustration he'd barely been able to suppress at how useless his Dad was, began to replace his gloom, each step caused it to build. By the time he was at the bottom he was angry. The sort of anger that made him want to kick something hard, until the hot burning in his eyes went away.

He was furious at his father. For not getting up and making their life better. For introducing him to a life that would never be his; to family he could never see; to friends he could never meet again. Because of course his dad would never take them back to Harry's house. They were two worlds apart, and a happy, normal family, where kids didn't have to nick their own food, and dads didn't spend two days in bed, wouldn't be compatible with theirs.

He found a ball and began to kick it aggressively against the wall outside the flats entrance, thoughts churning relentlessly. He didn't care about their lack of money, where they lived. None of it mattered, not even that they were all going to Hogwarts and he wasn't. But they had a Dad who cared enough to throw them a stupid barbecue. It had been so much fun, so exciting, and completely relaxing to be at Harry's. For the first time in years he had been able to shrug off all of his stupid personas and just be himself.

With one particularly savage thought about his father he kicked the ball extra hard and it bounced off the wall at too great an angle for him to intercept. It rolled away and he chased after it, noticing as he did that a small, thin man was watching him from across the road. He picked up the ball and stuck two fingers up at him aggressively, mouthing fuck off, the words feeling big and ugly in his mouth. To his disquiet the man merely smirked and continued to watch. Feeling strangely unnerved Scorpius was actually relieved to see his usual gang of mates approaching from around a corner. He dropped the ball, stuck his hands in his pockets and sloped off to meet them, feeling wild and reckless. If his dad's complete failure as a parent was going to stop him from ever seeing Teddy, James and Al again, then he wouldn't sit around feeling sorry for himself any longer. If he couldn't be himself, he could sure as hell be someone else.

Scorpius awoke the next morning; stomach full of nerves, already anticipating what was planned for that afternoon. In his head he repeated the words Callum, (who at fourteen was his eldest friend, the unofficial gang leader and who had already been kicked out of two secondary schools,) had said to him: Nothing major. just as a lookout. Act casual, hang about the front of the shop. We'll do the real work. Although in the tepid light of morning he was already having regrets. At the time, yesterday evening had been great. Hanging out with that older group never failed to make him feel electrified. He had to watch what he said, how he acted, but once you had their acceptance, and you felt like you belonged... The messing about, the in-jokes, the rivalry with other gangs... It was such a thrill to feel part of something, despite how far from the kind of something he really wanted. Although the things that they said and did, (or claimed they did) made Scorpius uneasy, he couldn't help but feel a strong desire for their approval. Of course when they asked if he was free to help out on a job the following day he quickly agreed.

It made him feel dirty in hindsight; the warm feeling he got off Callum's resultant approving smile, his proud sips off a shared can of beer and his faux-casual use of swear words, but in the moment he seemed to forget that he didn't really want to be that person. While usually thinking about his dad and his heritage made him less inclined to be involved in his mate's various nefarious activities, yesterday evening it had been the driving force. For a while he had been able to forget about everything and immerse himself in another world. One where loyalty to your friends, braveness, cunning and of course, banter were most important, rather than education or family (or lack thereof.)

Scorpius got up and traipsed to the fridge, poking listlessly at the last remaining sausages. He almost felt relieved that the food situation was becoming so out of hand that he could tell himself his planned involvement this afternoon was completely justified, and not some heat of the moment thing. He needed to get together some money. Sure, he now had a bag full of wizard gold, but what good was that in the supermarket?

His eyes flickered to the bedroom door. He'd heard his father up and about last night and seen evidence of it this morning: an empty glass on the table and a book turned on it's pages on the sofa's arm. That could be a good sign? Although all of the food in the fridge was exactly as he had left it. For a second he considered going to say good morning, but felt unable to face him, especially after last night and in the knowledge of his plans for that afternoon... He returned to his bedroom with the last of the bread, and a massive guilty weight on his shoulders. He inspected his bookshelf, deciding to distract himself from his own shit life, yet again, by immersing himself this time in a far more forgiving kind of fictional world than that of Shawn and his Life of Crime.

After a few hours of reading Scorpius finally gave into his growling stomach. He banged open the door to the living room, and with a start noticed the barn owl was back. It was perched on one of the kitchen chairs and twisted its head around to look at him. Momentarily distracted from his nerves, Scorpius walked over and removed the letter from it's outstretched leg, mind alight with curiosity. He sorely wanted to know who was writing to his Dad so much. Was it someone calling in a debt? Someone threatening them? He was surprised when the owl didn't fly off. It remained, talons clutched to the wood, it's little silky heart shaped face turned up at him in a question. Strangely, he couldn't imagine such a sweet creature bringing bad news. Scorp frowned.

"What do you want?" Of course the owl didn't reply. "If you want food, I'm sorry, we don't have any." They owl hooted softly. Scorpius raised his eyebrows. He felt like he was having some kind of telepathic conversation. I'm sorry, I don't speak owl, he thought with a small smile, imagining what his mates would say if they could see him right now.

He sighed, taking a seat opposite the owl, and noticed the other letter on the table. This one, however, was addressed to him! "Did you bring me this?" He asked the owl. Of course it didn't react. He ripped open the thick envelope and with a sinking heart realised it was a book and materials list from Burbage. He dropped his head on to the table. More things we can't afford Mr Owl. There goes the rest of those Galleons.

Mr Owl was now nibbling on his fingers gently. He raised his head and glared balefully into it's deep black eyes. "What do you want?!" The bird clawed at his dad's letter. Scorpius' gaze rested on it, and he picked it up. "You want me to open this..?" He took the silence for an affirmative. Well, the name on the front only said Malfoy. It could technically be his?

With a guilty look at the door and a thrill of nerves, Scorpius carefully opened up the envelope, sliding out the enclosed letter. He began to read quickly, as if, by some strange possibility his dad may burst into the kitchen and catch him in the act.

Dear Malfoy

I don't know if you've been reading these, but until I hear back, I'm not going to stop. I've instructed Hansel not to return without a reply.

Scorpius looked back up, "So that's what your doing here." The owl blinked slowly.

I know you really don't want to hear from me; you made that clear on Friday night. And I don't blame you at all. Again, I am so sorry about how things ended. I shouldn't have been drinking. I should have made sure I could get you both back safely. For that I truly am sorry. My only excuse is that both you and Scorpius were so soundly asleep when I checked that I decided (in hindsight very rashly) you would probably stay until morning. I have to swear to you again that I would never willingly do anything to take Scorpius away from you, I could never do that to another father. My boys are everything to me and I know you feel the same way.

However you are feeling right now, (and I know I keep saying this, but it's so important) but please remember it is only an after effect of your potion ingestion. It is purely chemical and will naturally pass as your body and brain correct the balance the potion upset. Some things can't be cured with magic; you'll have to wait this one out. Whatever you do, do not think that filling the hole with the same, or something else will help. It will only eventually make things worse.

The boys have been asking non stop about Scorpius and I know Teddy is desperate to see him again before they go to Hogwarts. I know I am repeating myself but you are both more than welcome at any time. I will carry on repeating this until I hear back!

Also - I am having some problems with these warding equations and really am desperate for your help. This isn't 'pity' or an obliged sense of 'charity' as you put it, but a genuine plea for help!

All the best,

Harry

Scorpius re read the letter until the words began to blur and dance across the page. One traitorous tear escaped and fell, blotting on the paper. He dropped it on the table before it could happen again and held his face in his hands trying desperately to fight against the overwhelming flood of emotion Harry's words had triggered. He'd thought he'd accepted that he'd never seen them again. The letter was taunting him. He stood, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, angry at himself for being such a cry-baby. He roughly picked up the owl, causing it to flap, but he held on tightly, strode to the window and threw it outside into the air. It shrieked, twisting its wings as it straightened up and soared away. Scorpius slammed the window after it and began to cry properly. There was no chance his dad would reply anyway. There was no point in the owl coming back. He was too proud, too stupid. All Scorpius wanted to do was to write back himself. He could picture Harry arriving, rescuing them from this hell,whisking them both off back to the leafy paradise in north London and never looking back.

Scorpius prepared their lunch unsteadily, the tears slowly coming to an end, shaky breaths frantically trying to be calmed. He put the letter on a plate with the last of the sausages and practically threw it on the dresser in his dad's room without looking up and on his way out slammed the door behind him spitefully.

He ate his own lunch, then splashed some water on his face in an effort to cool down. He checked the clock, got dressed, jammed a cap down low over his eyes to hide the redness and headed out, the grim nerves jangling unpleasantly. No one was coming to rescue them, he needed to accept that. He repeated this mantra all the way down the stairs, drowning out the voice that cried for him to run back up and hide under the duvet, that he didn't need to honour his commitment to the boys, or to do what was best for his tiny family. He'd be no better than his father if he listened.

The shop that Callum had decided to target was a step up from the typical corner shop or newsagent Scorpius was used to. The prize today was not a packet of crisps and a bar of chocolate, but things far more valuable: dvd players, laptops or maybe an Xbox if they were lucky. The second hand electrical goods and repair shop that Mr Bhullar ran with his sons was a short cycle away from the estate. Don't shit where you eat, Callum had said and he ensured the group of four that it would be easy to get what they wanted. His older brother had heard the eldest sons had returned to Pakistan for a few weeks, that the shop was just going to be tended by the old man and his wife. Piece of fucking piss, had been Callum's exact words.

Riding on the back of Callum's BMX on the way Scorpius couldn't manage to hide his look of shock at the proud flash of blade the older boy gave him from his pocket. The other boys laughed at his wide eyed reaction. Shawn you're playing with the big boys now. How did you think this worked? He crouched, hands clenched on Callum's shoulders, feeling an urgent kind of dread and totally out of his depth, wishing above anything that he'd listened to the cowardly voice in his head. He could be curled up with the photo of his mum, holding Smaug, his treasured dragon toy from his dad, warm and safe. The boys were acting even more boisterously than ever, swearing at pedestrians and keying cars as they went. Scorpius hoped it was to cover their own nerves, and not because they'd drunk too much vodka. Callum had offered him the hip flask from his other pocket, but the smell had been disgusting and he had no desire to taste it. He glared at the passing houses as they neared their victims, trying harder than he'd ever tried before, not to let the tears resurface.

The shop was situated on a relatively quiet residential road and luckily for them it seemed that the sticky muggy atmosphere that summer had turned to was keeping people inside. Scorpius tried to take deep breaths to calm down as he dismounted the bike, surreptitiously wiping his soaking, trembling hands on his tracksuit trousers. He took his place leaning against a pole, body tense with the effort of making it appear relaxed. He jammed his cap down lower over his face as the others pulled out balaclavas and went inside.

Seconds felt like minutes. He was just able to make out the shouting from inside. A man's old, accented voice, Callum's straining to come across just as deep; it had broken earlier that summer, but he still couldn't sound like an adult. They weren't meant to be talking... Grab and run had been the plan. Scorpius focussed his attention away from the shop and back on the street, noticing as he did so that a man was leant against a wall along the road from where they'd come, and that he hadn't been there a second ago. He pushed himself away from the pole as he made the heart stopping realisation that it was the same man who had been watching him yesterday! Though he was not smirking this time, but looking straight at Scorpius with an alarming intensity. Scorpius felt the hairs on his body rise. How did he know where I am? When did he get here!?

Before Scorpius had time to fully form the distressing realisation that this man could be a wizard, he lunged, wrenched open the door and shouted at the others to get out. Something was very wrong. He barely had time to take in the scene; a man backed in the corner, Callum's hands shaking around the knife, a girl edging towards him, the other two boys hadn't noticed her, before he whirled back out of the door; and straight into a strong pair of male arms.

He shouted and twisted himself furiously. The arms tightened around his chest, pinning his arms to his body, drawing him closer. Other yells filled the shop, a crash, a chilling scream. He bit down hard on the man's bicep, drawing blood. With a surprised yelp from his captor he was free and he flung himself away, blindly smacking another man who had just turned up on the scene. His arms were wrenched away and wrists tightly held, the first man getting ahold of him once again on his other side. Scorpius strained uselessly, feeling a hysterical panic overtaking his body as his chance to escape vanished. His cap was pulled off and he thrashed about, refusing to look up into the adult's faces.

He was dragged back inside the door and saw the scene had changed. His gaze was drawn instinctively, horrifically, to the violent bloom of thick dark blood that was spreading over the white clad thigh of the teenage girl. Someone was screaming for an ambulance, she was leaning against a rack of televisions, her hands uselessly pressing against the stab wound, the blood oozing between her fingers. The room swam and Scorpius sagged, fingers cutting painfully into his arms. They dragged him past the unconscious body of Callum, surrounded by glass, his little knife slicked red. Scorpius stared at it and through the rushing and pounding in his ears, a certain muttered word filtered through. Police. Suddenly Scorpius realised with clarity, he had to escape. It was not a matter of choice. Without warning something felt like it ruptured deep within him and a fluid, gushing sensation of energy rushed from his chest down his limps, leaving them tingling and numb. He didn't even pause, knowing instinctively that this was his magic and what it would help him do. He wrenched himself one last time away from the men and miraculously, incredibly, slid from their grip.

"Oi! Someone grab the little shit!" a voice yelled. The old man lunged for him, but Scorpius slipped easily through his arms as if he were a wet bar of soap. He could feel their hands on his skin, but they just couldn't stick. One last attempt was made as he neared the door, but he evaded the grasping hands easily. He burst outside, and nearly tripped over the bikes in his haste to sprint down the street, the men's shouts, the girls shrieks, a barking dog and the distance sound of a siren weaving a cacophony within his ears. He ran from it all, ran down the road, the fasted he'd ever run before, and didn't look back.

Scorpius didn't stop sprinting for what felt like forever. His lungs burned, he sucked his breath in in long, rattling gasps, the stitch in his side was agony, but still he didn't stop. Not until he could be sure he wasn't being followed. There was no way he could let that creepy man could find him again... After a while the buildings began to get bigger, the rows of houses and flats turned into shops and then into concrete and glass offices. The streets were starting to fill with people.

Finally, he allowed himself to slow to a jog. He slipped into an alley, crouching against the wall, trying to stop his shaking, burning legs from fully collapsing under his weight. After starting to catch his breath he tried to stand back up but his head swam and he swayed, just caught himself and was violently sick. It burnt his throat and he coughed, bringing a trembling hand to wipe across his lips. He leant back and tried not to think of all of the blood... About that girl, her face screwed up in shock and pain. And Callum. What happened to him? Was he okay?! I just left them all. How much time do I have before the police catch up with me? Would they send to a muggle jail for a muggle crime? Or would he end up in Azkaban? What happens to eleven year olds who take part in... God, was it armed robbery? He felt his legs shake again as the enormity of what they had done began to really sink in... He should have left when he saw the knife.

What was wrong with him? Someone could have died! How could he face his father... He imagined his dad, eyes distant, arms folded, mouth set in a thinly veiled sneer the aurors took him away. Scorpius gasped, brought his hands to his eyes and slammed his head back into the brick wall as if the physical pain would stop that train of thought from developing, the crushing sense of shame and panic. He couldn't face that right now.

"Are you alright, dear? Are you lost? Where's your mum?" A woman's voice spoke uncertainly to his left, startling him. His eyes snapped open, took in her kind, concerned face, her reaching hand, and he stumbled away from her up the alley.

This time Scorpius wandered aimlessly, numbly, not knowing what to do, where to go. Not before long he found himself swept up in a purposeful throng of muggles, all seemingly heading towards a large roundabout with a huge billboard in the middle. He was properly in central London now, and he realised he probably stuck out like a sore thumb. He hadn't seen another child in a long time, let alone one by himself. A faint siren carried through the air and Scorpius regained his purposefulness. It grew louder as it made its way towards the roundabout. He panicked and pushed into a run, barging his way through the crowd. With a feeling of huge relief he realised they were heading towards an underground station. He forced his way down the steps, treading on feet, nearly sending a woman flying, just getting underground as the siren went past. He carried on, pushing bodies apart, ignoring cries and muttered curses. He squeezed through the barriers, just getting through after someone else, took the escalator at a run, flew on to the platform and just managed to press himself into the departing train before the doors shut.

The train pulled away and he leant against the doors, gasping breath clearly audible in the quiet, commuter filled carriage. He was pressed against the hip of one woman and his face was perilously close to the damp armpit of a man but he didn't care. He was safe in that hot, stuffy crush of muggles for now.

It took Scorpius a couple of minutes to realise where he was heading and for the lady's announcement to sink in. "This Northern Line train terminates at Edgware via Bank. The next station is Kings Cross St Pancreas." Could it be..? He strained his head round, just making out the map on the other side of the carriage. His eyes ran up the black Northern Line until they found... Hampstead.

He let up a huge breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Yes, Harry's, he would go there. With that thought he felt himself relax slightly and spent the rest of the journey focusing on counting down the stops as they traveled north.

During the walk from the station to Harry's house Scorpius began to second guess his decision, despite knowing he literally didn't have a choice. He simply couldn't return home, that man knew where he lived and undoubtably would have informed the police. And if he was a wizard, which Scorpius had the worst feeling was the truth, (how else could he have found him so easily?) far worse consequences than the muggle police would waiting for him there.

He entered Harry's road and his pace slowed further as the urge to run away fought over that to be somewhere warm and safe. He pressed on, forcing himself to think about the letter. 'More than welcome at any time.' He didn't even know what he'd tell Harry, he had never been as unprepared for a confrontation as this. His mind was completely blank, he was unable to think of anything rational or coherent.

When Harry opened the door and Scorpius saw the brief look of surprise the wizard gave him, for an awful second Scorpius thought he would send him away. But then with the welcoming smile that was meant for him alone, he was completely unable to hold back the tears that he had been fighting against since reading that letter.

The hug that he was pulled into just made it worse and he sobbed freely into the man's side, tears soaking into his shirt. He felt himself relax into Harry's warmth, the homely smells of clean laundry, aftershave and cooking filling his nose, and the security of adult arms that offered protection rather than attempted capture. How he could find such comfort in a man who was practically a stranger he didn't know, but slowly the racking sobs calmed slightly and he heard Harry ask if he wanted to have some tea.

Scorpius trailed anxiously into the house after him, keeping an eye out for the other boys; he would be mortified if they saw him like this. To his relief Harry led him into the empty living room and he sat down on one of the massive squashy sofas, sinking into the cushions. Harry silently offered him a tissue and he took it, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. He felt completely raw and was intensely relieved the wizard hadn't bombarded him with questions. He hadn't cried this much in one day since his mother had died.

Harry brought him a tray with a plate of shepard's pie and a glass of water and sat down next to him with a half eaten plate of his own, explaining the boys were in the kitchen eating theirs, but he had asked them not to come in. Scorpius dropped his head.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" Harry asked, apparently surprised.

"For interrupting your dinner. You don't need to sit in here with me." He mumbled.

Harry smiled. "Don't be silly. I want to sit with you." Scorpius awkwardly swallowed the pie he had been chewing on and looked up at Harry who was regarding him steadily.

"Dad... he doesn't know I'm here. I read your letter today." Instead of the expected disapproval Harry's expression barely changed, as if that's what he had assumed.

"Scorpius, has something happened this evening?" The boy's eyes dropped and he gazed at his food, not answering. "Please Scorp, what's going on? Has someone tried to hurt you?" He shook his head violently. "Then what are these?" Harry asked, reaching out to his upper arm. Scorpius looked to where Harry was referring and with a jolt noticed two huge hand shaped bruises were starting to bloom across his biceps and wrists where the men at the shop had been restraining him. He shakily touched the bruises on his left arm and winced slightly at the pain.

"It's nothing!" He blurted out, cursing internally at his slow reacting mind for failing to come up with anything more eloquent. Harry frowned.

"Is something going on at home?" Harry asked quietly. Scorpius jerked his head up from his food and met Harry's eyes in surprise, understanding at what he was implying jolting him slightly from his shock. He thought of his dad's hagged, pale face peering at him in the darkness and then the feeling of the stranger's hands digging into his arms and his frantic desperation to escape.

"It wasn't my Dad! He would never hurt me!" He said shrilly, gazing into Harry's face imploringly, willing him to believe him. At his words, the man's eyes widened slightly.

"Okay, okay, I believe you, but who did this?" But the boy had looked away, and shut his eyes, trying to calm his breathing as his heart began to pound again as he relived it. He saw again the thick, dark oozing blood and the red knife. Callum lying as if dead. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to breath in harder, but it wouldn't work. He barely noticed that Harry had taken away his food, and was now thrusting a small, open bottle into his hands. "Drink this, it will help." Harry gently helped him lift the potion to his mouth and he gulped the lot down.

Immediately he felt his heart and breathing return to normal and a calm descend on him, blanketing the panic. He looked down at the bottle label.

Melody's Medicine for Magical Maladies

Calming draught for kids aged 5-12

One dosage

For when it all ends in tears!

He looked back up at Harry and felt himself smile slightly. "Calming potion?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at the smile. "Yes, something you're familiar with I suppose? I don't really like giving these potions to the boys but they're useful sometimes." Scorpius felt his smile falter in guilt and studied his lap.

"Listen Scorp, I really want you to try and finish your dinner, I'm just going to check on the boys and then I'll be back. I'm going to take you home." Scorpius felt his stomach drop.

"Please! You can't! I can't go back!" But Harry was shaking his head.

"Shh, it'll all be fine. I'll take you straight to your door." Scorpius lay back into the sofa and knew he didn't have a choice. "I can't keep you here without your dad knowing, Scorp, it wouldn't be right. I know he won't like it. You'll be back soon enough though, and next time you can see Al and James, okay?"

"Dad can't know about these. Please don't tell him?" He said, gingerly touching his wrists.

"Scorpius, you need to tell him! You can't keep something like this form him! He would want to know."

"It was just a fight! I was just in a muggle fight with some other boys!" Apparently the calming draught had helped screw his head back on and help find his voice. Harry pursed his lips and shook his head again. "You don't understand! He can't find out! It'll upset him too much! He hasn't... He's barely spoken since Friday night! He's barely been out of his room." Scorpius trailed off, before continuing in quiet voice. "If he sees these bruises and knows I've been fighting it'll upset him even more and then I'll never get him back. I don't want him to..." He spoke in barely a whisper, but couldn't finish the sentence. Take any more of those drugs. He glanced a look at Harry and saw the wizard was gazing at him in obvious concern and worry. With a sigh Harry left the room and returned with a small pot. He took the boy's arms and gently rubbed in a strong smelling poultice. "This will make the bruises fade."

After Scorpius had attempted to eat the rest of his food, he left the house with Harry, walking close to his side, a bag containing a box of leftover shepard's pie for his dad clutched in his hand. Harry took them to an old bus stop down the road and Apparated them to a park in Bethnal Green. Scorpius walked even closer to Harry as he led them to the estate and was practically hanging off his arm by the time they got there. He felt ready at any moment to flee at the sight of flashing blue lights in the darkness or black and white clad police, but miraculously the square outside their block was empty. With a great sigh of relief he led Harry up the stairs to their floor.

They arrived at their door and he turned to say goodbye. Harry kept throwing glances at the door, but instead of going inside he smiled down at Scorpius, put his hands on his shoulders and told him that he would be seeing him very soon and to trust him that everything would be fine. As Harry walked away Scorpius tried to believe him, but found he couldn't. He took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

He was met by sight of his father sitting at the table and on his face flashed a brief jolt of relief before it became expressionless. He stood up as Scorpius edged into the room, his own relief at seeing Draco up and responsive also quickly giving way to something else. Anyone else seeing the slight tightening of his eyes and the hardening of his mouth wouldn't have thought anything of it, but Scorpius recognised the sight of his anger.

"Where have you been?" He asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"Nowhere."

"Who were you just talking to outside?"

"No one!" Draco slid across the table Harry's letter from earlier.

"You read my letter?" Scorpius bit his lip, knowing denial was useless. "Did you bring Potter to our flat?" His dad's face was calm but Scorpius knew how much he was holding back. He didn't answer and his father's face darkened. "So, you decided to go and spend the day with Potter, behind my back? Had a fun day did you?"

Scorpius felt himself quicken to anger at the injustice of his dad's words. "It wasn't like that!"

"What was it like then?" He picked up the letter and shook it. "You read this, foolishly gulped down Potter's words, thought you'd run off and hang out with him?"

"No! I didn't! You - You don't know what I just went through for you!" Scorpius felt his voice rise into a shaky yell.

"What you just went through! For me?" His dad had lost his cool now too and his own voice was raised threateningly. "Running to fucking Potter, begging for his help to come and sort me out!? Don't pretend that was for me! Oh I bet it was a real hardship for you, to go back and play on their brooms and watch his TV just to bring me back another of his charitable meals." Scorpius dropped the bag of Shepard's pie on the floor and glared at his father, trembling with rage at how unfair he was being, how horrible he was, and how much he found he hated him. It was painfully unfair. He couldn't even defend himself, as he had just realised that being at Harry's all day really was the perfect alibi. "I'm just sorry I can't give you the same. I'm sorry I don't have all that muggle shit you love so much and I'm sorry I don't have the money to buy you what you want." His voice was dripping with sarcasm and it hurt Scorpius in a way that shouting couldn't.

"I don't want you to buy me anything! I don't want all that stuff! I just wanted you to be my dad! Harry brought me home, he didn't want me to be there without you knowing! It's not his or my fault you're a shit dad!" He shouted hysterically. His father looked shocked, like he had been slapped and with that Scorpius fled to his room, slamming the door behind him. He got into bed, fully clothed and threw Smaug hard across the room, smacking him satisfyingly into the wall. He closed his eyes and lay there, finding it easier than he'd found all day not to cry. He realised it was probably still the calming draught working its magic, or maybe that he'd just run out of tears.

After a couple of hours lying in bed, the days events twisting over and over in his mind, boiling anger at his father slowly subsiding into resentful misery, he was alerted to a tapping on his window. He wrenched himself up, opened the curtain and saw a small owl perched there on the sill. He opened the window and it hopped inside, offering him a leg. He untied the letter and saw that it was addressed to him. He gave the owl a stroke and opened the envelope.

Dear Scorpius

I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning? I understand you received your books and materials list today and so will be needing to make the trip at some point. I've got a couple of free hours tomorrow and need to pick up a few things myself, so I thought perhaps we could go together! It's not unusual for teachers to accompany students from the muggle world on their shopping trips, and while I know of course, that you are from a wizarding background, I enjoyed your company so much at Harry's barbecue I thought it would be a nice chance for us to get to know each other a little better before term starts and I have to start being your scary Headmistress..! Check it's OK with your dad first, write your reply on the back of this letter and send it back with my owl. If you say yes, I will be round for 9.30am.

Looking forward to your reply,

Hermione Granger

Before he could question the wisdom of what he was doing he was writing down his confirmation and address and reattaching the letter to the owl. He watched her swoop away into the darkness and got back into bed. His dad wouldn't be happy, but after tonight Scorpius found he didn't care.

A/N So that chapter was pretty long and I could have split it into two. The most natural point would have course left you with a huge cliffhanger and I hate reading those (esp. with my fave character) so decided not to do it. However, if anyone thinks I should have, or my chapters in general should be shorter then please let me know! (along with any other thoughts of course)