Chapter 5. Scorpius Malfoy.
Newspapers seemed to have ceased to write anything worth reading lately, and it occurred to Scorpius occasionally that the only reason he still bothered to read them was to keep him from focusing on Lily still being in bed or having gone to take a shower. Apparently, the realization that they were now husband and wife did away with the last vestiges of decorum that had still remained in his soul from his school days, when he was obliged to mind millions of rules, two-thirds of which had probably been written by the Potter-Weasley clan.
Of course, he did not mind all of them all of the time… And there were times when she – willingly – crossed the line herself… And he liked it, usually… But not always…
He languidly gazed at the wall before him, remembering the well-lit Slytherin Common Room and, in the middle of it stood a Gryffindor Fifth Year, staring intrepidly into his ice-cold eyes. Was she scared then but masked it well, or was she genuinely unaware that this look in his eyes meant that he was capable of anything at that moment: inflicting pain, exacting revenge? Maybe even killing… She should have run and hid, yet she boldly looked him in the eye, as though knowing something that would save her from the hurricane that could momentarily burst forth from the cold and calculating, dark soul of Scorpius Malfoy.
She must have known – Malfoy realized that in the years they have been together. What was it? He never asked her, not wanting to hear the answer.
Had Lily known about Liana McLaggen, who also had the temerity to look him in the eye, after stating shortly beforehand that he could not be loved? Had the brave Gryffindor known of the long and faceless throng of girls, whom he tormented and used, forcing ever further inside the very glimmer of thought that they might care about him? Had she known about the cold his soul always held as his body touched a girl's body? Did she know what was rankling and gnawing at his guts when she refused to run from the look in his eyes – the eyes of a Slytherin scoundrel?
He was hoping even now that she had not, for his dark past was too vile to mar, even for a moment, the thoughts of his kind, a tad naïve wife, who taught him to see the world in a new light…
But back then, he was still trying to keep her away from him, from his dark side; tried to show her that the man to whom she had said "I love you" existed only in her fantasies, viewed through her eyes in rose-coloured glasses… He was sure that he was but an illusion of hers… But she did not let him do it; she did not let him push away the hand she held out to him… To push away her love…
"You were never a Prince Charming, don't flatter yourself. I saw you, year after year, with all your stupid mannerisms, pranks, and jokes… I always knew that you could be cruel. You were able to create a fairy tale. If you were so horrible, if you didn't have a light inside you, you would not have been able to conjure the silver forest, where the snow is warm. But you created it, because there is a place inside you for this forest…"
She was speaking then, and he stood before her, speechless, feeling that at that very moment his past melted away from his soul; the past which was supposed to push her away: Liana's words were erased from his memory, as were the faces of all those who had crossed his path before her, before Lily…
Shaking his head to push aside the unsavoury thoughts about his wild school years, Scorpius picked up another issue of the newspaper, hoping to find at least a crossword puzzle to occupy him, while still continuing to listen to the footsteps in the bedroom, when they were drowned out by a rap on the window. Malfoy made a face, knowing now that the morning was likely to be on par with the rest of the day and, more out of spite than reluctance to move, waved his wand to make the window swing open and tap the uninvited owl visitor on its impudent beak. It is only his third day of being married (and most people are still unaware of that fact); why… should he worry about receiving post instead of enjoying his honeymoon in peace?!
Yet, even before his marriage to Lily Potter he had known that peace was not a thing to find within that family.
The bird shrieked in dismay, flapping its wings – it had definitely been trained at survival, but what would one expect from a Potter owl? All their pets must be like that, judging, for instance, by the couple of cats that hung around the apartment. Scorpius stepped on them on average thrice a day, unable to tell them from rugs.
The owl flew into the kitchen and sat on the edge of the table, out of Scorpius' reach, knowing enough, apparently, to stay away from him. Malfoy did not feel like messing with the bird, however, and so he merely took the letter from it, hemming in response to its indignant cry:
"I am not Potter to cuddle you; he is the designated hero-saviour or various idiot owls, who are unable to tell a wall from a window," the young man snorted, remembering yet again this morning the distant school day, when James decided to repel off the towel wall to retrieve a half-dead owlet from a ledge.
Scorpius immediately forgot all about the bird before him, opened the envelope and read the letter with a condescending smile on his face. He then set it on the corner of the table and returned to his newspaper.
"What is Gab doing here?"
Scorpius grinned, feeling Lily's soft fingers caress his neck. She put her arms around her and kissed his clean-shaven chin, momentarily pressing her body against his back.
"And good morning to you, too," Malfoy hemmed. "He wants to have breakfast with us. I offered him a bowlful of your cats, but he took offence to it..."
Lily laughed, reaching out and petting the pathetic excuse for a bird:
"What's in the letter?"
"What do you think?" Scorpius set aside his newspaper and chased the owl with the stupidest name he'd every heard off the table. Like the master, like the owl… Only, as far as Malfoy remembered, the owl's name was a practical joke on James, whose owl was also named idiotically, but in reverse – Bag. Scorpius seemed to remember that the little Potter gave that name to his new owl so that James would get all choked up with fraternal affection the night before his birthday…
"Albus is very worried that we will be late to see him off," Lily scanned her little brother's scribbles.
"Well, he has a good reason," Scorpius looked over Lily, still in her robe, and then glanced at the clock. "Although I think that you will get ready several times over before your brother even gets his physiognomy unstuck from the pillow…
"You should not have gotten carried away so in celebrating his birthday," Lily commented, heading for the bedroom.
"Tell him that; I had nothing to do with it," Malfoy smirked, amazed for the umpteenth time at Potter's bad luck of being born on August thirty-first. If only he waited one more day, Hogwarts Express would be a party ride… "Take a look at the fresh newspaper, please," he called out to his wife, too lazy to get up and get it himself.
Lily said something in response, and Scorpius, easy, returned to the crossword puzzle that he finally came across in the previous issue. Actually, he should have kept up with the newspapers, to keep abreast of the events in the wizarding world, but he hardly had any time in the last three weeks. He had been trying to find an obscure Quidditch team to buy and manage, conducted negotiations, traveled all over England, not to mention Potter with his news of "London Lacewings", his birthday, the honeymoon to top it off…
In short, no time for newspapers. Today would be another day he wouldn't be able to read a newspaper – Albus Severus Potter was leaving for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and ordered everyone to be come to his home, and to later escort him to the Platform 9¾ in style. The only upside of this event was the chance to enjoy watching the meeting of James and Albus, fond as they had always been of each other. Plus, it has been a while since he had last had the pleasure of seeing the former prefect Weasley… In other words, one could always make something good of a bad situation…
He suddenly heard a sharp knock on the door and, no more than five seconds later, the lock clicked, and Potter practically fell into the flat, apparently thinking nothing of crashing their abode without a warning simply because he knew the password.
"Hello, Jim; Hello, Xenia," Lily called out, and Scorpius decided to grace the visitors with his presence after all.
"Potter, one day you are going to come in just like this and see precisely that for which you punched me in our seventh year," Malfoy drawled, shaking his friend's hand and grinning in a very James-like manner. Well, after all they have been through, they couldn't help grin when they saw each other. He then winked at Xenia, whose smile was too joyous (for Potter's wife), and shifted his gaze to Lily who seemed too pale (for his wife). "Lil, are you all right?"
"Yes, quite," she answered a little tersely, rolling up the newspaper. "I shall get dressed; just give me two minutes," and she hurried to the bedroom, in an obvious attempt to evade Scorpius' interrogation, who considered Potters' attempts at fibbing a most entertaining act. Lily waved and disappeared.
"Something to look into," Malfoy thought in passing, before his friend distracted him.
"Well," Potter hemmed, plopping onto the couch, "We have a half hour then to grab a bite."
"Xenia, have you put him on a diet?" Malfoy chortled, stretching.
"No, she dragged me me shopping with her, and it was exhausting," Potter replied at once, smiling cunningly at his wife. Xenia rolled her eyes, and headed after Lily, apparently, for some girl talk.
Really, what else could they be talking about? About Potter? Doubtful… About him, Malfoy? Flattering, of course, but also doubtful…
"So, what have you got for breakfast?"