He stares out the window of the restaurant his parents have dragged him. The water from the lake they overlook gently laps at the side of the building, providing for a peaceful scene as the sun sets. Or, what would be a peaceful scene if it weren't for his parents not-so-subtly hinting at him to get his life together on the eve of his 27th birthday.
"There's always the vice president position at our potions factory, of course. Or if you insist on remaining so obstinate, my contact at the the Department of Magical Law Enforcement should be able to fit you in somewhere." Draco Malfoy doesn't really have 'friends;' the best one can get from him is 'colleague.'
"Are you seeing anyone new, sweetheart? Don't you think it's been long enough since you and that girl broke it off?"
"By 'that girl,' I assume you mean Magnolia? Who I dated for four years and you met dozens of times?"
"I never liked her," Astoria declares, wrinkling her nose delicately.
"You never like any of them," Draco and Scorpius say in unison, exchanging exasperated eye rolls.
"I'd like her if you were serious about her," she insists. "I could tell you were never really as interested as you claimed."
Scorpius thinks her animosity stems more so from the fact that on their second meeting, Magnolia had accidentally ruined Astoria's prize rose bushes, something his mother wouldn't have even forgiven him for, much less an outsider stealing away her precious only child.
"Forget your dating life. What are you going to do about your job?"
"I have a job," Scorpius responds as he always does. Draco raises an eyebrow but, either sensing Scorpius's weariness or feeling uncharacteristically charitable on his only child's birthday, refrains from saying more.
The rest of the dinner is spent mostly in silence.
As his best friend, Albus takes on the task of gathering their group of friends each year to celebrate Scorpius's birthday, usually at some bar. For reasons unknown to Scorpius, he also invites Scorpius's parents even though they've already celebrated separately with him. And for reasons also unknown to Scorpius, his parents accept.
So Scorpius is stuck sitting between his parents sipping their Firewhisky and his friends, unusually subdued in the presence of adults (Parents. Scorpius has to keep reminding himself that they are all technically adults as well.) at a location that would normally inspire raucous behavior. At least his friends were mostly Slytherin. He couldn't imagine the awkwardness if there had been a Gryffindor in the mix with his father at the table.
"So, Scorp. 27 years old. Any regrets so far in life?" Nathaniel Zabini grins at him.
"Probably fewer than you've had," Scorpius shoots back. Esthra Goyle laughs.
"That's a low bar, Scorpius. How about any goals? Anything you want to do before we're all old and 30?"
He can feel his parents next to him tense at the mention of goals and ambition, something they like to remind him frequently that he is lacking in.
"How is life overall?" Albus asks as though they don't talk every day in an effort to change the topic. Scorpius shrugs and plasters on a smile.
"The usual. Get up, paint, save you lot from getting into any more trouble than you already do."
Albus knows better than to ask the natural follow up question, having asked it each time before until Scorpius told him to stop, the answer twisting him up inside.
His father, however, knows no such boundaries.
"How long has it even been since you painted? Hell, doodled on a napkin?" Draco asks skeptically. "That studio isn't cheap, Scorpius."
Scorpius grits his teeth. It was bad enough eschewing the Malfoy tradition of living off the family fortune or, if one insisted on earning an honest living, having a respectable Ministry job all for a career in the arts. If he admits the last time he held a paintbrush was 6 months ago and the only times he's even picked up a quill is to sign off on a bill, his parents would have the 'I told you so' moment of their lives.
Scorpius doesn't know how to tell them the above and that he still wants to be an artist. He's just…uninspired at the moment. Well, several long moments spanning the course of six months or so, but still. It's temporary. So his family and friends don't need to know that he's having a bit of a professional crisis.
Luckily Nathanial makes a joke about Estra's lack of artistic abilities and the tension dissipates. Scorpius laughs with his friends, feeling lighter when they're around. He even sends out a biting quip or two with a sardonic smile as he used to.
But when they leave the restaurant and he goes back to his small, dark apartment, he can't help but feel very very alone.
His weekly dinners with Albus remain a constant bright spot for him. Even if he's had a shitty day, at least he can plop onto Albus's couch to complain, knowing his best friend would be there to listen.
"Albus," he calls out, removing his coat. "You better not make it too spicy this time."
In the middle of running a hand through his hair to get rid of the snowflakes, he catches the eye of a woman in Albus's living room and pauses.
The pursed lips, narrowed eyes, and curly red hair are features he hasn't thought about in years. Scorpius vaguely remembers Albus mentioning Rose returning from her self-imposed exile (in actuality, he knew she had been abroad working on her curse-breaking skills).
"Scorpius," she greets cautiously. Albus pokes his head around the doorway to the living room from the kitchen where he's making dinner. Scorpius is pleased to see he looks nervous given that he would've liked a bigger heads up that his high school nemesis would be here. Scorpius Malfoy is many things and petty was definitely one of them.
"Rose," he acknowledges her with a coolly polite tone before flicking his eyes to Albus. "Albus."
Albus smiles guiltily. "You remember Rose, right? She just came back a few days ago from Romania to start working at Gringotts."
He nearly snorts. As if he could forget Rose Weasley. He's pretty sure Professor McGonagall still has nightmares about the impromptu duels he and Rose broke out into at Hogwarts.
"I thought it might be nice to bring her around the old crew for a bit as she settles back in," Albus continues.
Scorpius glances very obviously around the apartment, which is empty save for the three of them.
"Well, the others had to cancel," Albus amends. "But I had already invited you both over for dinner."
"Right." Scorpius sends a dubious look to her. She gives a tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. Alright, so they're not friends but they're not going to break out into a duel, he decides. Good to know where they stand.
They settle in for dinner at Albus's kitchen table, a bit too close for comfort, but whatever, he can deal with it for one night.
He begins to doubt that almost immediately after she starts speaking.
"What exactly do you do again, Rose?" Albus laughs sheepishly. "I always forget the details, it goes over my head."
Rose rolls her eyes but it's clear she enjoys explaining once again how difficult her job is.
"I'm a cursebreaker like Uncle Bill, you know this," she says, not even trying to include Scorpius in the conversation. "At Gringotts I'll be helping people with their inheritances trying to get into highly cursed vaults. So many of them don't have the financial means to pursue this with legal representation so we try to do as much as we can for them. It's just nice to feel like I'm doing something worthwhile to help people."
Scorpius doesn't hide his eye roll. Clearly she is as self-important as she was during their teenage years, always looking down on others.
"What? Do you have a problem with my job?" she says coldly. Albus sighs and reaches for his wine glass.
"With your job? Not at all. With how you talk about it? Absolutely. You don't have to go around acting like you're better than everyone else because you feel like you 'help people.'" He makes air quotes around the last few words. Rose looks like she wants to throw her plate at his head.
"It's not my fault your life is spent not bettering society," she snaps back.
"Here we go again," Albus mutters. Scopius lets out a hollow laugh.
"You want to talk about bettering society? I think contributing to the arts scene, which is sorely lacking in the wizarding world, is bettering society. When has your work ever inspired anyone?"
"You, an inspiration?" She laughs.
Things dissolve from there.
That night, Scorpius goes straight to his studio, grabs a wide brush and attacks the largest canvas he has with slashes of red paint.