Chapter 3
Grayson grabbed his collar and slammed him into the hard castle wall. Scorpius cursed under his breath, regretting talking back to the guy who wanted to kick his ass; giving him a reason and the motivation he needed to do so. He could feel his collarbones starting to bruise up.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. There, you happy? I’m sorry, just let me go already.” He was getting late for his library time; he was assigned to finish a book on Potions and he didn’t have any other free time for it. He just wanted this confrontation to be over with.
“Let you go?” The blonde girl, Bailey Chase, purred. “No, no, no, Malfoy, we’re not going to just let you go. You won’t get away that easily. Not this time.”
“What have I even done to you?” He asked between his struggle to breathe.
“Other than acting like you can just sign up to the trainee program and forget all about just what a trash you and your last name are in your pathetic dreams of becoming a healer, nothing.” Derek Jones said. An impressively long sentence for his small brain. “But I think that’s enough reason, don’t you guys agree?” The other two hummed in approval.
Mark Grayson raised his fist to the air, aiming at Scorpius’ face; making the blonde flinch and clench his eyes shut, waiting for the impact and the hot white pain. But a voice cut him off. “Get your filthy hands off of him.”
Shit. Scorpius used Grayson’s momentary shock to crane his neck around him and take a look at the newcomers. Al. And Rose. Double shit.
“What was that, Potter?” Jones asked, but Al didn’t even bat an eye to him, his focus solely on Grayson and Scorpius. So, Rose took it upon herself to shut the guy up.
“Shut the fuck up Derek. The only thing you scare anyone with, is your uncombed hair of seventeen years and that ridiculous, clownish trousers. You disgust me. I feel shame for being in the same quidditch team as an idiot like you.”
“I said let him go.” Al returned to the script. He kept staring into the icy grey eyes, rage hidden in his words. Rage for me, registered in Scorpius’ head, and he felt dizzy with joy despite the situation.
“And if I don’t?” Grayson grabbed Scorpius’ chin harshly, drawing a whine from the blonde, and gave a sadistic smile. “What are you going to do then, Potter?”
Ooh. Bad move.
Scorpius had gotten pretty close with Al in the past half-year of their friendship. He had gotten pretty good at reading him too. So, he could see from the way that his fists clenched, jaw was working, and eyes were burning; that Al was one step from exploding like a goddamn grenade.
“I suggest that you do.” It was quiet and grave, it chilled the blood in Scorpius’ veins even though it wasn’t directed at him.
The trio of bullies only laughed though. Idiots.
“Well, I don’t think I will. Derek, Bailey? Handle them.” Chase and Jones took out their wands and stepped forward.
“I’ll take the girl.” Rose said, drawing her wand. “You take the guy. And wait for him to attack first.” She added in a hushed whisper.
Al grumbled, also taking out his wand, and seemingly not liking the order, but agreeing to comply. The two stood side by side as they waited for Chase and Jones to make their moves.
They didn’t have to wait for long.
Bailey Chase was a smart witch; Rose knew that much. She did well with her exams and raised her hand multiple times a lesson, like Rose. But their difference was that Chase only had theoretical knowledge and no practical information or experience; while Rose had grown up with her parents and family friends teaching her a spell or two every couple of months, and allowing her to use her wand –that she had gotten at the age of seven– inside the house, with supervision, to practice.
Hermione Granger-Weasley was a muggle-born witch, married into a “blood traitor” family and on top of that, the Minister of Magic after all, not to mention a war hero. Rose and Hugo have both been taught to defend themselves, just in case, since they were little kids.
Bailey Chase was a smart witch, but she was no match for Rose Weasley.
The redhead chewed her up and spit her out, quite literally. Their “duel”, if it could be called a duel, only lasted for fifteen seconds. Though those fifteen seconds were enough for Rose to show the foolish girl just how much she was overestimating herself.
Al had luck similar to hers.
He knew that Derek Jones was a complete moron, with good reflexes and an admirable durability. Al also had muscles, though he could not compete with Jones’, they were the size of his head. But. Jones was stupid. Like, downright an idiot. He didn’t know many spells, or strategies; only how to repeat the same three hexes until his opponent fell.
But, well, that wasn’t Al.
It wasn’t long before he joined his dearest friend on the floor as a heap of stunned and petrified muscles.
Derek Jones was a strong wizard, but he was no match for Al Potter.
And that left Mark Grayson. The guy glowered at the two who had defeated his friends and gave a growl. He pushed Scorpius away; causing the blonde to trip over his own feet, fall and hit his head. Rose gasped and rushed forward, running by Grayson who didn’t bat an eye to her, and kneeling beside her friend.
Al saw red.
“You and me Potter.” Grayson was saying. “Just you and me.” Al was more than happy to comply.
“Expeliarmus!” He yelled out a disarming charm the same time Grayson yelled out a stunning charm. They both dodged. He could see Rose and Scorpius from the corner of his eye, if he squinted, but he needed to give his mind to the game. He couldn’t lose to Grayson.
He wanted to squish him like a bug.
Though the sight of red on his two closest friends distracted him, very much so; almost costing him the duel.
Because that red didn’t match the tone of Rose’s hair.
Grayson wasn’t dumb, or weak, he could hold his ground. This fight would be longer than the other two.
Scorpius’ head was hurting and his sight was fuzzy, he couldn’t make out the duelers. Though he could still hear the yelled-out spells. They kept repeating each other and coming right after one another, making the blonde’s head swim. He let out a groan as the minutes passed by, and the voices got louder.
“Stupfy!”
“Protego! Incarcareous!”
“Protego! Expulso!”
“Expeliarmus!”
“Protego! Reducto!”
Al’s last spell caused an explosion, blowing up a nearby tree. Professor Hagrid was going to be so mad, or worse, upset. But at least the explosion distracted Grayson enough to be disarmed. Scorpius’ vision was slowly coming back, he could see as Al caught the seventh year’s wand with ease when it flew towards him, and thrived it snapping it in half.
“No!” Grayson yelled. Al smirked.
He then started stalking towards him, his own wand still in hand and directed towards the older. He stopped a foot from Grayson, waited a stretching moment, and then punched him square on the face.
Mark fell to the ground holding his face and covering beneath Al. The Slytherin used his feet to turn him over and pressed on his chest to keep him the way he wanted.
“If you touch him again, it’ll be the last time you do so.”
Scorpius felt some of the blood currently rushing out from the gash on his head, flow to his cheeks. A completely inappropriate time to be blushing for and crushing on his best friend if you asked him. But his timing had never been very good anyways.
Grayson nodded in fear and scrambled away, leaving behind his stunned and petrified friends. Such a loyal guy, am I right?
Then Al turned around and started stalking up to him and Rose. The blonde only then realized that he was leaning on the Gryffindor and having her cover the gash at the side of his head with her maroon tie and hands, in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
Al kneeled by him and held his face gently. “Are you alright?” He asked in a soft voice, but Scorpius could not focus on anything other than the pair of emeralds on his friend’s face, and how stupid his question was. (Like, come on. He’s obviously not okay. But he didn’t say that, because that would take too much effort.)
Scorpius was delusional, dizzy, nauseous, and could see the black spots starting to appear in his vision. His eyelids dropped completely as Al yelled out his name, and the blonde managed to finally diagnose himself with a concussion as he blacked out.
It wasn’t fair, really. He was going to miss being carried princess-style to the Hospital Wing by Al Potter, like a damsel in distress. But he would have plenty of similar experiences with him from then on, if the way the raven held his unconscious body close and careful –like he was something to be cherished– was anything to go by.
***
Poppy Pomfrey had been unsure about accepting Scorpius Malfoy as a trainee at first.
She had been the healer of the last two generations of his bloodline, and had shared classes with the third. Needless to say, her prejudice against him, hadn’t been all that un-logical; she had been judging from experience after all (and keeping her worries to herself because she refused to be hostile to a teenage boy for no reason other than his last name).
Though she had been fast to realize and accept her mistake at that thought, after only a couple of hours with the young Malfoy. He had been one of the kindest and nicest students to ever walk in her infirmary, as a patient or an intern!
Poppy had come to love the boy in less than a week, looking out for his platinum blonde hair and bright smile whenever he had a shift. The boy was very shy and closed-off from the outside eye; but was very affectionate, sassy and funny once you got to know him. He radiated warmth and peace, Poppy loved having him around and training him. She just knew that he would be one successful healer.
Which is all to say that her heart dropped to her stomach when she saw the boy in Al Potter’s arms; his blonde strands coated in thick, red liquid. And that she saw red once she learned what had happened to him.
She barked out at Rose Weasley to go get Minerva and told Al to stay out of her way if he didn’t want to be kicked out. It took her less than a minute to verify that she wasn’t equipped to handle such a wound –by herself and in a school infirmary with limited equipment– and summon her coat.
It made Al jump.
“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice trembling.
“Admitting him to the St. Mungos.”
“Why, is it that bad?” Poppy was sure that those were tears in Al’s eyes.
It was a shame that she didn’t have time to comfort or console him.
“Yes.”
She pushed at Scorpius’ bed and led it through the castle, using simple spells and getting Filch’s help to get to the ground level and hurry to the warehouse by the school’s borders. The patronus that she had sent ahead had ensured that Hagrid would be waiting for her, and sure enough he was. She gripped a palm of Floo Powder and stepped into the wide, wide chimney, pulling Scorpius’ bed in as well; but stopped abruptly as Al stepped in too.
“Mr. Potter, you cannot come with me.”
“I won’t leave him alone.”
“I’m not asking Mr. Potter, I’m telling. Leave this instance and return to the castle.”
“No.”
Poppy looked into the familiar emerald-green orbs that shone bright with that fierce stubbornness –like his grandmother, like his father– and sighed. Though it was more guilty than resigned. “I’m sorry Al.” She said, and before the boy could question her, swished her wand to push him back a couple of steps and into Hagrid’s awaiting arms. Then she dropped the Floo Powder and yelled out, “St. Mungos.”
Green captured her and her injured intern as Al shouted in rage and disbelief, and they disappeared from the warehouse. The flames licking over her body didn’t burn, only felt warm; like when the sun shined on her through the castle windows or the chimney was aflame and she was sitting close.
She wondered if Scorpius could feel it too.
***
Al was led back to the castle by a nagging Filch and a pitying Hagrid.
He hated it.
Both Filch’s stupid words that were jabbing at him and telling him how stupid he was for thinking that he could leave the school grounds just like that, and Hagrid’s puppy-dog eyes staring at him with too much understanding and sadness in them. Especially that he was being led back to the castle and couldn’t go with Scorpius.
It didn’t take Professor McGonagall too long to find them; they were only ten steps into the school when she did, coming up to them with quick steps, and Rose in tow. “Where are they?” She demanded as soon as she was in the ear-shot.
Her face was pale and her eyes were wide. She was afraid. Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Minnie; was afraid. It made Al finally grasp just what the situation’s extent was. And he couldn’t help the tear sliding down his cheek. Then another one. And another one. Rose’s face paled too.
“Madam Pomfrey took him to the St. Mungos.”
Minerva sucked in a sharp, agitated breath; and closed her eyes, as if praying. She probably was. To what –to which deity, or a dead loved one– Al didn’t know; but she probably was. To not outlive another one of her students. Especially because of something like this. From a concussion, with a coup to the head, that was the result of petty bullying.
Even the simplest actions, even the stupidest situations and decisions, could cost people their lives. Al was only then grasping that fact, really grasping it, and the reality of it. I can lose him, he realized, one of my best friends, the best routine I ever had, the favorite part of my day, the reason I enjoy getting hurt just a little bit, because it means that I get to see him. My crush. Maybe even my love. And I can lose him.
He didn’t remember being led back into the castle by Rose, as McGonagall sent a patronus to the Malfoy Manor and left in a haze to get to the St. Mungos. He didn’t remember entering the Kitchens and sitting down by the house elves. He didn’t remember taking sips of the hot cocoa Winky made for him, or biting into the sandwich that Millie was kind enough to offer.
Scorpius’ favorite, Al realized at the back of his head, in his subconscious. Cheddar cheese, olives and some lettuce, with just a bit of tomato slices. And before he knew it, he was crying again.
“Oh Honey.” Rose crooned, and embraced him. She held him close and tight, as he ruined her shirt with tears and snot. He couldn’t help it, he was scared.
He had been that scared before; when he was five and his mom had fallen off of her broom in the middle of one of her many games, and almost became a lump on the ground (thank God for that beater and her teammates always having her back).
And when he was seven and his dad had been MIA for two whole days after attending one of the riskier missions.
And when Teddy had crashed his motorcycle on the way over and was all bloody and bruised when he arrived home.
And when James had gotten chicken pox and it was really bad.
And when he had lost Lily in the Diagon Alley and had cried for three hours straight while looking for her, thinking that she had been kidnapped and that they would never see her again, before finding her in a candy store.
Those were all very scary moments, some of the scariest of his life. And now, there was a new one to add to the mix. Al couldn’t forget how Scorpius’ eyes had rolled back and his head had lolled to the side as he passed out. He couldn’t forget just how wrong it had felt to see red all over him; in his hair, on his clothes, leaking out of his head. He couldn’t forget just how vulnerable he had felt in his arms, unconscious and limp; and just how much he wanted to wrap the boy in a fluffy blanket and hide him from the rest of the world.
He couldn’t forget.
Rose pushed him back gently, wiping his cheeks and putting the cocoa back into his hands. He took a sip from the half empty, long-cold mug, and hoped that the sweet taste would ease some of his anxiety. It didn’t.
“Al? You with me?” He nodded slowly, not meeting her eyes. He didn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes unless they were the icy grey ones of Scorpius Malfoy. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” He said eloquently.
She hummed. “Me too.”
It was quiet for a while afterwards, both of them leaning on each other and just dissociating. Thinking of their favorite blonde and trying desperately to not cry anymore because they didn’t want to cry anymore, and crying about it only gave them a headache and made it all the more real.
It was Rose who dared to ask that question.
“What if he doesn’t make it?”
It sounded as loud as a gunshot; the quiet, whispered question echoing in the wide, empty area like how a gun would, if it was to go off in an empty field.
“He will.” Al forced out, his voice beyond broken and wet, and his belief on the matter barely even there. “He has to.”
“But if he doesn’t?” The words felt like scraper against her throat, pushing them out without letting the tears fall made her voice crack, and Rose's hands started trembling. “What if he’s-” She swallowed the sudden sob down and forced herself to keep going. “What if he’s living the last moments of his life right now, and we’re just sitting here. Waiting. Doing nothing. Away from him. Doesn’t he deserve to have us by his side? Don’t we deserve to be by his side? When he’s-” When he’s dying, she couldn’t say; but Al understood her all the same. He always did.
She burst into tears, and this time her cousin held her and rubbed her back, consoling and comforting her till the hiccups died down.
“He does.” He said, after she finally quieted down. “He does deserve it.” There was a determined glint in his eyes, the kind that usually got them in trouble. But Rose couldn’t find it in herself to inch away at the sight of it this time. Instead, she perked up and hanged onto it with dear life.
“What does that mean?” She asked. “What will we do?”
“We’ll be by his side when he wakes up.” And we’ll be by his side if he doesn’t too. “We’ll go to the St. Mungos.”
“How?”
“Brooms are too slow. Floo network is already out of question, I’m sure Filch is guarding it.” He started the brainstorm. “We need something else.”
“We could sneak into Hogsmeade and use Rosmerta’s Floo network or something.”
“We could sneak into Hogsmeade, maybe if we don’t use the passage-way; but not into the shops. There are alarms, the owners would be holding us from our scruffs and kicking our asses back to the castle before we could even take a step into the buildings.”
It was true, things have changed in Hogsmeade in the past couple of years. After a small gang of thieves haunting the town for a full month straight, the townspeople had decided to get better security. And better security, they had gotten. Sneaking in or out of a shop, or any building, was practically impossible nowadays.
(Which was why they couldn’t take the passage-way, they really wouldn’t be able to sneak out of a closed off and locked up Honeydukes. Really, they had tried before, it hadn’t worked.)
“Maybe if we’re fast enough?” It would be a futile attempt, Rose knew it.
“There has to be a better way, we just have to think of it.”
Neither of them even proposed the idea of the House Elves. Yeah, no, Minerva had banned any and every House Elf from ever taking a student out of the school borders –unless the students were in life threatening danger, in which case, they were to help evacuating–, after James’ massive fuck up at his fourth year and his unavoidable confession of how he got in and out of the school as he pleased.
In the end, it was Rose that had The Light Bulb Moment TM. “Lily.” Though she didn’t make much sense. Al slowly turned around and looked at his cousin with the most confused expression ever, after subtly looking around to catch a flash of red from his sister’s hair. “What?” He asked uncertainly.
“Lily. She can help us.”
“How, exactly?”
“The Thestrals. We can use the Thestrals, we can fly to the St. Mungos. And Lily can help us with finding them.”
Al bit his lip and looked away as he thought about it. Definitely faster and more hidden than brooms. It was risky, dangerous, but did they really have a better option?
The answer was no.
And was the risk worth it to be at Scorpius’ bedside?
Al was up on his feet and halfway across the Kitchens, marching up to the door, before he even realized it. Because yes, yes it fucking was.
“Come on.”
It was the middle of the night, so it was a bit difficult for them to get to the Ravenclaw common room without being caught by a teacher, prefect or Filch. But they managed, with the help of the Marauders Map (Al kept it on himself at every possible second of the day, even while sleeping), and their gut feelings.
“What has seas with no water, hills with no earth, and roads, that are never stepped on?”
Of course there was one last obstacle. The fucking doorknob.
Al, Rose and the doorknob stared at each other for a good five minutes before one of them decided to break the silence. It wasn’t the either teen.
“Are you going to say something or should I go back to resting?”
“Can we get another riddle?” Rose tried her chance.
“Is this your first day here girlie? Of course you can’t!”
“Wow, calm down, she was just asking.” Al defended his cousin. They were trying to get to his sister to ask her help with finding Thestrals so that they could sneak out of the school property without being caught, and visit their fatally injured friend at the hospital. And they were currently stuck dealing with a snarky, snippy, riddle-loving doorknob. Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Answer the riddle, or go back to your beds. What are you even doing here at this hour of the day?”
“Shut it, doorknob.” Al sassed, and began thinking. What has seas with no water, hills with no earth, and roads that are never stepped on?
“The moon?” Rose’s hesitant voice echoed in the empty corridor and Al grimaced, no way that was the answer.
“Wrong.”
Great, now they only had one guess. They were so fucked. Maybe if they knocked, someone would open. But no, everyone was asleep. Maybe during the daytime, someone would, but not at ass o’clock in the morning.
Al turned the riddle around in his head, but came up empty handed. Seriously, what could have seas with no water and hills with no earth? And roads never stepped on? How could a road be never stepped on? If it was new? Or, maybe… If it wasn’t actually a road. If it wasn’t real? But how could it be not real? No, not not-real. Maybe if it wasn’t actually there? Or if it was a picture? Or-
And the answer had literally been in his hands the entire time.
“A map.”
The door opened with a quiet click sound as soon as the answer left his lips, and Al smirked. The cousins smiled at each other with twin expressions of triumph, and entered the room.
Rose climbed the tower stairs quickly and quietly as Al waited on one of the couches, hoping that his cousin could convince his sister. Exactly seven minutes and twenty-three seconds later –Al would know, he had counted– the two redheads appeared.
“What is going on?” Lily asked, worry more visible on her face than the annoyance. Al threw Rose a look, you didn’t tell her?! it said. Rose answered with one of her own, how was I supposed to do so, in the middle of a room of light-sleeper teenage girls?!
Though it was up to Al how well he managed to interpret her expression. So, it was very possible that all he managed to get from it was angry-annoyed-nervous-do-it-yourself-you-selfish-lazy-bitch-ass.
“Guys.” Lily said, sharply this time, and Al knew that their time was coming to an end before Lily got too annoyed with them and left to go back to her bed or to go get a prefect.
“We need your help.” He rushed to explain.
“With what?”
“With finding some Thestrals.”
“Excuse me?” Al had never seen his sister’s face turn that incredulous that fast before.
“Thestrals.”
“Why?”
He threw Rose a panicked look, out of words despite having talked exactly nine of them. Rose sighed loudly and pushed him out of the way to have Lily’s full and undivided attention.
“Scorpius is at the St. Mungos. Some low-life fuckers were bullying him, and we ran into the situation. We tried to interfere, and we were pretty successful at doing so until Grayson lost his temper. He pushed Scorpius away; and caused him to trip, fall and hit his head. Madam Pomfrey admitted him to the St. Mungos, and no one will let us go see him. And we need to see him Lils, we really do. We- We-” Rose took a shaky breath. “Thestrals are our best option right now, and you are the go-to person when one talks of them. Please help us?”
Lily was silent for a whole minute, analyzing Rose’s words, before speaking up in the calmest –and therefor, the scariest– voice Al had ever heard from her. “Grayson? David or Mark?”
“Mark.” Al answered, knowing full well that denying his sister the answer she wanted right now, would be suicide. “Gryffindor, seventh year.”
“And the others?”
“Derek Jones, Gryffindor, seventh year. And Bailey Chase, Ravenclaw, sixth year.” Rose listed quickly.
“Bailey?” Lily asked, one carefully crafted, sharp eyebrow rising up.
“Yes.”
The other eyebrow also rose and Al saw the flash of a murderous rage in his sister’s eyes before it smoothed out to a blank expression. “Do you have the Map?” She asked calmly.
“Yes.”
“Okay. Come along.” And she started walking. Normally, if it were anyone else, Al would ask why they weren’t taking their coat. (If it was any other situation, he would probably also have a coat, along with Rose.) But that was Lily Potter, and she didn’t need a coat to shelter herself from the cold outside. The Charms Queen worked her magic, and even the older graders didn’t get cold walking by her side.
Silencing charms sneaked around their bodies and the sounds of their footsteps disappeared. Notice-Me-Nots wrapped around their trio, and Al put the Map back into his pocket, deciding that they didn’t need it anymore. Lily led them out of the castle and into the forest, following a seemingly used routine and only stopping by the kitchens to get some raw meat.
The thing that would cause the most problems in that situation, was running into a centaur. They could handle a teacher, a prefect, a wild animal, or even an Acromantula. But not a centaur.
So, Al knew that they were pretty damn lucky to not run into a single one while walking in a forest that was filled with them. And that it was probably not just luck. (But he didn’t want to ponder about what his sister’s relationship with the said centaurs could be that they didn’t care about it when she entered their forest unannounced and brought along her friends, he had bigger problems at the moment.)
She stopped at a random clearing and raised the bloody piece of meat into the air. Al and Rose both waited with bathed breath, until seeing the grass shifting in some kind of a pathway to them. The Thestral.
Lily met him halfway, and let him eat the meat out of her hands lovingly. Honestly, she was being more affectionate towards that invisible, bony, winged horse than she had been to James for the past couple years.
“Come close. Slowly.”
They did as they were instructed, while Lily petted the creature and slowly led him to sit down. Then she held out a half-bloody hand for Al to force himself into taking, and pulled him forwards. She maneuvered his body carefully, and soon enough the raven was on the Thestral’s back. It felt weird and uncomfortable, to be sitting on a creature made of bones; but Al kept his tongue.
Rose couldn’t though, and she whined ever so slightly when her cousin reached for her. Lily threw her a sharp look.
Rose gripped Al in an iron grip once she was seated fully behind him on the flying death-trap. Honestly why had they even decided that flying across the country on an invisible, death-related, bony, weird horse was a good idea?
Right. For Scorpius. Fuuuuuuck. She held on tighter and went ahead and made herself comfortable, she wasn’t going to chicken out.
Lily was still petting the Thestral, and slowly easing him to get up. Rose almost gave a shriek when they moved. “Quit it. You’re going to agitate him.” Her cousin ordered.
“Sorry.” She croaked.
Lily rolled her eyes and felt the creature’s head, finding his ears and moving to whisper in them. “St. Mungos Hospital, London.” Then she took a step back slowly. “The flight will probably take around three to four hours. Taking a nap could be a good idea, though only if you trust yourselves to produce strong enough magical ropes to hold you guys on a Thestral flying with full speed.” She spoke up. “Hold on tight, don’t fall to your deaths, and say hi to Scorpius from me when he wakes up.”
“Will do.” Al said, voice somewhat strained. Four hours on a flying horse. Oh boy. He had experience with Hippogriffs, but none of those flights had lasted more than five minutes, and at least he could see the Hippogriff he rode.
“Good luck.” The young redhead smiled at them.
“Thanks.” The older one answered, and the Thestral took off.