Slytherin Son

Setting: September 10–11, 2017

The whispers of Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy’s friendship seemed to circulate around the castle overnight and everyone knew by the break of dawn. There had been a predisposed expectation that they would be dramatic rivals at each other’s throats like their fathers but the boys quickly proved to be rather unlike their fathers, a shared sentiment that brought them closer. 

They were inseparable and not a moment went by where they were not joined at the hip; they sat together in every class and during meals in the Great Hall. Albus even endured hours in the library reading this or that under the watchful glares of Madam Pince just to remain alongside his bookish pal. They stayed awake until an ungodly hour just whispering from bed to bed until they fell asleep which was truly the only time they weren’t hanging off each other, but even then, their beds were just a few steps apart. 

The other students at Hogwarts came to a collective understanding of the young wizard; Harry Potter’s son who was a Slytherin and was far too close with the son of an awful pureblood death eater family which anyone could admit looked terrible from an outside perspective. Students whispered behind their hands when they saw him and called him names when the professors and prefects weren’t around. Traitor Potter was the most commonly uttered in the halls and a favourite of Polly Chapman’s colourful vocabulary surrounding him. McLaggen did try to get Anus Potter going but thankfully did not stick. 

On the morning of Sunday, the seventh day of September, and officially one week into his first Hogwarts term, hundreds of owls flocked down into the Great Hall with letters and parcels from the student’s families outside of Hogwarts. 

“Mum sent me chocolates,” Scorpius excitedly said with a fond smile as he unwrapped brown paper and opened a small silver tin labelled ‘Stars for my Scorpius’ in elegant handwriting. Inside the tin were assorted chocolates shaped like stars with ornate details; the sort of posh bonbons that old witches fancied. “Would you like one, Albus?” 

Albus peeked at them unsurely. They looked brilliant and he knew they would taste even better but they seemed too fancy for him. “Are you sure? Your mum got them for you,” 

“I promise they’re really nice,” Scorpius pressed on enthusiastically. “Mum wrote in her note that I share them to make friends. Mum makes them herself,” 

“Did she really?” Albus asked in impressed awe. “Is your mum a professional chocolatier?”

Scorpius smiled infectiously. “No, she’s just mum. Pick one,”

The tin was thrust under his nose and the smell of the homebaked rich chocolate melted through his nostrils that had never whiffed a more glorious scent. He meticulously selected a frosty white star. Scorpius nodded approvingly and picked out a black star with cherry shavings for himself. 

The chocolate melted thickly in his mouth and left his mouth salivating for another. He didn’t enjoy sweet things much at home, his mum said it wasn’t healthy, but his dad always snuck him a few sweets “Your mum is a brilliant witch,” he whispered dreamily. 

Just then, Albus caught sight of his own mum’s barred owl as it plunged headfirst to the Gryffindor table to drop a letter on his brother’s head. James had not spoken to him since boarding the Hogwarts Express at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, he hadn’t so much as glanced his way when they passed each other in the corridors. It was like he was pretending like he did not have a little brother. 

He sucked his breath into his chest as the owl zoomed headfirst towards the Slytherin table. The owl dropped an envelope in his porridge before darting away. He cautiously picked the soggy envelope out of his breakfast and unwrapped it, relieved that it was not a howler. 

Dear Al

We hope you’re well and settling nicely into Hogwarts and doing well in your classes. Did you get placed in Gryffindor? Lily misses you very much and has drawn a lovely picture on the back of the letter for you. Did you visit Hagrid for tea? Don’t worry if you haven’t made any friends yet, I’m sure all your classmates are nervous being so far from home. We love you very much. Write back soon. 

From mum and dad. 

PS: please don’t bicker with your brother. The last thing we want is to be called to the school by Headmistress McGonagall so soon in term. 

He flipped the letter around and there was indeed a colourful drawing of two stick figures riding unicorns in a field of flowers. He assumed the smaller stick figure with ridiculously long bright red hair was Lily and the slightly taller one with a scribble of black hair and dots of neon green for eyes was himself. He frowned, noticing the red and gold robe he was drawn to wear, and quickly folded the letter back over and put it aside. 

“Your parents?” Scorpius questioned. 

Albus only nodded as he finished his porridge. 

“Have you written them yet? I wrote to mother and father the evening we got here,”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “But it’s only been a week. I doubt James has written home yet either.”

“So they…they don’t know?” 

Albus did not respond and Scorpius shot him a sideways look that indicated that he should write to his parents. “I will,” you’re too scared, that’s why you’re not a Gryffindor. “I’ll tell them I’m a Slytherin and how Scorpius Malfoy is a brilliant friend,” his chest tightened at the way his friend’s eyes beamed. “I’ll write home tonight,” his throat tightened as if trying to stop the words from being spoken. 

His parents would find out eventually but Albus wouldn’t mind holding off that occasion for as long as he could. He had let his dad down and he couldn’t bear imagining how he would react. His dad would not be proud. He had one job and that was being the ideal Gryffindor son like his brother but Albus did the complete opposite. 

The entire school hawked at him like birdwatchers, none were worse than the Gryffindors who felt personally cheated and betrayed by his sorting. His dad was the Gryffindor of Gryffindors; he had even heard a ten foot painting of him was hung in Gryffindor Tower. He couldn’t even think about writing home without feeling sick imagining every outcome. 

Potters are not Slytherins. Pack your things, we’re dropping you off at the Leaky Cauldron. 

Scorpius nudged him in the ribs and gestured over to where Rose was trepidatiously walking over from the Gryffindor table. Her hair was in two uneven thick braids. She stood as close to the Slytherins as she could muster which still left quite a large gap between herself and him. “Would you like to join me for a game of chess in the library after breakfast?” she wrung her hands together nervously. “Just us,” 

Albus blinked having not expected the offer but smiled shyly, “Sure,” 

Rose beamed, “Great! I’ll meet you there!” and ran back to the Gryffindors. 

In the back of the library on the far right end, there was a small space dedicated to playing wizards chess. The scratch of moving pieces across the board was the only noise around other than the light squeaking of the librarian shoes as she prowled the isles menacingly, breathing down the necks of anyone she deemed disruptive to the quiet. 

Rose was a very tough chess appointment as she had inherited all of her father’s skills and learnt each of his manoeuvres. She won two games in a row but by the third game she began to struggle and her face had contorted into deep focus as they strenuously combatted each other. Rose did not mention what happened on the quidditch pitch but she seemed more quiet than usual; she did not even boast over any of her wins, just silently reset the board. 

Once two hours of silent chess had passed, she finally opened her mouth to ask, “What’s Malfoy like then? He can’t be half bad as people say if you like him so much,” 

Albus stilled at the unexpected question. “He’s…” he thought precisely on how to answer, “He’s nice,” 

“Nice?” Rose deadpanned flatly. 

Albus nodded carefully and gave her a funny look as he moved his bishop diagonally. 

“Yes, but there must be more to it,” her eyebrows were knitted together in a look reminiscent of Aunt Hermione. The question had clearly been nagging her for a while. 

“What are you going on about, Rose?”

She shot him an exasperated look. “You’re a Potter and he’s a Malfoy,”

“I’ve noticed,”

“There must be something big for you to get along,” 

“Not really,” he murmured as he ordered his queen forward. 

“There must be!”

“I like chocolate frogs and he does too,” he supposed. 

“Yes, but–”

Smirking, “Checkmate.” 

She gaped down at the chessboard and went a violent shade of red when she saw that he had indeed won. “I was distracted,” she stubbornly decided after a moment. 

Albus cocked his head on an angle as a smile played on his lips. “What? You can’t accept defeat, Rosie?” It was very amusing to watch her face turn even redder. “Too proud to accept I am the chessmaster!” he whisper-shouted. 

“Bloody bullshit,” she whispered back at him, parroting her dad’s words. “Rematch,”

They went on playing and bickering until the bell rang across the castle for lunch. Rose seemed pleased with her five wins whereas Albus only had two; he still considered those wins an accomplishment however as Rose was a very skilled chess player.

“There’s no good competition in Gryffindor Tower. None of the first years can sit a good match,” Rose remarked quietly. “How about we do this more? Perhaps on Sundays? I never see you much anymore unless we’re in class,” 

Albus smiled a bit. “Is it me you miss or chess?”

She giggled. “I do love a good game of chess,”

The two first years swung their bags over their shoulders and left the library side by side. Albus felt his thoughts drift to Scorpius, wondering what he had been doing in the time between breakfast and lunch; they had not been apart that long since the sorting. 

“I’ll see you around,” Rose said, slinging her arm around him for a quick hug as they entered the Great Hall. “Bye,” 

“Bye,” he said and watched as she walked off towards the Gryffindor table. Amongst the students he spotted James, lounging with his feet propped up on the table. An idea popped into his head. “Rose, wait!” he called at the last moment. 

She turned back around expectantly. “Yes?”

“Have you talked to James at all?”

She paused, opening and closing her mouth before saying, “Uh, a bit, sure,”

“Has he said anything about me?”

Rose crossed her arms. “Why?”

Albus swallowed thickly. “No reason,” She narrowed her brown eyes which seemed to darken with suspicion. “It’s just–he hasn’t…” he sighed. “Well, he’s been acting like I don’t even exist since I was sorted into Slytherin,” 

Rose said nothing for a long moment. “He knows you exist,” 

“I know that,” Albus grumbled. “Everyone in the bloody castle knows I exist. He’s going out of his way to act like I don’t exist.” 

Rose looked over her shoulder at the Gryffindor table for a second then sighed. “Well you can’t blame him,” 

“Can’t I?” He deadpanned stoically. 

“Have you even tried to talk to him?”

“No,” he did not have the courage to go near his brother on purpose. James was the brave Gryffindor and the oldest, therefore it should be him to initiate some sort of talk. In a low voice, not quite a whisper, he asked, “Does he know… about the names?” 

Rose looked particularly depressed as she repeatedly opened and shut her mouth. 

“Rose?” Albus questioned flatly, heart dropping at the silence. 

“I am sorry, Al,” she sighed after a moment. “James actually came up with… Traitor Potter in the common room the first evening we got here,”

Albus felt his eyes prickle wetly as a sickness crept up his throat.

“You can’t blame him!” Rose said defensively. “He’s just shocked. We all are,” 

He turned on his heel and ran out of the Great Hall. He ducked into the boys’ lavatory where Rose could not follow him and locked himself in a stall. He just stood there for a few seconds, in the middle of the stall, staring blankly ahead. It was quiet, just the sound of his heart thumping hot in his ears. Then, he slid down onto the cold tiles and sobbed unashamedly into his hands. 

His own brother thought he was a traitor, a slimy traitor, and was the ringmaster behind the names. James didn’t even have the decency to call him traitor to his face, so much for Gryffindor bravery. He wiped his snotty nose with the sleeve of his robes and held his knees tightly to his chest as the tears bucketed down his cheeks. 

He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be on the damp floor of a smelly toilet stall. He wanted the toilet at home that hadn’t been sat on by hundreds of strangers. He wanted his bedroom back and his familiar knitted quilt, not the too-thin silk sheets in his dormitory that felt like the deepest and coldest depths of the sea spilling over him. He wanted to crawl in between his parents in bed. He wanted his dad. 

Rose was the only one who had come near him since the sorting, he realised, eyes getting wide. It wasn’t just James but all of his cousins. They were avoiding him. He was not very close with them as they were older, so he had not thought about them; it had not occurred to him that they were even amongst the students walking the very halls as him, listening to the names made up about him. . .but they were.

He heard the tap tap of footsteps enter the lavatory. He pulled at his raven hair frustratedly. He wanted to hurry up and learn hexes to use on James so he could prove that he shouldn’t be messed with or laughed at. 

Knock

Knock

Albus became incredibly still and hushed his cries. The knocking was on his stall even though there were at least ten empty stalls. He scrambled to his feet and backed against the wall. Rose was a girl so couldn’t have chased him inside the lavatory. Had Scorpius come to find him? His heart skipped panickedly as he considered it was James, or worse, James and his mates. 

Wiping his blurry wetness from his eyes, he could see the shadow of a wizard through the crack up the stall door, a very tall figure which meant it couldn’t be Rose or James or even Scorpius who was the tallest in the year. In fact, the figure was taller than his dad which meant the wizard had to be an adult, there were no adult students, which meant it had to be a professor. 

His breath caught in his throat. What had he done to get into trouble so soon in the term? 

“Albus?” the mellow familiarity of his godfather called out. “Are you in there?”

Albus breathed out relieved but did not move to open the stall. He felt frozen on the spot, cheeks wet and blood rushing. 

“Albus?” His godfather called out again. “Is it you in there? Rose is very worried about you.” receiving no response, he added, “You’re not in trouble,” 

The boy pushed the stall door open a nudge and it creaked much too loudly in the empty lavatory. He kept his head low as his godfather opened it all the way and took in the sight of him. Kneeling down on the tiles to be at his height, Neville gripped his shoulders and brought him close. “What is the matter, child?” Albus just held his arm tight and said nothing. Patting his raven hair, his godfather said, “How about we go for a cuppa in my office?” 

Albus followed like a sunken shadow behind the Deputy Headmaster across the castle, ignoring the whispers that followed suspecting him to be in trouble. His office was on the first floor towards the back of the castle where the greenhouses were situated, down an open corridor overlooking the enclosed courtyard where sunlight shone inside. His godfather opened the door with a push and allowed for Albus to step inside before him. 

The office was spacious and rays of golden sunlight shone in through the open windows. All sorts of plants, common muggle and rare magical alike, were scattered on every shelf and hanging from every crevice. Across one wall, bore a massive crimson tapestry of Godric Gryffindor with fiery lions dancing all around him. 

Albus cautiously approached a tittering nest held up by golden chains in a snug sunny corner. Inside were small green beings shaped like twig cuttings. “Are these bowtruckles?” he asked, looking over his shoulder with a brief smile. His mood temporarily lightened as the little beings gawked up at him curiously. 

“Indeed they are,” said Neville pleasantly. “Come now, have a seat while I make the tea. Three cubes of sugar, no milk as always?”

“Yes please,” he replied, sinking into the cushions of a plump red sofa. 

His godfather poured two saucers of tea, placed one saucer in his shaky hands then sat across from him in an upholstered red seat. Man and child sipped their tea quietly. Albus peeked at his godfather over the rim of the teacup, looking down when his deep brown eyes met his green. 

“You want to know what’s wrong,” Albus said bluntly. “Don’t you?” 

“Well, let’s say I didn’t just invite you to my office for tea–not that I mind,” His godfather chuckled. “You do not have to tell me what the matter is, however I would like to know in what way I could offer you my help,” 

“I want to go home,” 

His godfather’s eyes softened sympathetically. “You are certainly not the only first year to make such a request in their first nights at Hogwarts and I do not doubt you will be the last. I myself begged Headmistress McGonagall to be taken home every evening for three weeks in my first year but she insisted once I pushed through a few more nights I would have the courage to remain at the castle, and as always, she was correct,” 

“But I’m not courageous,” he sniffed. 

Neville hummed shortly. “May I ask why you want to go home?” 

Albus felt his bottom lip quiver. He stared into the pool of black tea in his saucer, watching the tea leaves spin about in the middle. “James,” 

“Is he giving you a bad time–about your sorting?” His voice was sterner than usual.

“He–He–There have been…” sighing, he looked back up at his godfather’s warm face. “It’s not just James but all the Gryffindors. They’re really upset with me for not being a Gryffindor–calling me names.”

Neville set his teacup aside and his smile straightened into a thin line. “I couldn’t be more disappointed in my lions, as the Head of Gryffindor, I always set a thorough example that bullying is abominable. If you can tell me any names–” 

“James started it,” he whispered. 

There was something very melancholic about the pause between them. “Should it be in your best interest if I wrote to inform your parents of his behaviour? Perhaps this might be something best suited to your parents' instruction?” 

“No,” he said quickly, too quickly. “I haven’t told them yet,” he sunk backwards into the sofa and felt his eyes welling up. “I let them down,” his voice scratched and that’s all it took for the tears to spill over.

His godfather’s eyes softened at once and he leaned over to touch his shoulder. “You did not let anyone down, child,” smiling morosely, he continued, “You do not owe predispositions to anyone. What should you have done? Paraded as a lion? No. I think it takes great courage to accept yourself for what you are. If you are a Slytherin, what can anyone say to that? I for one am very proud of you, Albus,”

“It’s not bravery,” He said miserably, wiping his eyes. “The Sorting Hat said Slytherin House would give me potential and power. It gave me a choice and I chose Slytherin because–well because I wanted to be the best,”

There was a heartbeat of silence. “Slytherin House won’t give you potential, it’s because you already have potential that you were sorted there.” 

Albus hiccuped pathetically as he nodded. “Okay,” 

“James will come around,” he assured him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He’s a hotheaded boy but he has a heart of gold–as do you,”

“But what if he doesn’t?” He dared ask. 

“Sometimes that’s just the way things go.” His godfather breathed deeply. “But there shall always be a new light to replace the old,” 

The tears did not cease but became less sad. “Thank you,” 

He settled back into his seat, spacing a gap between them. “It takes great courage to be yourself, you will need that courage more than ever–though I suppose courage might not be the correct terminology–how’s determination? Determination to persist and shine truly you.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my godfather,” but he had a faint smile on his face. 

“That I am,” Neville replied amusedly, also smiling. “I made a promise when I became your godfather, Albus, that very first time your mum and dad placed you in my arms when you were just the size of a niffler. It’s my job to look after you, to always be there for you. I am proud that you’re a Slytherin and I would be just as proud should you have been in any other House. It’s my duty to love and guide you and that is exactly what I shall do because that is what I swore when you were a baby,” 

Albus could only smile as his salty tears trickled over his lips. 

“I did not have an easy time in Hogwarts either,” His godfather sighed. “I was shy and lonely and frightened. The other children did not take kindly to me, the Scared Gryffindor. It took until the seventh year for the others to really see me as a real Gryffindor but it had always been there–in my heart. I came around–came out of my shell with time–reflecting on the outside the wizard I had always been on the inside, and so shall you–in patient time,”

Albus gave up on his attempts to push back his tears. His godfather got up and sat next to him on the sofa, holding him against his chest and patting his raven hair. Albus wrapped his arms tightly around his torso, tears wetting his godfather’s woolly jumper. 

There was a nervous knocking at the door. Albus wiped his cheeks and sat up straight as his godfather stood up to receive the visitor. “Albus? Your friend is worried about you,” 

Albus jumped to his feet and ran to the door, ducking under his godfather’s arm. “Scorpius?” He hugged him at once and the startled boy hugged him back, getting a bit more used to the concept of hugging. 

“Our second hug,” he giggled when they broke apart. “Rose told me you might be here,” 

“Did she?” Albus frowned curiously. Didn’t Rose dislike Scorpius? Why would she reach out to let him know what was happening? It did not make much sense at all. 

Scorpius nodded, an equally perplexed look on his face. “I know,” he said as if reading his mind. “I cannot tell for the life of me if she dislikes or likes me,”

Albus shook his head. “Girls. I’ll never understand them,” 

Scorpius nodded along very seriously. 

Behind him, Professor Longbottom chuckled strangely. The boys looked at him surprised, having forgotten of the professor’s presence. “Might you introduce me to your friend, Albus? Though I must say, that particular colour of hair leaves a small pool of guesses as to who you might be,”

“Scorpius Malfoy,” Albus said. 

There was a very brief paleness of surprise that crossed his godfather’s face but it was gone as quickly as it arrived. “Very nice to meet you, young one,” and he reached out and shook the young wizard's hand warmly. 

That evening when the boys returned to their dormitories, Albus found a bright green potted plant on his bedside table; a small green thing that danced from side to side–like seaweed in sea. He pulled the attached note from under the pot and read it. 

Albus 

I requested Professor Nightingale deliver this to you. I do hope this reaches you in one piece.

This is a baby dingyweed and I believe you should have the honours of looking after this fella. They thrive in dingy environments hence the name so I thought it suitable to live in the dungeons. 

Always, 

Your godfather. 

Albus and Scorpius curled up together in front of a crackling fireplace in the common room with a blanket shared between them for warmth. The prefects said winter had come early with a snowstorm that chilled even the deepest crevice of the castle. Albus was slumped forward, resting his chin on his knees. Scorpius kept his legs folded beneath him, his straight posture making Albus seem much shorter in comparison. 

The other first years were laughing over a game of gobstones on the other side of the common room. They had not invited Albus or Scorpius to join them. How could the others accept him as a Slytherin if he hadn’t even accepted being a Slytherin himself?

“Why don’t they like me?” Albus asked. The rest of the school disliked him for being a Slytherin but it wouldn’t make sense for his fellow snakes to dislike him for that reason. 

“They don’t have a reason to like you,” Scorpius replied cleverly. 

“Why?” He asked. Scorpius always seemed to have the right answers in classes so this was no different. 

“Your father is Harry Potter,” Scorpius stated. “Did you know he’s broken ministry records with how many dark wizards he’s caught?” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Albus asked, frowning deeply. 

Scorpius tilted his head unsurely, if not uncomfortably. “Well,” he began, slowly considering his words. “A lot of Slytherins are dark wizards, like you said on the train,”

Albus stared at him blankly, not quite grasping what he was trying to put across.

“A lot of Slytherins relatives are dark wizards. Your father arrests a lot of dark wizards,”

And then he understood. “Oh,” 

And then the two boys looked away from each other and into the fireplace. Albus couldn’t understand the sinking feeling that crept down his spine. If his housemates came from such criminal families then perhaps being their friend did not matter–but no, sitting next to him, shoulders brushing, was his best friend who happened to come from the most notoriously dark family in Great Britain. Dark wizards deserved to be arrested and sentenced to Azkaban but something had shifted within him as he realised even dark wizards had families and loved ones. He knew he shouldn’t feel bad for criminals but his parents did always say everyone bleeds the same.

It was his dad’s heroics that made him popular to the rest of the school but unpopular in the one place where he was stuck. Albus didn’t arrest anyone so it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t be upset with his dad about doing his job and protecting innocent witches and wizards, but very deep down, he blamed his dad for causing him to be unlikeable. 

“Is it possible to be a Potter and a Slytherin at the same time?” Albus whispered, speaking his thoughts aloud. 

“No one has tried.” 

He hugged his knees close to his chest and laid his head down. “Scorpius?” 

“Oui?” His face turned, hair shining golden in the light of the fire. 

“I’m not my father,” It had been a mere thought that he hadn’t intended to say out loud. Albus never usually told anyone his deepest thoughts but that was just something that came naturally with Scorpius. 

Scorpius did not even blink. “Je ne suis pas mon papa,” 

“Je ne suis pas mon papa,” I am not my father. 

The students rushed outside the following morning to enjoy the overnight snowfall. The matron Poppy Pomfrey fretted on every student as they bounded down the steps outside, insisting they rug up with gloves and a nice wool scarf. She gave a satisfied nod when she saw Albus in long trousers, a thick grey jumper and matching grey woollen gloves. Scorpius wore wizards robes even on weekends which was curious, but on top he wore a thick black cloak that engulfed him like a blanket. 

Rose ran over with a giddy smile, hand-in-hand with a small brown girl. “Albus! Al! Al!” She called out. “The Black Lake has frozen over! Everyone is down there! Me and Susie are going there now! Come on!” when the boys didn’t immediately chase behind her, she added, “Both of you! Let’s go!”

The lake was marvellous, frozen over and shimmering with the glow of the chilly morning sunlight. The students around them were throwing snowballs around and daring each other to walk on the ice. Rose took one tentative step onto the ice then said, “We should hold hands in case we fall through,” 

“In case we what ?” Scorpius gulped. His grey eyes were shining scaredly. 

Rose did not seem afraid at all as she stepped in a circle. “Well, you know, the ice might crack under our weight,”

The boys shared a hasty frightened look. “We don’t have to go on the lake,” Albus chimed in casually. 

“It’s just ice,” Scorpius added, nodding along aggressively as he whispered, whispering frantically in French under his breath.

“You’re not scaredy-cats, right?” she asked exasperatedly, sharing a giggle with Susie. The boys straightened up at once at the accusation of being scaredy-cats. Albus gulped and began stepping closer to the ice but his cousin raised her hand to stop him. “Actually,” she began. “I was thinking that maybe you could hold hands with Susie and Malfoy you can hold my hand,”

The boys stilled and shared a perplexed mutual look of confusion. Albus frowned as he glanced back at Susie Patil who was watching him with big brown eyes full of something intense. “Uh?” he looked back at Rose who was waiting expectantly for them to hold hands. “Okay,” he slowly said, offering his hand out for the Gryffindor girl who breathlessly took his hand in her own slightly smaller hand. 

Scorpius stepped over to Rose and offered his hand with the grace of a fairytale prince. Rose halted for a moment but then quickly took his hand and led him out onto the ice with her. Albus narrowed his eyes as the pair ventured further and further away. His chest was starting to burn like it did when he was worried which made no sense as his next actions came from a pale of rare courage. He took one sturdy step on the ice, girl in hand, followed by ten very quick steps across the ice to catch up with his friend and cousin. 

Scorpius looked catatonic in fear as he stared down at the ice holding his weight up. Rose abruptly pulled him further along the ice and his legs buckled and started slipping on the ice. Albus was by his side in a second, holding both of his hands tightly to keep him upright. 

“Merci,” Thankyou. Scorpius whispered as he steadied himself. 

“C’est bon,” It’s okay. He replied in a heartbeat without realising that he had instinctively understood what his friend had said in another language and even instinctively answered him. He felt giddy with pride in the seconds afterwards when it hit him. 

“What?” Rose asked lamely. She was not very used to being the unaware one.

Albus looked over his shoulder at the girls then down at their empty hands. He had not remembered himself nor Scorpius letting go of their hands in his haste to rescue his friend. He slowly looked down at his own hands interlocked with Scorpius’s own. His fingers were milky pale and longer than his own and his pale was warm and so very soft. It thought it was much different to holding hands with a girl and wearily let go. 

The boys deserted the girls when they started making plans to run out to the middle of the frozen over lake and test the sturdiness by jumping. Albus felt content knowing Scorpius was just as much a scaredy-cat as himself. For a while, they just walked around the Black Lake but soon ventured further into the grounds away from everyone else. They stood at the cusp of the Forbidden Forest staring up at the treetops that seemed as tall as the clouds but dared not step a foot beyond. 

They sat down in the snow beneath the branches of a large spindly tree and put their wands between them. Albus examined the differences, his own wand was ashy pale made of white aspen wood and thirteen inches which contrasted drastically in comparison with Scorpius’s wand which was midnight black and almost half the size. 

“What sort of wand is yours?” Albus implored. 

“Pine wood. Thestral core,” said Scorpius off the top of his head. “Et toi?” And you? 

Albus took a second to translate what was asked but quickly answered, “Aspen wood and dragon heartstring core,” 

He picked it up the intricate silver handle and traced his fingers along the black thorns that pricked anyone who unrightfully wielded his wand, which James happened to learn the hard way. It was as long as his arm which he had been embarrassed about when he first walked out of the wand shop until his mum promised he would grow into it. He quite liked his wand and the way it made his blood warm whenever he casted a spell.

Scorpius smiled as he laid down in the snow. “I got mine in Paris,” 

Albus leaned back in the snow on his elbows. “I’ve never left Britain,”

“That’s terrible,” He whispered as if he had announced he was succumbing to an incurable disease. 

“I see family in Cornwall,” he lamely added. “And I’ve been to Devon once or twice,”

Scorpius stared at him in bewilderment. “That’s very pathetic, sorry,”

“I know,” Albus sighed and he dropped completely into the snow below him. He had never cared or even given thought to travelling to extoic far off lands until then. “What’s Paris like?”

“Lovely,” said Scorpius. “I do prefer our home in the south of France though—less pigeons. My grandfather taught me some spells last time I was there,” 

Albus very quickly sat up and gaped at Scorpius. “I wasn’t even allowed to get my wand until September and I was forbidden from casting magic until I got to Hogwarts!” 

Scorpius giggled. “France allows underage wizardry of school children. I couldn’t do magic for months when we got back to Wiltshire. It was very frustrating. There was so much magic I wanted to try but I couldn’t,” 

Scorpius picked up his wand and pointed it up at the barren branches above them and murmured a soft spell. Albus couldn’t help but watch with a fascinated smile as the trunk of the tree seemed to stretch taller, thick shrubs of green leaves blossomed from the branches and pinecones unshrunk from the depths of the wood. The snow began to build up on the leaves that weren’t there previously. 

“That was… magical , Scorpius,” he breathed out for lack of a better word. He collapsed back into the snow and watched as the snow started turning to green leaves white. 

Scorpius flushed a very rosy shade of red. “Merci, merci,” he giggled. 

Albus watched the thick clouds above him warp and dance around the sky. He could hear only small breaths in sync with the boy next to him and the singing songbirds in the treetops. He felt perfectly content in those few moments. He felt like he could stay there forever even if the snow burnt into the gaps between his pants and shoes icily and stuck into his raven hair. It did not matter; the ground could swallow him up for all he cared. 

“Well, well, well,” and the winter wind around him seemed to become inexplicably colder. “If it isn’t my one and only baby brother,” in fact, the wind and oxygen around him vanished entirely. 

Albus shared a daunting look with Scorpius. He laid still for a few long seconds hoping he had been hearing things but the footsteps crunching in the snow were getting closer and closer–and louder as they crunched in the snow. He scrambled onto his feet and stared imposingly at the nearing sight of his brother–he was not alone either. Freddy was swaggering just two steps behind. Partners in crime. Bringing pride to their namesakes. 

James had a lopsided smile on his face that belonged to James and him only. He even practised it in the mirror each morning after his extensive hair routine. James claimed his smile was his most charming feature however Albus thought it was his only charming feature. He stopped abruptly just inches away from him, a good foot taller with broadened shoulders that made their age gap seem more significant than a measly year and a half. 

“What?” Albus asked tonelessly. 

James blinked and his smile faltered. “Rude,” 

Albus narrowed his eyes. “James,” 

“How sweet. You remember my name?” 

Of all the things his moronic brother could say to upset him, somehow he hit the target on the first try. That was the thing about James, he just knew exactly what to say and do to really get beneath his skin. He felt his sight turn red with fury. “You don’t remember mine,” 

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Good laugh,”

Albus said nothing because what was there to say? What was there to even think about that. He felt a tight tug below his sternum, his eyes welling wetly, but he refused to cry. “It wasn’t a good laugh,” he snapped.

“Godric,” James laughed. “You’re such a sourpuss, Asp,”

Albus blinked his tears away fiercely. “That’s not my name,” An asp was a breed of snake and also each of his initials put together. 

“Sounds about right to me,” James huffed. “Doesn’t it, Freddy?” The pair had always been more like brothers than cousins. 

“He is a snake after all, Jamie,” Freddy replied. Even their nicknames rhymed. 

“I have a list of other names if you don’t fancy that one,” James stupidly laughed with that stupid older brother sparkle in his stupid eyes.  

“Sod off,” he grumbled, well aware of the list of mean names his brother had. He opened his mouth then snapped it shut having forgotten his mother was not around to tell James off. 

James absentmindedly flicked his wand between his fingers. Albus knew he would drop his wand if he tried to do it. “Y’know Professor Patil, the sexy one?”

No, Albus did not know her at all but he had heard an earful from his brother about her ever since he got back from his first year. He even chose Divination as one of his electives just to be in the same classroom as her. He asked for tarot cards for Christmas and everything so he could impress her when term started. 

“What about her?” Albus asked, resisting rolling his eyes. Had his brother seriously sought him out just to let him in on some new fantasy he dreamt up about his favourite Professor? 

“She’s been telling us about self-fulfilling prophecies this week and we’ve got to write two metres on it by next Friday,” 

Albus stared at him blankly. “Okay?” Had his brother finally come to his senses that Professor Patil was indeed a grown-up teacher who assigned homework and not just some bird? 

James missed his lack of enthusiasm and continued, “I want her to see me as a real-good student. I want her to make a little desk for me right next to hers and go on about me in staff meetings.” he had a dazed dreamy look to his brown eyes. He was in love with a teacher. “This is our first paper and I want to stand out.” behind him, Freddy snorted into his hand. “I think your name is a brilliant example of a self-fulfilling prophecy, don’t chu’ think? I’d be top of the class for sure if I wrote about you, Asp, how you came into this world destined to be a slimy backstabbing snake git,” 

James wasn’t laughing nor was he smiling. Albus felt his heart drop into his stomach like a heavy sack of rocks. James was always smiling, even when he was annoyed, even when he was angry, but he was not smiling. His heart started beating against his chest and up his throat. Why aren’t you smiling? He wanted to scream the question but it sounded stupid in his own mind. 

His breath caught in his throat. He could hear the pathetic huffs of his lungs echoing in his head. He noticed a halo of white hair appear behind him and took a sudden three steps back to hide besides Scorpius. 

“Who’s your friend, Asp?” James asked—no, he demanded. 

Albus winced at his tone. He did not know what to do or how to act. He knew how to handle a smiling and annoying James but this side of him—the unsmiling side of him. He had never seen his eyes so flat and regular on his face instead of thinned from a grin.

“What?” He breathed. 

James hardened his expectant stare. “I said, who is your friend?” 

Albus thoughtlessly stepped closer to Scorpius until their shoulders were pressed together. He felt an invisible hand over his mouth suffocating him and refusing him to speak. Hogwarts was a worse rumour mill than Witch Weekly and there was nothing his brother loved more than some good gossip. James knew who his friend was and he was furious. 

Albus turned subtly to be able to look at Scorpius who was staring between James and Freddy. His grey eyes were no longer sparkling, rubbed down with sandpaper and wide with worry. “Go away, James,” Albus said without taking his eyes off the blond wizard. 

“Asp–”

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Have it your way, Anus Potter,” James mocked. “Now, why don’t we get familiar with one another? That’s the polite thing to do, isn’t it? Dad would be proud. I’ve got to say I’m surprised you even made a friend,”

He, as always, said the exact right thing to get beneath his skin. Albus didn’t have time to think of something clever to retort before Scorpius whispered, “Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy.” his voice was heavy and somehow held an echo. He did not offer a hand to shake. 

James barked an uneasy laugh and stepped in a wonky circle. “So it’s true then? You’re actually– actually friends with Draco Malfoy’s sprog?” He stepped back over but this time stopped directly in front of Scorpius and it became apparent that they were the same height. James puffed his chest to stand above him and eyed him down like a lion observing his prey. 

“We met on the Hogwarts Express,” Albus answered, avoiding making eye contact.

James inhaled briskly as he spun around and aimed a hard kick into the snow. “Fuck!”

Albus did not gasp but his mouth did fall open in surprise. James would be grounded for thirty years if he dared say that word at home. But they were not at home anymore, were they? Things at Hogwarts were much different without his mum and dad around and he was only just beginning to realise that. James could do whatever he wanted without their mum and dad around to tell him off, “Piss off, James,” so it was only fair that Albus could do so too. 

James pressed his wand under his chin. He didn’t even notice him pulling it out. He must have already had it out. He did not recall him holding it when he first walked over. His skin crawled with the realisation that he took it out when he was eyeing down Scorpius. He felt an awful feeling tug at his heart. James did not come to fight him , he came to fight Scorpius. 

Scorpius did not deserve to be held at wandpoint for his unsavoury choice to be his friend. He didn’t deserve to be hurt. Scorpius would see that he was not worth being friends with and stop talking to him. He would pretend he didn’t exist like his brother and cousins had done when they themselves realised he was just a slimy git.  

“Back off, James,” Albus hissed. “Don’t touch him. Scorpius did nothing.” 

He held on to his own wand tightly but blanched upon realising he did not know any spells to fight his brother with. He adjusted his wand in his clammy palm nervously. He wished he read as much as Scorpius who would definitely know a couple handy spells but it wasn’t like he could casually ask with James’s wand digging a tunnel under his jaw. 

And as if James could read his mind, he asked, “Can you even use that wand yet, Asp?”

“I can,” he lied through his teeth. “Unlike you, I actually visit the castle library sometimes,” which was true, however the books he fancied in the library were not usually spellbooks but fictional tales. 

“I don’t want to hex you–”

“No, but you want to hex my friend and I won’t let you!” 

Albus felt Scorpius tug roughly on his forearm and went stumbling backwards into the pine tree they had previously been lying beneath—he did not question how in those seconds. His head banged against the bark and his sight blurred on a sideways angle. He had always suspected it but neither brother had ever outright said it.  The underside of his jaw throbbed and burned when he dryly swallowed. The wind brushed against his face colder than it had been before, he lifted his hand to his cheeks and saw glistening tears on his fingertips. 

“Have you firsties even learned any real spells yet?” James chuckled from what felt like the other side of the castle. “You gonna cast a lumos at me?” and this time Freddy joined in with the faraway laughter until it abruptly stopped, replaced by silence, like the air had been sucked out of the world around them.

Albus stood supporting his weight against the pine tree and his focus returned sharply as he laid eyes on the scene unfolding before him. Freddy was a distance away from them on the lookout for prefects and professors. James had his wand aimed at Scorpius who in return pointed his own back. He held his wand with the same confidence however a first year was no match against a third year—especially his prankster brother who had a far too reactive arsenal of charms. 

“Scorpius!” He pushed himself off the trunk and rushed forward with his wand high. He ignored Freddy warning him to stay back. “I told you not to—Put your wand—WAND DOWN! James!” 

“He wants to hex me!” James exclaimed. His grip around his wand was tight enough to snap it and he looked pale too–gulping. Albus thought that he might have imagined it. He must have hit his head when he fell into the tree because James Sirius Potter was never nervous . “He wants to cast dark magic on me!” 

Albus faltered. Dark magic? That was nonsense. Scorpius was not a dark wizard; he was too good and clever and beautiful to be a dark wizard. He’s a Malfoy. No. He refused to believe it. His grandfather taught him spells over the holidays, it didn’t seem sinister to Albus, not until he remembered Lucius Malfoy was a death eater. What sort of spells do death eaters like?  

“Because you want to hex him!” Albus snapped. “Your wand’s in his face! Scorpius–your wand–put it down–James–then James–your wand–DOWN.” and he was surprised when both boys actually did as they were instructed—no matter how reluctantly. “Leave us, James,” 

James stepped back then turned to him—panting. "I heard you screamed at Hagrid, he's scared of you, did you know? It’s bad enough that you’re a Slytherin but stay away from the bad sort."

The bad sort? He didn't mean to scare Hagrid. . .and Scorpius was nothing but goodness, shining silver goodness, sparkling like the sea, bright like the depths of his eyes. He turned to Scorpius and caught his eyes, confirming his thoughts in a wave of grand silver. “No.” he murmured, eyes locked on Scorpius. “No.” he repeated, more surely, giving James a defiant look. 

“Then you’re just as bad as he is—and all the other scum dark wizards in the dungeons!” James scowled at him. “What were you even doing all the way down here? Testing dark curses on unicorns?” 

“Go away.” 

James stomped away—a full three steps—but then turned back around stubbornly. “I’m only trying to look out for you. I’ve had this feeling–this sickening gut feeling ever since the Sorting Ceremony—as if I’m a prophet. Next thing, I hear that Chapman chick going on about you and Malfoy ganging up and it all made sense! He’s no good. I’m only trying to look after you. I’m your brother, it’s my job to look out for you.” 

Since when did James care about being brothers? He always pretended Albus didn’t exist and when he wasn’t ignoring him then he was teasing him or trying to get him into trouble. He loved bullying him and now he had come to take away his only friend. Scorpius was right, nobody wanted them to be friends. 

“I wish I wasn’t your brother!” His heart dropped when he heard those words and he felt sick. He frowned at the look on his brother’s face—the surprise. It took a few seconds to catch up with him that it had indeed been himself who shouted it. Did his brother’s chest burn as much as his own did?

James stood there unmoving, catching snowflakes in his brown hair. He nodded, as if he wasn't perturbed, and he swallowed. “You’re the worst brother ever. I wish you were never born. Anything would have been better than a baby dark wizard for a baby brother.” Then he scoffed and laughed dryly. “Wow. You really are a Slytherin, aren’t you?” He turned on his heel at once and stomped away from the pine tree. “Let's go, Freddy.” 

Albus immediately turned to Scorpius to apologise but a electric purple flash hurled into his chest before he had the chance to speak and Scorpius slumped down into the snow like a jointless flobberworm.