Slytherin Son

“Mr Potter, I must insist you get some dinner in the Great Hall while you still have time.” Madam Pomfrey instructed curtly from behind the white infirmary curtain. 

“I’m not hungry.” said Albus mellowly from where he sat by Scorpius’s bedside. 

Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue. “You refused lunch too.” she reminded him as she rummaged through her potions stock. “You must have dinner.” 

“Scorpius won’t be having dinner.”

The matron sighed sympathetically as she pocketed a vial and shut the cabinet. She approached the bedside with long strides and carefully bent each of his fingers. “He is recovering well. He will be in ship shape by morning.” 

His joints and knuckles had been hexed away leaving him no more than a wobbly flobberworm. He had been administered Skele-Gro to regrow his bones and a draught of dreamless sleep to keep him painlessly asleep as his bones mended. 

Albus brought his feet off the floor and held his knees tightly to his chest. “Can I stay here with him? What if he wakes up all alone in the dark and gets scared?”

“I shall be here all night should Me Malfoy awake and require assistance,” she told him. “However, he will remain asleep until the jinx subsides. He shall appreciate your concern in the morning. Let him sleep.” 

Albus stared longingly at Scorpius who was curled up beneath the white infirmary sheets with just wisps of white hair sticking out. He pondered whether his concern would indeed be appreciated or if Scorpius would even still want to be his friend? It was his fault after all that he was stuck in the infirmary. He never would have been hexed by James if they weren’t friends. 

“Please madam. I won’t make a sound.” 

“Mr Potter—”

“It should be me in bed. I’m the one who deserves it. It’s my fault he’s here. I’m an awful friend.” his sight blurred wetly but he swallowed down his tears. If  being at Hogwarts had taught him one thing so far, it was that crying could not help him.

“You did not jinx him, Mr Potter.” She said morosely. “As for the matter of friendship, you brought him all the way here and haven’t left his bedside since. You obviously care a striking amount for this boy and he knows it.”

“But—”

Madam Pomfrey didn’t care for his rebuff and handed him a small vial. “Take this, Mr Potter. All of it.”

Albus inspected the vial in his palm and read the cursive script that labelled it as a calming draught. He uncorked the top and brought it to his nose to smell, recoiling at the odour. He pinched his nose and with a nod from the matron, he shot it into the back of his throat and swallowed it all in one go. The taste wasn’t as bad as the scent and it went down his throat smoothly. 

The effect was instantaneous and he let out a long shuddering breath that he had been holding in his lungs. His jaw clenched and he fell back into the chair instead of practically vibrating on the edge. He looked at Scorpius, his heart rushed but not in the anxious way it had previously. 

Madam Pomfrey patted him twice on the shoulder then stalked away to another patient. “You can remain here until eight o’clock but then you must return to the dungeons. I will write a note in case a prefect should question you for wandering the halls past curfew.”

“Thank you, madam.”

Albus took small steps down into the dungeons as he recalled the unfortunate events of the day. His stomach was tied in a knot–getting tighter and tighter. The flash of purple was so ingrained in his head that he saw a blob of purple appear in his vision as he stalked through the catacombs of the dungeons. It wasn’t all awful, he reminded himself. The pine tree blossomed in his thoughts and he felt a warmth spread from his ears to his fingertips. That had been good, or as Scorpius would say, bon. 

A small smile slipped onto his face thinking about his day but it fell off his face when he stepped into the ominously quiet and empty dormitory. He dressed into his sleepwear and ritualistically went about his bathroom duties. He settled at the foot of his bed on the hard floor with a parchment, quill and a bit of ink. He stared a hole through the bare parchment and could feel an oncoming headache. He had promised Scorpius he would write a letter to his parents and tell them everything over breakfast, though it felt like days ago now. He dipped his quill in the inkwell with a sigh; he didn’t make many promises but he figured they were quite important. 

Mum and Dad 

Hello, it’s me 

He scribbled that out and continued next to it. 

Hello, it’s Albus. 

He scribbled it out again and nubbed his quill with more ink. 

Hello, it’s Al. I’m at Hogwarts. 

He smacked his head in frustration and his elbow knocked the ink onto the page leaving a big black spot that bled into his letters. He tore the blotched page in half, leaving the edges jagged and uneven, and began writing from the start. 

To mum and dad (and Lily too if you’re there)

I am a Slytheirn. Yes, you are wearing your glasses dad, and no, you did not misread it. I am a Slytherin. James hates me (more than usual). The Weasleys aren’t talking to me and I’m half sure Rose hates me now. Oh and Hagrid is very scared of me and I yelled at him. I think the Transfiguration teacher has it out for me, did you know he's like…creepily obsessed with dad? The classroom looks like it teaches ‘101 Facts about Harry Potter’. I told James I didn’t want to be his brother. Sorry about that. Also I am friends with Scorpius Malfoy, the son of dad’s biggest rival.

Blimey, this letter is going terribly. There’s no way I’m sending this. 

I’m such a bad son. 

He tore the letter apart, knocking the inkwell to leak a puddle on the floor, and crawled beneath the slippery sheets of his four-poster bed, still dressed in his robes. He turned onto his side to look at the other bed where Scorpius usually slept but it was empty. His heart beat longingly in the silence. He squeezed his eyes shut but did not fall asleep. He was too used to staying up all night talking and giggling with Scorpius until he was knocked out from exhaustion. He had forgotten how to simply sleep. He blinked at the darkness around him, the lonely darkness. He was not half tired but chose to force sleep upon himself for the sooner he woke up the next morning, the sooner he could see Scorpius again. 

He rolled onto his back and his mind ran wild with sleepy fears. His mind itched with the image of Scorpius waking him in the morning and glaring angrily at him. He curled into a ball and pushed away the scary thoughts. He stayed like that for a while and did not remember when he fell asleep, but dreamt of being back by his side in the infirmary.

Albus woke up at the first crack of light, feeling like he had not slept a blink, and hurried out of the common room without even slowing down to rub the sleep out of his eyes. He all but ran down the darkened corridors with long strides but somehow was not the first to arrive at the infirmary. The Headmistress was shouting herself shrill behind a tall wizard in billowing black robes and a long white ponytail, “A visitor’s pass is required! I insist you come with me, Mr Malfoy!” but the wizard ignored her attempts and dramatically stormed through the doors into the Hospital Wing. 

“Where is my son?” He asked loudly over the pleas of filling out a visitor’s pass. 

Albus stood outside the infirmary with wide eyes as he took in the sight of Scorpius’s father. The similarity was uncanny, but Scorpius was all round and bright where his father was sharp and dull. 

“POMFREY!” he heard the wizard shout. “Why was I not sooner informed of my son’s ailment? When did this occur?” there was a pause, some quiet words exchanged. “YESTERDAY? This is most unagreeable! My son, my only son, has been suffering since yesterday and nobody at this school saw fit to inform me until this morning?” came the accusing yell. 

“Please, Mr Malfoy if you would refrain from accusing my staff–” came an attempt from the Headmistress. 

“Suffering?” Madam Pomfrey scoffed. “You would know all about suffering, Draco Malfoy! Do you recall the Hippogriff incident of ninety-three? I still have it on record. You succumbed to a minor scrape on your arm, fixed in a jiffy, but I almost sent you off the Janus Thickey Ward to see a mind healer with the hysteria you insisted upon!”

“Visitors pass now!” 

“I was not hysterical!” shouted Mr Malfoy hysterically. “That hippogriff–” 

There was a tug on his shoulder and he jumped in fright, heart hammering like a drum. His godfather was standing over him. “Here for your friend? I heard there was an incident,”

Albus nodded. “I uh–I was–but Mr Malfoy–” his voice was overrun by the distant screeches about hippogriffs. 

His godfather seemed to find this all too amusing and rolled his eyes. “Ah, I see indeed,” he put a hand on his shoulder and they walked through the doors into the infirmary together. Albus caved slightly into the hold of his godfather as the shouting went on. “He’s always been a little bit dramatic,” he whispered.

“A little?” Albus countered in a tiny whisper. 

“I put my son’s safety in the hands of this school–” 

“Hogwarts is a school for children and children are indeed very foolish beings.” remarked the Headmistress. “We would deforest Scotland writing to inform parents of their child’s every bruise and scratch–”

“My son did not trip on the stairs or–Merlin forbid–fall out of a tree, he was hexed! Targeted by another student!” Mr Malfoy abruptly pulled a roll of parchment out of his sleeve and a quill too. “I would like full names of the attackers for my solicitors–” 

“Draco Malfoy, put that away at once!” Headmistress McGonagall gasped and she swatted him round the ear like he was no more than an insolent student. “We are not aware of the instigators at this moment nor if it was an unwarranted tussle–”

“How dare you suggest my son warranted an attack–” and the two were shouting back and forth once again. 

Albus blinked up at his godfather whose deep brown eyes were glittering as if he was watching a particularly entertaining movie. He looked back at Mr Malfoy who had unsheathed his wand at some point though was not actively pointing it at anyone. There was a fiercely protective look in his eyes that promised retribution. Albus found himself curiously imagining the terrible fate this man would have in store for his son’s attacker.

“I demand retribution!” 

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy,” Professor Longbottom interrupted with an incredulous laugh. “Blimey,”

Draco Malfoy spun around swiftly and narrowed his eyes as he took in the sight of his old schoolmate. “Well, well, well,” he half snarled, half chuckled. “If it isn’t Professor Longbottom. Shouldn’t you be off teaching kids the glorious medicinal uses of hippogriff droppings?”

His godfather smiled. “I must say, it’s been very many years since I encountered first year Hufflepuffs crying over a terrifying Draco Malfoy stomping through the school corridors. Deja vu,”

Draco Malfoy smirked smugly. “Good to know I have not lost my charm,” 

“Mr Potter,” came notice from Madam Pomfrey. She sounded almost relieved. “Please assure me that you have eaten before rushing here, young man?” at his shy shrug, she clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Mr Potter,” came a smooth drawl from Draco Malfoy. 

Albus sharply looked up at the wizard. He had an inquisitive look set on his sharp face, a gleam in his grey eyes, and one meticulously raised eyebrow. “You must be the Potter boy my son always drones on about in his letters, yes?” 

“Yes,” he said very quietly as he stared up at the imposing figure. “. . .Sir,”

 “Mm, yes I can see the resemblance, however, your git father would not suit snake green quite so remarkably,” The man extended his hand in greeting. 

Albus gulped, and after a second of hesitation, reached out for a firm handshake. He quickly sunk back against his godfather. He did not know Scorpius had told his parents about their friendship; he felt a knot of disappointment in his chest as he recalled his failed attempts to procure a letter for his own parents the prior evening. 

“Hm, how peculiar; Scarhead produced sprog with manners,” 

Albus coughed to poorly conceal his snort of laughter at the nickname. 

Scorpius did not wake up until half past six. Albus sat on a wooden chair next to Mr Malfoy the entire morning as they waited. Mr Malfoy would often adjust his son’s pillow and stole a second blanket for him off a neighbouring bed. Other than that, it was utterly quiet and neither spoke. He avoided glancing his way too often but he felt a bit like a piece of metal being drawn to a magnet. Scorpius blinked when he saw them both, tilted his head curiously, frowned, then fell back asleep. He woke up again about five minutes later and sat up, “I thought I was dreaming. I guess not.” he said. “Um, papa this–this is Albus,” he gestured his hand between them both. 

“We have been acquainted,” Mr Malfoy said, thrusting a goblet of cold water in his son’s hands. “Now, tell me what happened. I need full names for the solicitor,”

“Papa!” Scorpius whined, flushing red, though he was hiding a smile behind the rim of his goblet. 

“You were brutally victimised, Scorpius!” 

“I was not!”

Mr Malfoy looked around then leaned in close and in a hush voice said, “You were the instigator then? That does not matter. No one will ever know, mon chou. We will sue this child until they are penniless,”

Madam Pomfrey came over and hounded Scorpius with lots of questions about how he felt and sat him up on the edge of the bed to test his reflexes with a small wooden hammer. “Ship shape,” she said, scribbling down a couple notes. “You can join your classmates in tomorrow’s classes. You may experience slight numbness and tremors, it’s a common side effect of Skele-Gro,”

“Do you know the name of who hexed you?” Mr Malfoy asked his son. 

“No.” said Scorpius. 

Albus frowned at him and went to speak but Scorpius caught his eye and subtly shook his head. The boys began the walk to the Great Hall for breakfast once Mr Malfoy said his goodbyes. The castle was still rather isolated at the early morning hour and very quiet. It felt like they were alone in the castle apart from a few scavenging cats and whispering portraits. 

“Are you…” Albus trailed off uncertainty. “I thought–perhaps–you would be upset with me,” Scorpius frowned at him. He glanced unsurely at his feet.. James had only hexed Scorpius because he was friends with him. It was his own fault Scorpius was in the Hospital Wing. If he had not befriended him, then James would have left him alone. “It’s my fault,” he whispered doubtfully. 

Scorpius stayed frowning. “You didn’t hex me. It’s not your fault.”

Albus looked down at his feet thoughtfully. James had hexed Scorpius. He recalled the flash of purple barreling towards them, of Scorpius slumping in the snow, the frightened look in his grey eyes. He felt his blood bubble hotly beneath his skin. Albus had not done anything, it was all James, he had hurt his only friend, tried to take away his only friend. He felt like he was sinking through the floor with the sudden flood of anger that flooded through his veins, turning his sight red. He wanted James in the Hospital Wing instead of Scorpius. He wished for karma upon his stupid brother. 

Albus nodded, a slight pep added to his step as they walked down the quiet corridor. “You do remember who hexed you then?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then why…”

Scorpius chewed at his lower lip and his eyebrows dipped thoughtfully. “He is your brother, your family…It didn’t sit right with me to…you know?” 

“Oh.” He muttered extremely quietly. James was a moron for sure but he was still his brother and that meant something even if he didn’t always like that. 

The boys sat together at their usual spot at the end of the Slytherin table and packed their plates hefty with buttered toast, scrambled eggs and sausages and poured goblets with chilled pumpkin juice. Albus was starving after his prior day of worry.  He felt like royalty being amongst the first students to arrive for breakfast as he got to select all the finest pieces off the platters. 

Albus noticed Scorpius selecting some plump strawberries and chose to take a couple for himself too. 

“Your father is…” Albus trailed off, searching for the correct word. 

“Protective.”

Albus nodded warily. “He wouldn’t actually take my brother to the ministry over this, would he?” 

Scorpius paused mid sip, staring into his goblet as he thought. “I’m not sure… he is very protective. He would keep him locked up in the manor if he could. I tripped on the roots of an old pine tree when I was five and he had it chopped down.”

“Scorpius,” began Albus unsurely. “Why didn’t your mum come to see you?” Astoria Malfoy obviously cared a great deal for her son judging by the homemade bonbons and affectionate notes she attached. 

Scorpius looked deeply uncomfortable. Albus recoiled, hoping his words hadn’t accidentally translated something very mean in French or something. Scorpius drew in a tiny breath then quietly said, “She does not leave the manor,” he seemed reluctant to elaborate so Albus did question further. Scorpius never said much about his family so it didn’t surprise him much. 

They finished the rest of their breakfast without talking, watching as the Great Hall gradually flooded with hundreds of students and became very loud with chatter. The other first years, and some second years crowded around them pretty quickly. 

“Is it true?” Julian Zabini asked, sitting across from them. 

Scorpius nodded yes. 

“What did they do to you?” Bartleby Nott asked with a morbid grin. “Did it hurt?” 

“Uh–not really–”

Sylvie Davis shyly smiled at him, pushed her small glasses up her nose, and said, “You can copy my homework if you’re in too much pain to study,”

“Oh–” he was blushing from all the attention. 

Albus frowned. “You can copy mine if you need to,” he wasn’t a top student like her but he didn’t like the idea of Davis becoming too close with Scorpius; they were both very dorky with the best marks in class after all, they would have a lot to bond over. It made his chest twist with jealousy. 

“You poor thing—let me pour your pumpkin juice,” said Cecelia Zabini, appearing from nowhere with a jug. 

“Oh, you don’t have to–” but she did anyway. 

Albus frowned at all the sudden faces and noise around them. He did not like it. Nott had slipped into the seat next to Scorpius opposite him and was asking questions about the taste of Skele-Gro. Scorpius was flushed red and more stuttery than usual. Albus glared at the crusts of his toast on his plate. He wanted time to go back to when the castle was still asleep and he was alone with Scorpius. Quietly alone. 

“Malfoy and Potter,” Prefect Parkinson called out. “With me,” he shot them an impatient look. “Now.”

The boys shared a quick look before scrambling up and following the debonair prefect further down the table where a group of upperclassmen sat eating their breakfasts. He supposed Parkinson was not his ideal saviour from the hound of bothersome classmates but accepted it gratefully. The first years stretched their necks tall watching them go. 

Albus gulped nervously as he rotated his gaze between each of the students who stared back at him in return. There were four of them, all boys, and none looked younger than about fifteen. They all held themselves with a kind of lazy poshness and uninterested expressions. Albus straightened his emerald tie around his throat and ran a hand through his untidy black hair in a pitiful attempt to smarten himself up. Parkinson sat down and gestured for the boys to do the same thing. 

“We heard what happened,” Parkinson informed them casually, pouring himself some pumpkin juice. 

“You have?” Albus asked before he could stop himself. It had happened on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest away from the other students. 

Parkinson gave him a pointed look. “There are no secrets at Hogwarts.” 

The boys shared an equally uneasy look. He looked over his shoulder at the students around them, the other students at the table eyed them sceptically and whispers began being swapped from student to student. 

“You were kept overnight in the Hospital Wing?” asked Parkinson. 

“Yes.” said Scorpius. 

“It’s true then?” questioned a handsome dark skinned boy with thick dreadlocks wearing a tight green quidditch jersey with the name ‘MEADOWES’ written across the back. He quickly pieced that this was the notorious quidditch captain James always complained of. “Scorpius Malfoy was spelled into a human flobberworm?” there was something mocking in his voice but his face was dead set serious.

Scorpius opened then shut his mouth, opting to nod in answer. 

Parkinson shuddered. “Salazar, I still remember that god awful Skele-Gro when I got hit with it in second year,”

Albus frowned, he wanted to ask Parkinson how anyone had ever hexed him but thought he might offend him. Had he been bullied when he was younger? He certainly couldn’t imagine fifth year Courtenay Parkinson being bullied, if anything he seemed like a bit of a bully himself. If Parkinson noticed his inquisitive look, he didn’t mention it. 

“And you didn’t see who it was?” Parkinson asked.

Scorpius shook his head no and the older boys all exchanged curious looks. 

“A third year spell,” snarled an unsightly boy with a short auburn fringe cut in a precise military style. “Low blow for a lion,”

“You think so, Carrow?” chimed in the calm voice of a debonair boy who had hair as long as a girl. “Gryffindors are meant to be the noble ones. We’re the lowlives who curse first years, are we not?” He had an amused sparkle to his hazel eyes. 

“We don’t hurt our own, Rowle,” retorted Carrow, he must have been Casimir Carrow’s older brother, the resemblance was uncanny. “That leaves Gryffindor.” 

“You are forgetting Hogwarts has two other Houses, Carrow.” inputted a freckled boy with sandy blond hair. 

Carrow barked a laugh. “Do you blame a Hufflepuff then, Avery?” 

Avery rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, Rowle is right, lions are too noble to go after the younger ones, us snakes wouldn’t go after our own, we’re mutual with the eagles…” he shrugged. “Too cowardly to face off like equals, no honour like a lion. It screams Hufflepuff. Were they alone?” 

“A token of revenge against the crimes of the Malfoy family then,” Rowle commented.

Carrow leaned back and scoffed. “It would take years to formulate a list of every victim of that family,” he cracked his knuckles, each crunch disturbingly loud. “I say payback is sweet. Find out who this bloke is and he’ll never look twice at you again,” 

“It’s five against one, whoever it is will be begging for mercy when we’re done with him,” said Avery as he casually buttered his raisin bread, topping it with cinnamon. 

Scorpius stiffened next to him and made to take a step back but Prefect Parkinson kept him still with a firm grip on his shoulder. Albus shared a nervous look with him. 

“You got a problem with that?” Carrow asked snappishly, eyes narrowing on them both. 

“No!” said Albus without hesitation. “I don’t care–” he stopped before accidentally revealing his brother’s name. “How bad will you hurt him?”

They all shared identical smirks; it seemed smirking was a key trait of being a Slytherin. Parkinson spoke first, “We have not decided yet, however, we would love to hear any suggestions,” and gave a knowing look to the others who seemed to suddenly understand something unspoken. 

“It’s a bloke then?” Rowle asked.

Albus stilled as he recalled his own words. His eyes widened. “I just–I just assumed so—it was a deep voice,” he coughed to cover his discomfort. He doubted he was fooling the snakes. “It’s fine–It doesn’t matter. It was probably just a one off–”

“It will never stop if you let this slide,” Rowle said pointedly. 

Scorpius shuffled awkwardly, avoided looking anyone in the eye, and said, “I don’t think I want anyone getting hurt because of me.” 

The boys went to the library after breakfast. Scorpius went around collecting books he wanted to read, his hands were a bit raw to hold up the weight of the heavy tomes, so he stacked them into Albus’s arms. 

“You should be resting,” Albus told him. “You were in the infirmary all night. You were hexed.”

“Charms homework cannot wait—especially something as thrilling as duplication charms,” Scorpius gushed, adding another heavy tome to the stack in Albus’s arms. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to. I can meet you in the common room later if you like,”

“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t mind. Besides, I need to keep an eye out in case someone tries to hex you again,”

“I don’t think I need a protector from anyone who fancies spending their weekends in the library.” Scorpius snarkily retorted. 

“You never know, Scor. I’m sure all criminals loiter in libraries,”

“Scor?” 

“What?”

“You called me Scor,”

Albus flushed hotly. “Did I?” 

Scorpius nodded yes, unbothered as he lined his finger down the spine of a particularly dusty book. 

“Sorry,”

Scorpius twisted his neck very suddenly and locked his eyes on him. “Don’t be.”

Albus could only “Oomph,” as Scorpius stacked a final book on the impressive—and heavy—pile in his arms. 

They settled at a small table in a back nook of the library away from prying eyes. Albus insisted on reading the tomes out loud so Scorpius would not strain his healing. He liked peeking over the top of the page to see Scorpius’s head tilted in concentration as he followed every word he spoke. 

“I didn’t know you couldn’t duplicate goblin gold,” Albus commented, reaching for the next book without even being asked. He was beginning to discover reading and studying could be very time consuming if the contents were interesting enough. 

“The economy would be a disaster if we could.”

Albus blinked. “What’s the economy?”

The boys left the library when the bell chimed for lunchtime. “I’ll put the books away,” Albus said. “You go ahead.” Once he was done stacking the books away in the according shelves, he made a detour down the aisle dedicated to Defensive and Offensive Spells and selected two books. One was called Harmful Hexes and the other was Common Hexes and Counter Hexes.

Madam Pince peered sceptically at the books as he checked them out. “These are well above first year capability,”

“I can manage, madam,”

She narrowed her suspicious eyes on him over the rim of her glasses. “No funny business, I hope?” 

Albus frowned a genuinely befuddled look. “No, madam?” 

“Good. Heaven knows your older brother’s intentions when pops in here every blue moon.” Madam Pince handed him a clipboard. “Fill this out, just the regular stuff—title, date, your name, house…” then she exchanged him the books. 

Albus stared at the covers excited with adrenaline before stuffing them in his satchel and rushing to the Great Hall to find Scorpius. He would read them front to back. James would get a taste of his own medicine, and even better than that, Albus could protect Scorpius from being hurt. 

Scorpius handed him a strawberry tart when he sat down. “What took so long?” 

“Got lost,” he took an accomplished bite of the tart.

“In the library?” 

Albus pursed his lips. “Well, you know me,”

Albus curled up on a sofa that evening in the common room with his new books. He had read five whole chapters of Common Hexes and Counter Hexes and was immersed in interest. He discovered the counter curse for the flobberworm spell and glowered at the page wishing he had read it before. It had to be cast before the hex could properly take effect on the skeleton. 

“Potter,” said Parkinson as he sat down on the sofa opposite him. “Where’s your second half?”

Albus blinked up at him. “Showering,” Scorpius took awfully long showers and always came out of the bathroom with his typically porcelain skin flushed rosy red. 

Parkinson lowered his gaze. “Careful with that second book. You’ll have detention for weeks if you get caught casting them.”

Albus blanched. “I wasn’t going to hex anyone.”

Parkinson rolled his eyes. “Of course you are. You want to take matters into your own hands. Might I remind you that I am prefect?” 

Albus stared back at the older boy uneasily. “How would you know, Parkinson?” 

Parkinson gave him a look. “It’s like I said that first evening at Hogwarts. Being a Slytherin means you better get used to receiving your fair share of hexes and jinxes. It comes hand in hand with being a snake. Being a target requires being able to fight back. Your other classmates have probably already realised that, and if they haven’t then they will soon.”

Albus relaxed into the sofa, deciding to hear out the prefect. “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“Am I?” Parkinson mused out loud. “As a prefect, it’s my duty to look out for my fellow snakes, especially the younger ones. I know you’re going to have it worse than your classmates, therefore I consider it my duty to look out for you. A lot of us Slytherins don’t even know what to make of you, Harry Potter’s Slytherin Son. I’m sure you’ve heard the whisperings of the rest of the school—I’ve heard some foul names.” Albus felt his cheeks get warm at the reminder. “Far worse than the names I used to get,” 

Albus stared at him intensely. “You were bullied when you were younger, weren’t you?” 

Parkinson smirked but his eyes were dulled. “You didn’t just figure that out now, did you?”

Albus shook his head no. He had suspected for a while now. It just seemed surprising considering the way Parkinson gallivanted around bleeding with confidence. “What did you do?” he asked in a tentative whisper. “To make them stop?” 

“Scared them.” 

Albus swallowed thickly. “How?”

Parkinson sighed and leaned back comfortably into the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. “The professors never look out for us Slytherins. Even if you give them a name, don’t expect them to actually do anything but dock a couple points at best. No one ever trusts that a slimy snake was the victim. Us Slytherins usually have to take matters into our own hands.”

“And that’s what you did then?” Albus questioned breathily. 

“Course, little Potter,” 

Albus sat up straighter and leaned forward. “What did you do, Parkinson?” he asked intensely. “To scare them?” 

“Nothing a first year is capable of,” Parkinson remarked snarkily, looking him down. 

Albus glared at him, this seemed to amuse the prefect.

“But. . .” he inclined, bringing his attention back. “Slytherins look after each other,” he smiled far too mischievously for a prefect. “You get the bloke’s name–or witch’s–and I can ensure it will be dealt with.” 

Albus eagerly opened his mouth but quickly shut it again. “Scorpius wouldn’t want that,”

Parkinson shrugged. “It’s not like you don’t have your own fair share of bullies. If it gets too much, give me a name and it will be dealt with permanently.”

Albus narrowed his stare on the prefect. It seemed too good to be true. “On what terms, Parkinson?”

Parkinson barked a surprised laugh. “You’re making a fine Slytherin yet, little Potter! You’ll make Salazar himself proud.” he leaned in close, his voice low. “I’ll have you know that there is nothing that I want from you at this moment, however, in the future, should you be of help, I shall expect you to return the favour.”

Albus frowned uneasily and chewed on his bottom lip. “What kind of help?” 

“How am I to know? As I said, it’s hypothetical regarding future events. I just wish to branch out to keep myself afloat.”

“Why me?” 

Parkinson shook his head in amusement. “You have no clue how big of a deal you are, do you? I’d say having Harry Potter’s kid in my good graces is a pretty damn good deal for me. You come hand-in-hand with Draco Malfoy’s kid, double-bargain. An exchanging of favours during our years at Hogwarts. You’ll never make it without allies in the snake pit, kid.”

“Thank you, Parkinson,” 

Albus watched as the prefect stood up and straightened his robes. “Anytime, little Potter. I’ll be seeing you around.” he checked his watch. “Already ten? I best be off for my rounds, time to catch some cheeky lions out of bed,"