Post by Rachael on Jan 8, 2012 2:37:14 GMT -8
Title: Family Feuds Part 1
Rating: PG
Word count: 1996
Warnings: Mild slashy-ness - extremely mild. A bit of language.
Summary: Scorpius' life is messed up a bit by the reappearance of someone he never had the chance to know....
Clad in blue skinny jeans and a light grey cashmere turtle-neck jumper, Scorpius Malfoy stood in front of the Black Library. Or, perhaps, it should really be named the Potter Library, he thought, glancing back over his shoulder at the dark-haired teen lounging in the nearest armchair, his left leg dangling over the armrest. Scorpius’ cheeks tinged with a faint pink when he noticed Albus’ emerald-green eyes were fixed on him, and he turned back towards the library, his fingertips skimming across the spines of a number of texts on Complex Charms, before he found the text he was looking for.
Scorpius knew he had failed to hide his blush when he heard Albus chuckling quietly behind him. “What are you laughing at?” he asked once he had regained his composure. He withdrew the text on Human Transfiguration from the Library, and turned to face his friend of seven years, who had been more than just a friend, for the past half a year.
“You,” Albus replied, pushing himself up off the armchair, moving towards Scorpius, his jeans and t-shirt highlighting the musculature of his Quidditch-toned body. “I’m laughing at you, at the way you try to act all superior all the time, and then the image is ruined when you blush so prettily.” Scorpius flushed scarlet and backed away a little, until his back pressed against the bookshelves, which just had Albus chuckling again. Albus’ intentions were quite clear and the thought made Scorpius’ chest tighten. Albus’ boldness often had this effect on him, especially whenever they were in the Potter household.
Scorpius was never brave enough to kiss Albus when they were in his father’s household, which was sometimes a good thing, because he knew his mother would have fainted if she accidently walked in on a kiss...or worse. Albus was a very...physical being...very tactile, somewhat like Mr Potter, who was more of a hug-you-until-you-smother person. Scorpius sometimes wondered why, but he never asked. He figured it would be construed as quite rude, and if there was one thing a Malfoy tried not to associate himself with, it was rudeness.
Scorpius was startled out of his thoughts when Albus’ hand found its way into his silky platinum blonde hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. Scorpius shivered as Albus pressed so close that there was no more space between them. “There’s that pretty blush again,” Albus murmured, closing his emerald-green eyes as he tilted his head slightly. Albus was just about to kiss him when the Library door opened, forcing him to step back for propriety’s sake. They both looked towards the door, to see Mr Potter standing in the doorway, wand in hand.
Scorpius swallowed thickly, eyes falling towards the wand. Albus had told his family about Scorpius two months ago, and the man had seemed fine with it... Had he changed his mind, now that he knew Albus was not afraid to approach Scorpius while in his house? “Scorpius,” Mr Potter said firmly, “your father has sent word from the Ministry. He wants me to escort you to a secured location, immediately.”
“What?” Scorpius asked, stunned. Then his voice sharpened. “Why?! Are we in danger?! Did Father say anything else?!”
“No. Now, come on.”
“But –”
“Scorpius, we don’t have time for this,” Mr Potter snapped, his green eyes, so much like his son’s, hardening behind his new square glasses. Scorpius fell silent instantly. Mr Potter never snapped at anyone, unless there was absolute necessity. Scorpius said goodbye to Albus with a glance, and brush of his hand against Albus’ arm, before following Mr Potter out of the Library, down through Number Twelve, and out the front door. Once the front door was closed Mr Potter reached for the chain that he always carried around his neck, tugging it out from beneath his robes.
Scorpius saw a tiny motorcycle attached a magnet at the end of the chain. Mr Potter yanked the motorcycle away from the magnet, and threw it on the ground, where it suddenly enlarged to a life-size jet-black, vintage motorcycle. At Scorpius’ rather nervous glance, Mr Potter explained briefly, “This belonged to your cousin, Sirius Black, once upon a time; it’s perfectly safe, so, come on. Where you’re going, we can’t get there by regular methods of transportation.” Mr Potter straddled the motorcycle.
Nibbling his lower lip for only a moment, Scorpius hastily straddled the motorcycle, pressing awkwardly up against Mr Potter, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist. “Hold on tight,” Mr Potter advised seriously, before turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the vehicle vibration between Scorpius’ legs. Squeaking almost inaudibly, Scorpius tightened his arms around Mr Potter. Then, they were off, the bike shooting down the road like a bullet. Having never been on such a contraption in his life, Scorpius found he did not mind admitting, even if only to himself, that he was pretty scared.
The bike shuddered violently and, if anyone asked Scorpius later, he would deny vehemently that a scream had escaped him as he buried his face into the back of Mr Potter’s shoulders as the ground fell away from the motorbike. “Mr Potter,” Scorpius shouted in Mr Potter’s ear, the wind whipping at his face. “If I get out of this alive, you’re getting a smack!”
“Duly noted,” Mr Potter shouted in return, but his amusement was blatant, even with the wind howling past them, they were travelling so fast.
“You’re gripping that wand really tight!” Scorpius shouted, spotting the wand still held in Mr Potter’s right hand.
“Yes, well, I can’t drop it, Stupid! I’m supposed to keep you safe!”
“From what?!” Scorpius demanded to know.
“I don’t know!” Mr Potter retorted. “Your father didn’t say! I’m only following orders!”
Orders, Scorpius thought, a slight trace of fear creeping into his mind. His father usually never gave specific orders to the Auror Division; he usually allowed Mr Potter to take care of things there. Scorpius’ father tended to get more involved with the Order side of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; the court system, Azkaban, bringing in new laws regarding defendants in trial – namely that all those arrested had to be tried, and each defendant required a solicitor. After all, no one wanted a repeat of the illegal and wrongful incarceration of Sirius Black.
That his father was getting directly involved with the Auror Division spoke beyond words; it meant that something bad had happened, in his father’s eyes, something very bad. The mere thought of it had Scorpius’ stomach doing flip-flops inside him. Scorpius re-buried his face in the back of Mr Potter’s shoulder as he tried to fight the upsurge of fear within himself...fear for his father...for his mother...for his friends...for Albus and his family. He hoped it would not be the start of another war.
Though none of the parents of his generation would speak of it, Scorpius had read enough about the Second Wizarding War to know that he was terrified of it happening a third time. He had read of the horrors that had happened in front of his own father...in front of Albus’ father, too. Mr Potter had saved the Wizarding World from a power-hungry megalomaniac who had wanted to destroy people like Albus; people of Mixed heritage – Muggles, too, for that matter. So many people related to Scorpius’ generation of Wizards had been murdered or tortured during the war; as a result there was a general surge of terror whenever a Wizard or Witch was found dabbling in the Dark Arts, before men like Mr Potter and Mr Ron Weasley tracked them down and dragged them to the Ministry to be tried.
Scorpius and Mr Potter seemed to have been in the air for an eternity, when Scorpius finally felt the motorbike dip back down towards the ground, the wheels skidding across the ground briefly, until Mr Potter killed the engine. Scorpius dismounted the motorbike, and stumbled away, doubling over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried not to vomit his lunch up. He heard Mr Potter laughing somewhere behind him, and then the man slapped his back. “Toughen up, Scorpius; imagine what Albus would say if he saw you.”
“Prick,” Scorpius said, forcing himself to straighten as he glowered at the older man. Then, he gave Mr Potter’s arm a hard smack. Mr Potter glanced down at his arm, and then up at Scorpius over the rim of his glasses. Mr Potter, then, smiled as though he were indulging a five-year-old and beckoned Scorpius to follow him, while shrinking the motorbike once more, and returning it to its place around his neck. Scowling, Scorpius followed Mr Potter as the man dashed off to the left, pushing his way through some bushes as though they brambles did not bother him in the slightest.
It most certainly bothered Scorpius, however, as they tore little wholes in his cashmere jumper. But he would repair it later, or get Mr Potter to reimburse him for damages done to his property. After a minute or two of running through bushes, they burst out into a clearing and Scorpius saw a rather pleasant-looking manor house waiting for them. It was not the Malfoys’ Ancestral Home, as he had seen it in numerous pictures when he was growing up, but it was just as formidable. “Come on,” Mr Potter said firmly, leading Scorpius quickly towards the manor.
Before Scorpius and Mr Potter had reached the front door, it was opening and a woman with dark hair was dashing out. Scorpius pushed his way past Mr Potter, and embraced his mother as she flung herself at him. He could see the hunted expression on her face. Scorpius held her tight, knowing something was definitely wrong if his mother was like this. “Inside,” she whispered frantically in his ear, “inside quickly.” Without another word, his mother started dragging him into the safety of the house, with Mr Potter bringing up the rear, his wand at the ready as his hard green eyes surveyed the area.
As soon as the three of them were inside, Mr Potter began adding some extra enchantments – just in case. Scorpius was about to ask his mother what in the name of Merlin was going on, but at that moment a nerve-jangling, heart-stopping alarm went off. Mr Potter’s expression turned ferocious and, before Scorpius could say anything, the man was running outside, the door slamming shut behind him. Scorpius almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a crash, a snarl and an expletive in quick succession for he heard a voice that was as familiar to him as the back of his hand.
“Merlin, Potter, great reflexes. Glad you’re on my side.”
“You’ll only be glad if you can prove who you are,” Mr Potter said darkly. “Start talking.”
“My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I married Astoria Greengrasse, even though an arrangement with the Parkinsons had been made by my father. My son, Scorpius Draco Malfoy, is in an intimate relationship with your son, Albus-Severus Potter. Before the summer of 1997, you almost killed me in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, using Sectumsempra – a Dark Spell created by your son’s namesake, the late Headmaster, Severus Snape. On the night of the Final Battle, my mother Narcissa lied to the Dark Lord’s face, to keep you safe, because you told her I was alive. The night Hermione Granger was tortured by my aunt Bellatrix, I lied when they asked me if you were the one who had the enormous face.”
“My apologies for attacking you, Malfoy, but I had to be sure.”
“I know, now, will you tell this statue to let me go?” Scorpius’ father demanded. There were a few moments of silence, and then the front door opened. Scorpius’ father stepped inside, looking rather ruffled, followed by Mr Potter.
“Father, what is going on here?!”
Scorpius’ father looked him in the eye. “Your grandfather’s been released from prison.”
To Be Continued
Rating: PG
Word count: 1996
Warnings: Mild slashy-ness - extremely mild. A bit of language.
Summary: Scorpius' life is messed up a bit by the reappearance of someone he never had the chance to know....
Family Feuds Part 1
Clad in blue skinny jeans and a light grey cashmere turtle-neck jumper, Scorpius Malfoy stood in front of the Black Library. Or, perhaps, it should really be named the Potter Library, he thought, glancing back over his shoulder at the dark-haired teen lounging in the nearest armchair, his left leg dangling over the armrest. Scorpius’ cheeks tinged with a faint pink when he noticed Albus’ emerald-green eyes were fixed on him, and he turned back towards the library, his fingertips skimming across the spines of a number of texts on Complex Charms, before he found the text he was looking for.
Scorpius knew he had failed to hide his blush when he heard Albus chuckling quietly behind him. “What are you laughing at?” he asked once he had regained his composure. He withdrew the text on Human Transfiguration from the Library, and turned to face his friend of seven years, who had been more than just a friend, for the past half a year.
“You,” Albus replied, pushing himself up off the armchair, moving towards Scorpius, his jeans and t-shirt highlighting the musculature of his Quidditch-toned body. “I’m laughing at you, at the way you try to act all superior all the time, and then the image is ruined when you blush so prettily.” Scorpius flushed scarlet and backed away a little, until his back pressed against the bookshelves, which just had Albus chuckling again. Albus’ intentions were quite clear and the thought made Scorpius’ chest tighten. Albus’ boldness often had this effect on him, especially whenever they were in the Potter household.
Scorpius was never brave enough to kiss Albus when they were in his father’s household, which was sometimes a good thing, because he knew his mother would have fainted if she accidently walked in on a kiss...or worse. Albus was a very...physical being...very tactile, somewhat like Mr Potter, who was more of a hug-you-until-you-smother person. Scorpius sometimes wondered why, but he never asked. He figured it would be construed as quite rude, and if there was one thing a Malfoy tried not to associate himself with, it was rudeness.
Scorpius was startled out of his thoughts when Albus’ hand found its way into his silky platinum blonde hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. Scorpius shivered as Albus pressed so close that there was no more space between them. “There’s that pretty blush again,” Albus murmured, closing his emerald-green eyes as he tilted his head slightly. Albus was just about to kiss him when the Library door opened, forcing him to step back for propriety’s sake. They both looked towards the door, to see Mr Potter standing in the doorway, wand in hand.
Scorpius swallowed thickly, eyes falling towards the wand. Albus had told his family about Scorpius two months ago, and the man had seemed fine with it... Had he changed his mind, now that he knew Albus was not afraid to approach Scorpius while in his house? “Scorpius,” Mr Potter said firmly, “your father has sent word from the Ministry. He wants me to escort you to a secured location, immediately.”
“What?” Scorpius asked, stunned. Then his voice sharpened. “Why?! Are we in danger?! Did Father say anything else?!”
“No. Now, come on.”
“But –”
“Scorpius, we don’t have time for this,” Mr Potter snapped, his green eyes, so much like his son’s, hardening behind his new square glasses. Scorpius fell silent instantly. Mr Potter never snapped at anyone, unless there was absolute necessity. Scorpius said goodbye to Albus with a glance, and brush of his hand against Albus’ arm, before following Mr Potter out of the Library, down through Number Twelve, and out the front door. Once the front door was closed Mr Potter reached for the chain that he always carried around his neck, tugging it out from beneath his robes.
Scorpius saw a tiny motorcycle attached a magnet at the end of the chain. Mr Potter yanked the motorcycle away from the magnet, and threw it on the ground, where it suddenly enlarged to a life-size jet-black, vintage motorcycle. At Scorpius’ rather nervous glance, Mr Potter explained briefly, “This belonged to your cousin, Sirius Black, once upon a time; it’s perfectly safe, so, come on. Where you’re going, we can’t get there by regular methods of transportation.” Mr Potter straddled the motorcycle.
Nibbling his lower lip for only a moment, Scorpius hastily straddled the motorcycle, pressing awkwardly up against Mr Potter, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist. “Hold on tight,” Mr Potter advised seriously, before turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the vehicle vibration between Scorpius’ legs. Squeaking almost inaudibly, Scorpius tightened his arms around Mr Potter. Then, they were off, the bike shooting down the road like a bullet. Having never been on such a contraption in his life, Scorpius found he did not mind admitting, even if only to himself, that he was pretty scared.
The bike shuddered violently and, if anyone asked Scorpius later, he would deny vehemently that a scream had escaped him as he buried his face into the back of Mr Potter’s shoulders as the ground fell away from the motorbike. “Mr Potter,” Scorpius shouted in Mr Potter’s ear, the wind whipping at his face. “If I get out of this alive, you’re getting a smack!”
“Duly noted,” Mr Potter shouted in return, but his amusement was blatant, even with the wind howling past them, they were travelling so fast.
“You’re gripping that wand really tight!” Scorpius shouted, spotting the wand still held in Mr Potter’s right hand.
“Yes, well, I can’t drop it, Stupid! I’m supposed to keep you safe!”
“From what?!” Scorpius demanded to know.
“I don’t know!” Mr Potter retorted. “Your father didn’t say! I’m only following orders!”
Orders, Scorpius thought, a slight trace of fear creeping into his mind. His father usually never gave specific orders to the Auror Division; he usually allowed Mr Potter to take care of things there. Scorpius’ father tended to get more involved with the Order side of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; the court system, Azkaban, bringing in new laws regarding defendants in trial – namely that all those arrested had to be tried, and each defendant required a solicitor. After all, no one wanted a repeat of the illegal and wrongful incarceration of Sirius Black.
That his father was getting directly involved with the Auror Division spoke beyond words; it meant that something bad had happened, in his father’s eyes, something very bad. The mere thought of it had Scorpius’ stomach doing flip-flops inside him. Scorpius re-buried his face in the back of Mr Potter’s shoulder as he tried to fight the upsurge of fear within himself...fear for his father...for his mother...for his friends...for Albus and his family. He hoped it would not be the start of another war.
Though none of the parents of his generation would speak of it, Scorpius had read enough about the Second Wizarding War to know that he was terrified of it happening a third time. He had read of the horrors that had happened in front of his own father...in front of Albus’ father, too. Mr Potter had saved the Wizarding World from a power-hungry megalomaniac who had wanted to destroy people like Albus; people of Mixed heritage – Muggles, too, for that matter. So many people related to Scorpius’ generation of Wizards had been murdered or tortured during the war; as a result there was a general surge of terror whenever a Wizard or Witch was found dabbling in the Dark Arts, before men like Mr Potter and Mr Ron Weasley tracked them down and dragged them to the Ministry to be tried.
Scorpius and Mr Potter seemed to have been in the air for an eternity, when Scorpius finally felt the motorbike dip back down towards the ground, the wheels skidding across the ground briefly, until Mr Potter killed the engine. Scorpius dismounted the motorbike, and stumbled away, doubling over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried not to vomit his lunch up. He heard Mr Potter laughing somewhere behind him, and then the man slapped his back. “Toughen up, Scorpius; imagine what Albus would say if he saw you.”
“Prick,” Scorpius said, forcing himself to straighten as he glowered at the older man. Then, he gave Mr Potter’s arm a hard smack. Mr Potter glanced down at his arm, and then up at Scorpius over the rim of his glasses. Mr Potter, then, smiled as though he were indulging a five-year-old and beckoned Scorpius to follow him, while shrinking the motorbike once more, and returning it to its place around his neck. Scowling, Scorpius followed Mr Potter as the man dashed off to the left, pushing his way through some bushes as though they brambles did not bother him in the slightest.
It most certainly bothered Scorpius, however, as they tore little wholes in his cashmere jumper. But he would repair it later, or get Mr Potter to reimburse him for damages done to his property. After a minute or two of running through bushes, they burst out into a clearing and Scorpius saw a rather pleasant-looking manor house waiting for them. It was not the Malfoys’ Ancestral Home, as he had seen it in numerous pictures when he was growing up, but it was just as formidable. “Come on,” Mr Potter said firmly, leading Scorpius quickly towards the manor.
Before Scorpius and Mr Potter had reached the front door, it was opening and a woman with dark hair was dashing out. Scorpius pushed his way past Mr Potter, and embraced his mother as she flung herself at him. He could see the hunted expression on her face. Scorpius held her tight, knowing something was definitely wrong if his mother was like this. “Inside,” she whispered frantically in his ear, “inside quickly.” Without another word, his mother started dragging him into the safety of the house, with Mr Potter bringing up the rear, his wand at the ready as his hard green eyes surveyed the area.
As soon as the three of them were inside, Mr Potter began adding some extra enchantments – just in case. Scorpius was about to ask his mother what in the name of Merlin was going on, but at that moment a nerve-jangling, heart-stopping alarm went off. Mr Potter’s expression turned ferocious and, before Scorpius could say anything, the man was running outside, the door slamming shut behind him. Scorpius almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a crash, a snarl and an expletive in quick succession for he heard a voice that was as familiar to him as the back of his hand.
“Merlin, Potter, great reflexes. Glad you’re on my side.”
“You’ll only be glad if you can prove who you are,” Mr Potter said darkly. “Start talking.”
“My name is Draco Lucius Malfoy. I married Astoria Greengrasse, even though an arrangement with the Parkinsons had been made by my father. My son, Scorpius Draco Malfoy, is in an intimate relationship with your son, Albus-Severus Potter. Before the summer of 1997, you almost killed me in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, using Sectumsempra – a Dark Spell created by your son’s namesake, the late Headmaster, Severus Snape. On the night of the Final Battle, my mother Narcissa lied to the Dark Lord’s face, to keep you safe, because you told her I was alive. The night Hermione Granger was tortured by my aunt Bellatrix, I lied when they asked me if you were the one who had the enormous face.”
“My apologies for attacking you, Malfoy, but I had to be sure.”
“I know, now, will you tell this statue to let me go?” Scorpius’ father demanded. There were a few moments of silence, and then the front door opened. Scorpius’ father stepped inside, looking rather ruffled, followed by Mr Potter.
“Father, what is going on here?!”
Scorpius’ father looked him in the eye. “Your grandfather’s been released from prison.”
To Be Continued