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Having cried himself to sleep the night before it felt only right for Scorpius to wake slowly, dappled in pale grey sunshine with his pillow still damp from tears and breakfast long over. Instead Scorpius jolted awake to find his face puffy with dry tears, his pillow damp with drool, and the clock striking 8am. All of which left him stranded without a decent excuse for missing the Malfoy ever-elaborate, never-ending Boxing Day Breakfast.
Staring glumly up at the canopy above his bed, Scorpius noted the way the dried tears stretched and pulled across his cheeks. The quiet of the room pressed him down into the bed, and he felt a pang of longing for the chatter of the Slytherin dorms. Martin would be tipping out half his trunk in search of a missing pair of socks, Brian would be casting hair charms, Leo would be singing in the shower. Even Albus would be clattering about, bumping his hip into the nightstand and absent-mindedly apologising to it, the way he’d done every morning for the last three years.
Of course they weren’t actually doing anything of the sort, as all the Slytherin boys had been packed off back home for Christmas. Scorpius had spent his first few years at Hogwarts quietly horrified on behalf of the students who didn’t have families to celebrate with. Those cold, drafty corridors and a small table in the Great Hall. No thank you! Not when Mum had insisted on underfloor warming charms throughout the Manor. Not when there were family friends dropping by with even more presents, cinder toffee bubbling on Scorpious’ bedroom fire in the morning and hot chocolate with Mum and Dad after dinner. He dutifully reminded himself that all those things were still true, that he didn’t really miss Hogwarts.
“Scorpius darling?” Astoria called through the door. “Are you decent?”
“Yes mum.” Scorpius’ voice sounded like it had spent the night nailed to a door. Pushing himself into a seating position, he reached for the stale glass of water by the bed and took a sip as Astoria popped her head around the door.
“Hello, are you joining us for breakfast?” She brandished a smile.
“I don’t think-”
“Please darling.” She interrupted, forestalling a refusal.
“Alright.” Scorpius sighed, fixing his gaze on the duvet. Maybe if he didn’t make eye contact she would leave and-
“Darling, about last night...” She trailed off and a flash of annoyance rattled Scopius, making his toes curl in the effort not to demand why she was bringing it up if she didn’t even have anything to say. “Darling, I-”
“Stop calling me that,” he hissed.
“Calling you what?” Astoria’s face transformed into a pretty twist of confusion. “Darling? But I always call you that.”
“No.” Scorpius fought to keep his voice level. “You only call me “darling” when you’re worried that I’m cross with you.” She also only called women “darling”, something that Scorpius was painfully aware of and that he planned to keep to himself. Pointing it out would lead to exasperated denials and a new addition to Astoria’s arsenal about how prickly Scorpius was.
“I don’t think that’s true,” she said. “I call you darling a lot, although I will admit that for the last year or so you’ve been in a permanent state of irritation with your poor old mum.”
“Right.” Scorpius sighed and kicked off the covers, flipping the corner of the duvet onto Astoria’s lap. “Well I’m not cross with you now-” he ruefully reflected that first year Scorpius would have been horrified at the easy way third year Scorpius lied to his mum “-and I don’t want to talk about last night. So if you’ll excuse me,” he marched over to his wardrobe. “I must dress for breakfast.”
“Scorpius I really think-”
“May I have some privacy?” He raised his voice, keeping his eyes fixed on the inside of the wardrobe. A moment of silence was followed by the sound of Astoria making her way over to the bedroom door.
“Apparently I’m no longer allowed to call my own child “darling”.” She announced to whoever was standing in the hall. Groaning quietly, Scorpius thunked his head against the edge of the wardrobe door. He’d be hearing about this for years.
Scorpius wore his new paisley shirt and tasseled loafers down to breakfast. The shirt was from Grand, a reluctant concession to the latest trend in Muggle clothing, and it was covered in swirls of sage and hunter green, accented by silver thread. It was beautiful, but was it Scorpius? When he’d asked for the shirt he’d been picturing the Bright Young Things being louche and elegant. What he saw in the mirror was a pale child, dressed as a cabbage. Distracted by the way his shirt strained across his stomach, Scorpius almost didn’t notice the little wispy scorpion scuttling around his ankles.
“Scorpius,” the patronus said. “It’s dad, I’m in the library. Come and say hello before you join the family.” Rolling his eyes at the idea that he wouldn’t recognise his own dad’s patronus, Scorpius changed course and stepped onto one of the floating staircases.
“The Library,” he said. The staircase remained motionless. “Salazar in his sodding lake, fine! Le bibliothèque!” The staircase immediately swung into action, carrying Scorpius up to the library while he seethed at how pretentious his family were. It was one thing for the original Malfoys to set their charms in French but for Grand and Grandmother Cissa to carry on the tradition was just... just... just not on. Still muttering to himself, Scorpius barged into the library.
“Scorpius darling,” his father’s head appeared around the back of one of the wingback armchairs clustered around the fire. He was already clutching a bloody mary. “Come, take a seat. We were just discussing Teddy’s dreadful taste in women.”
“Wotcher Scorp,” Teddy’s bright blue hair appeared above the top of the second armchair. “Don’t listen to your dad, he wouldn’t know a good woman if she slapped him in the face, married him, gave him an excellent son called Scorpius and was herself called Astoria.” During this little speech Teddy leapt from his chair, wrapped an arm around Scorpius, shepherded him to the third armchair, set him up with a virgin bloody mary and collapsed back into his own chair in a flailing pile of limbs.
“Hello Teddy, dad.” Scorpius nodded his greetings and took a sip of bloody mary. It needed more tabasco and he Acciod the small silver decanter, sending up his usual prayer of thanks that the Ministry’s magical detection laws couldn’t penetrate the Manor. The thought of enduring this Christmas holiday while having to do everything the Muggle way was almost too grim a thought to contemplate.
“Well,” Draco smiled. “Isn’t this cosy? The Malfoy men-”
“And Lupin men,” Teddy interrupted him.
“The Malfoy and Lupin men,” Draco continued, speaking just a shade louder. “Putting the world to rights.”
“Right.” Scorpius took a longer sip of refreshed bloody mary, his eyes fixed on his dad.
“Right.” Draco repeated, looking rather unsure of himself. “Very jolly.”
“Jolly.” Scorpius took another sip and remembered that he hated tomato juice. “Why am I here?”
“Ah.” Draco put his drink down, rubbed his hands together, picked his drink up, and tried to rub his hands together again. “You were very upset last night,” he ventures. “I thought there might be something else on your mind, beyond Albus staying over.” Scorpius glanced over to where Teddy was sipping his drink, long legs hooked over one of the chairs arms.
“You know what happened?”
“Yep,” Teddy nodded, popping the p. “Sounds a bit rough on your mum to be honest, but I haven’t heard your side.”
“I don’t have a side.”
“Course you do.” Teddy shifted in his seat, feet thumping down onto the thick carpet as he leant forward, elbows on both knees. “You’re not an aggy bloke. It’s not like you to get worked up over a sleepover.”
“It’s not just a sleepover,” Scorpius sighed. “Although it is very awkward, having to uninvite Albus when we’d already arranged everything.”
“You don’t have to uninvite him,” said Draco, the tiniest note of exasperation in his voice. “It’s just the sleeping arrangements that were worrying your mother. Surely separate bedrooms isn’t a reason to throw all your plans to the wind?”
“We share a bedroom at school.” Scorpius protested. “Why can’t we do that here? The point of a sleepover is to stay up late and talk, tell him!” He appealed to Teddy.
“I understand the mechanics of a sleepover,” said Draco. “What I don’t understand is why, once the talking is done, Albus cannot return to his own room.” His words sent a rush of shame through Scorpius. The previous evening, Astoria had waited until they were alone to share her concerns about “a boy” staying in Scorpius’ bedroom. Scorpius argued back that Albus wasn’t “a boy”, he was Scorpius' best friend — or at least Scorpius hoped he would be by the end of the visit — while mentally shouting down the voice in his head that clamoured to know if his mother would have cared about “a boy” if she had always viewed Scorpius as a boy. Or were she and Draco the kind, liberal parents he’d grown up thinking he had? The kind of parents who didn’t assume that if Scorpius was a boy he was automatically interested in girls. Maybe they thought Scorpius was gay — something he himself was only just starting to suspect — and their decision making was based on the idea that underage sex, girl and girl, girl and boy or boy and boy, was to be discouraged. Thinking about it all made Scorpius headache.
“It’s just not the way I pictured it,” he said. His voice sounded small and miserable, nothing like the low pitch he’d been trying to cultivate all year. The words themselves sounded small and miserable, as well. What a babyish thing to do, having a tantrum because a plan wasn’t coming together exactly the way he thought it should.
“Well.” Draco paused, his face pinched and unhappy. “I’m sorry that this is putting a crimp in your plans, but shouting at your mother was inappropriate.” He took a deep breath. “I, I was ashamed of you. Scorpius.”
“Ok.” Scorpius stared down at his hands, his face felt hot.
“And I expect you to apologise to her.” Draco sounded almost as wretched as Scorpius felt.
“Alright.” Scorpius stood, adjusting his cuffs and avoiding Draco’s eyes. “I’ll do that now. Bye Teddy.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Teddy scrambled to his feet. “Like the shirt, by the way.” He wrapped an arm around Scorpius shoulders and steered the two of them out of the library. Scorpius didn’t look at Draco as Teddy kept chatting. “Have you thought of wearing it open?” He tugged gently at Scorpius’s collar. “Maybe over a tshirt or something? Reckon you could pull it off.”
“Maybe,” said Scorpius, privately resolving to try it out as soon as breakfast was over. Teddy’s hand tightened briefly on his shoulder and he allowed himself to lean into the half-hug.