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Chapter Text

Albus Severus Potter was currently fighting the urge to slam his older brother with his trolley.

“Dad!” he groaned as James Sirius Potter erupted into obnoxious laughter, turning to his father with a pleading expression. “He keeps saying it!”

Harry Potter gave a light sigh, turning a firm gaze towards his oldest son as his daughter, Lily Luna Potter, squirmed on his shoulders. “James,” he said. “Give it a rest.”

In the midst of another huff of laughter, James raised his hands as though surrendering. “Hey, all I said was he might be in Slytherin. And he might be, so…” His teasing grin fell as his father’s stare hardened. “Right. Fine. Sorry.”

He went back to pushing his trolley, focusing on weaving through the crowd of bustling Muggles that filled King’s Cross. Albus let out a deep sigh that went unnoticed amongst the commotion, trying to push any thought of Slytherin House — any of thought of himself in Slytherin House — aside. Instead, he turned to look at his mother, who had slid up to his side after her husband’s scolding to their eldest and was now walking beside him. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” he asked her, and Ginny Potter immediately smiled.

“Of course,” she assured him, resting her hand on one of his that pushed the trolley and squeezing. “Every day if you want us to.”

“No,” Albus said, quickly shaking his head. “Not every day. James says most people only get letters from home about once a month. I don’t want—”

“We wrote to your brother three times a week last year,” Harry interrupted from Albus’s other side.

“What?! James!”

Ahead of him, James merely snickered, eyes straight ahead as Albus glared at him. Ginny leaned down closer to him. “You might not want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts,” she said, the faintest hint of amusement in her breath. “He likes a laugh, your brother.”

Albus sighed again as his mother straightened. This, like last time, went unnoticed.

“Can we go now?” James called, practically bouncing on his toes. He stood between platforms nine and ten, directly in front of the brick wall that separated them. The Potter family came to a stop around him. Harry set Lily onto the ground and she immediately latched onto the side of Albus’s trolley, eyeing the wall with as much excitement as her oldest brother. Albus clutched the trolley handle tighter and looked between his parents worriedly.

“All you have to do,” Ginny started, pointing at the wall ahead, “is walk straight at the wall between platforms nine and ten.”

“Don’t stop and don’t be scared that you’ll crash into it,” Harry chimed in. “Best to do it at a run if you’re nervous.”

“I’m so excited,” Lily practically squealed. James seemed to mirror that excitement, grinning wider and shuffling his feet. Albus took a breath and readjusted his grip on the trolley, eyes locked onto the wall.

“I’m ready.”

He felt his dad join him at his side, Lily popping up between them as they all took hold. Ginny paired up with James, and together the Potters ran head-first through the barrier.

Platform 9 and 3/4 was, somehow, busier than King’s Cross.

Thick, white steam billowed from the parked train on the tracks, wisps floating along the platform. Trolleys piled high with trunks were scattered among the crowds. Animal cages rattled underneath the chatter of gathered witches and wizards, excitement twinged with slight nerves pulsing through the hugs and farewells and good luck wishes parents shouted to their children as they hopped aboard the Hogwarts Express.

Albus barely had time to take it all in before Lily was squirming again, tugging at her father’s sleeve as she whipped her head along the platform. As though she could see anything from her small height, Albus thought with faint amusement.

“Where are they?” she said, standing on her tiptoes to peer among the crowds. “Are they here? Maybe they didn’t come? They came, didn’t they? They should be here. Where are they?”

Chuckling, Harry placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and pointed to a familiar bright-haired family a few paces away. Lily’s face immediately lit up as she launched towards them, waving her arms frantically.

“Uncle Ron! Uncle Ron!”

And Ron Weasley immediately broke into a grin, reaching down to scoop Lily into his arms. “If it isn’t my favourite Potter!” he said as the two hugged.

“Ouch,” James said as the rest of the Potters caught up with their youngest. “Favouritism, much?”

“Favouritism? I know nothing of the sort!” Ron frowned at James. “Who are you again?”

James gasped in mock offence as Lily stuck her tongue out at him.

“Oi,” Ginny scolded, smacking her older brother’s arm. “Don’t stir the pot.”

“Please,” his daughter Rose Granger-Weasley agreed. “Leave the jokes to Uncle George. You’re not funny, Dad.”

“Talk about favouritism!” Ron exclaimed, turning to his wife for support. Hermione Granger only shrugged.

“Your jokes are… certainly something.” Ron gaped as Rose giggled, and he turned to his son in a desperate, last-ditch effort. Before he could even open his mouth, Hugo Granger-Weasley backed away.

“I’m not in this. I never disagree with Mum,” he said. Rose nearly doubled over laughing as Hermione smiled and pulled her son close to her.

“That’s my clever boy,” she said, running a hand through his hair. Hugo grinned sheepishly at his dad. Ron shook his head disapprovingly at Lily, who copied his action.

“Favouritism,” he said.

“Favouritism,” Lily repeated in the same defeated tone.

Albus sat on his trunk as his family formed a circle, watching them all converse.

“Parked alright, then?” Harry asked Ron as he set Lily down. He grinned proudly.

“I did. Hermione didn’t believe I could pass my Muggle driving test. She thought I’d have to Confund the examiner.”

“I thought nothing of the sort,” Hermione was quick to defend herself, smiling as she rested a hand on his shoulders. “I have complete faith in you."

“And I have complete faith he Confunded the examiner,” Rose said, giggling as her father swatted her away.

“I’ll have you know I drove a car the entire way to Hogwarts my second year,” Ron told her.

“Which you stole from Dad,” Ginny said.

“And crashed into the Whomping Willow,” Hermione added.

“Uncle Ron stole a car?!” Lily exclaimed.

“Harry was there too!” Ron said.

“Taking the car was your idea!” Harry cried.

“Where’s the car now?” Hugo asked.

“Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, I think,” Ron said. Hugo immediately brightened and exchanged an excited look with Lily, who was grinning mischievously. Ron pointed a finger at them both. “And don’t even think about going out there to find it.”

“Awwww,” Hugo and Lily whined.

“You two can’t even go to Hogwarts yet,” Rose scoffed. Hugo glared at his sister.

“We’re just messing around, Rose. Stop being such a party pooper.”

“No name calling,” Hermione scolded. Rose gave a smug smile. Hugo stuck his tongue out at her.

“You did all that at my age, and yet I got grounded for a week just for staying out past curfew,” James huffed.

“It was the fourth time that month alone and you had gotten several warnings,” Harry said.

“Oooooo,” Lily taunted her oldest brother. James rolled his eyes at her.

“And who’s the one who keeps sneaking sweets before dinner?”

“Hey!”

“Stirring the pot,” Ginny told Ron.

“Shut up, Gin,” he said.

“You have to tell me all the stories of Dad doing stupid things like that,” Rose told her mother.

“I’d be telling you stories until the day I die,” Hermione sighed. “And even by then, I wouldn’t have told them all.”

“Didn’t you do those things with him?” Hugo asked her. Hermione just pulled him into her side again as Rose shushed him. Her little brother merely giggled.

“Be nice, you two,” Ginny spoke to her children. “Don’t want James to leave for Hogwarts on bad terms, do we?”

Right, Albus remembered. Hogwarts. The place where he’d be spending most of the next seven years. The school his father only spoke praise of, the castle his father was able to find a true home and family within. Hogwarts, where everything had changed for Harry Potter once he had been sorted into—

“Dad?” Albus said suddenly. Harry startled and whipped around. Albus tried not to think too hard about that reaction.

(He had forgotten he was there. That he had more than two children, more than one child being sent off to school. Albus had been silent for no more than five minutes and was completely erased from his family’s existence. Merlin’s beard, he was being dramatic. Forget it. It meant nothing.)

“What is it, Al?” Harry kneeled down and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. The warmth was calming. The weight was grounding. Albus fiddled with his fingers as he took in a breath.

“What if I am… put in Slytherin?”

And there it was. He said it. The worries he tried to forget, the implications behind James’s incessant teasing he tried to ignore, the gnawing anxiety he tried in vain to wish away.

Harry seemed stunned, for a moment only blinking at Albus behind his round frames. “And what would be wrong with that?”

What would be wrong? Albus nearly barked out a laugh at the absurdity of that question, as though Harry couldn’t possibly fathom why his son would be so scared of that potential outcome.

(As though his son didn’t hear the way he spoke about the Slytherins of his time at Hogwarts, of the children of those ex-Death Eaters at Hogwarts now, names soaked in venom shared with his wife behind the closed door of their bedroom with the assumption that their children were asleep. But Harry Potter went through a lot and he was his dad so Albus shouldn’t judge him for that.)

“It’s just…” Albus rushed to find a suitable explanation. “Slytherin is the house of the snake… Of Dark Magic… It’s not like — With all of you, it’s not… It’s not like Gryffindor, you know, house of brave wizards…”

His babbling was cut short by his father’s laughter. Albus frowned as Harry shifted to be right in front of him, amusement making way for a soft smile. “Albus Severus Potter,” he started. “You were named after two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin, and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew.”

Albus fidgeted under his father’s gaze. “But I just…”

“If it really matters to you, the Sorting Hat will take your feelings into account.” At that, Albus straightened and finally met his father’s eyes.

“Really?” Harry leaned in closer.

“It did for me.” His soothing words, gentle smile, and warm eyes along with the grounding weight of his hand on Albus’s shoulder finally quieted the chattering whispers in his head, and he smiled back at Harry. Wide. Genuine. Harry grasped Albus’s hand as he stood and hauled him up with him. “Hogwarts will be your home away from home. I promise you have nothing to be frightened of there.”

“Except the Thestrals,” James cut in with his ever-present, ever-wide, ever-annoying grin. “Watch out for the Thestrals.”

“I thought they were invisible!” Albus cried. James snickered as Harry turned Albus back to facing him.

“Listen to your professors, don’t listen to your brother, and remember to enjoy yourself.” Harry squeezed Albus’s shoulder as he smiled again. “The experience is what you make it, after all.” With that, he stood back and faced both his sons with a sharp clap. “Now! If you don’t want this train to leave without you, I suggest you hop on.”

He didn’t have to tell James twice. Shouting a quick farewell to his parents, he turned and rushed towards the train. Ginny sighed and shared an exasperated look with her husband, who only shrugged.

Rose hugged her parents and brother goodbye before gathering her trunk. “And Rose,” Hermione said. “Remember to give Neville our love.”

“Mum!” Rose cried, face contorting in disgust. “I can’t give a professor love!” With that, she turned and followed James.

“I’m gonna chase the train out!” Lily declared, immediately pouting when her mother placed a firm hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.

“Now you stay right here, young lady,” Ginny scolded before melting into a smile as Albus hugged her. He lingered for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. When they broke apart, Harry was waiting with his arms open, and Albus gave him a tight squeeze — one more moment to ground himself in his father’s comforting words — before stepping back and grabbing his belongings.

“Right,” he said, gaze flickering between his parents, sister, aunt and uncle and younger cousin. “Well… bye then.”

He pretended not to notice the concern pooling in his mother’s eyes, nor the way she immediately stepped close to Harry and began speaking quietly. In the reflection of the train windows, he could see Harry shaking his head even as Ginny’s frown deepened.

Albus boarded the Hogwarts Express.

Chapter Text

“Anything from the trolley, dears? Pumpkin Pasty? Chocolate Frog? Cauldron Cake?”

Albus eyed the Chocolate Frogs with interest as the trolley witch slowly hobbled down the train corridor. He was about to reach out and tap her shoulder when someone suddenly grasped his own shoulder and spun him around. “Albus!” Rose scolded. “We need to concentrate.”

Albus frowned at the intensive stare his cousin wore. It was in these moments she looked the most like her mother, eyes slightly widened and lips slightly pursed. He met her look with a confused one. “Concentrate on… what?”

Rose huffed and rolled her eyes, as though it were obvious and Albus was the fool for not seeing it. “On who we choose to be friends with!” Her eyes lit up as she shuffled closer to him and poked his chest. “My mum and dad met your dad on their first Hogwarts Express, you know.”

Albus blinked, shaking his head as he stumbled back. “So we need to choose now who to be friends with for life?!” Rose nodded quickly, and Albus heaved a breath. “That’s quite scary.”

“On the contrary, it’s exciting!” Rose said, bouncing in place. “I’m a Granger-Weasley, you’re a Potter. Everyone will want to be friends with us. We’ve got the pick of anyone we want!” She laughed and clapped her hands, positively beaming at this revelation.

Albus, meanwhile, was feeling his heart sink with every second. He was keenly aware of their family’s fame — especially regarding his father. Albus was able to draw attention from anywhere and anyone with the mention of his last name alone. Rose knew this as well as he did, and it was clear she spent the whole summer leading up to this train ride meticulously planning how to use their family names to their advantage. She was only trying to make their Hogwarts experience as great as possible, he knew that, but just because Rose was eager to use their infamy (which again wasn’t really theirs, just an extension of their parents’) to gain popularity didn’t mean Albus was.

Still, it wasn’t like he knew anybody else on that train, and he’d rather jump onto the tracks than try to latch onto James and his mates. So he played along, swallowing back any protests of parading his Potter name around and drawing even more attention to himself than he was already guaranteed to get. “So,” he started, “how do we decide which compartment to go in?”

Rose scanned the corridor and the various compartment doors. “We rate them all,” she started slowly before turning definitively towards Albus, “and then we make a decision!”

Seemed like a lot of work just for choosing a place to sit, but Albus nodded and the two split off. He heard Rose sliding open compartment doors behind him, offering friendly greetings before sliding it back shut and moving onto the next. How she did it so casually and with such confidence, Albus had no idea. The entire process seemed utterly ridiculous to him, and he was sure he looked ridiculous doing it. Still, he stopped in front of a compartment and, trying to imitate Rose’s flourish, slid it open.

He hadn’t heard any voices coming from inside, so he had assumed it to be empty. For the most part, it was, except for a boy sitting on the right-hand seat by the window. He had been reading, book open in his lap, but jolted up when the door opened, grey eyes widened in shock. Albus had never seen blond hair as light as this boy’s in his life, glinting silver from the sunlight. Then Albus realised he was staring, and he quickly offered the boy a sheepish smile.

“Hi,” he said slowly. “Is this compartment—?”

“It’s free,” the boy interrupted, then pressed his lips together as he glanced down. “I mean… It’s just me.”

“Great,” Albus said, daring to shuffle further inside. The boy looked up again at the movement. “So we might just…” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder as a vague reference to Rose. “Come in for a bit… If that’s alright—”

“That’s okay!” the boy exclaimed, shutting his book as he jumped up. “Hi—”

“Albus. Al. I—” Albus shook his head, cursing himself for his stuttering. Why was he even stuttering? “My name is Albus.” The boy’s smile widened.

“Hi, Scorpius. I mean—!” He shook his head too, waving his arms around before gesturing to himself. “I’m Scorpius! Yes. You’re Albus, I’m Scorpius, and—” He jolted again as Rose rushed in, expression a mixture of confusion and annoyance at Albus’s dawdling. Then she spotted Scorpius, and her face turned stoic. “And you must be…”

“Rose,” she said coldly. Scorpius nodded politely.

“Hi, Rose… Uh, would you like some of my Fizzing Whizbees?”

Scorpius turned and set his book on the seat, whipping back around with a red paper bag patterned with white polka dots. Rose immediately shook her head as Scorpius twisted the bag open. “I’ve just had breakfast, thanks.”

Scorpius didn’t acknowledge this response, merely peering into the bag as he continued, “I’ve also got some Shock-o-Choc, some Pepper Imps, and some Jelly Slugs.” He smiled as he looked up at the pair. “Um, Mum’s idea,” he clarified, shaking the bag a bit. “She says, ‘Sweets! They always help you make friends!’” He sang that last bit, which he immediately seemed to regret as his smile fell and he shuffled backwards, beginning to twist the bag back closed. “Ugh, stupid idea, probably—”

“I’ll take some!” Albus said, ignoring Rose’s smack on his arm as Scorpius looked back up at him. He gave an amused smile. “Mum doesn’t let me have sweets. Uh, which one would you start with?” He peered into the bag as Scorpius opened it up again, continuing to ignore Rose’s incessant smacking on his arm. Scorpius chuckled at his question.

“Easy. I’ve always regarded the Pepper Imp as the king of the confectionery bag. They’re these peppermint sweets that make you smoke at the ears!” he explained cheerfully. Albus grinned.

“Oh, brilliant! That’s what I’ll have then!” Scorpius readily extended the bag to him as Albus went to reach inside, but Rose finally gave up on her subtlety and hit Albus’s hand away, smiling tightly at Scorpius as she did so. Albus frowned as his annoyance bubbled over. “Rose, will you please stop hitting me?”

“I’m not hitting you,” she said, eyes wide in an attempt to look innocent.

“You are, and it hurts.”

“She’s hitting you because of me.” Scorpius had twisted the bag shut again and was looking at the floor, having distanced himself from the cousins. Albus’s frown turned from annoyed to confused as he stepped away from Rose to get a better look at Scorpius.

“What?” Scorpius sighed as he sat back down.

“Look, I know who you are, so it’s only fair you know who I am.”

“What do you mean you know who I am?” Scorpius finally looked back up at him.

“You’re Albus Potter.” He briefly turned and gestured to Rose. “She’s Rose Granger-Weasley.” He shifted back to face Albus, but didn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m Scorpius Malfoy…” When Albus only continued staring, he elaborated, “My parents are Astoria and Draco Malfoy.” When Albus stayed silent, he heaved a breath and said, “Our parents… they didn’t get on.”

Rose scoffed. “That’s putting it lightly,” she said, not even bothering to hide her dislike of the boy. “Your parents are Death Eaters!”

“Dad was, but Mum wasn’t!” Scorpius shouted, shooting Rose a defensive glare. She seemed momentarily taken aback by the outburst, but quickly regained her composure and looked back at him with an icy stare. Albus could only watch their showdown, glancing between the two as Scorpius’s flash of confidence faded and the hard glint in his eyes turned into dejected exasperation. “I know what the rumour is, and it’s a lie.”

“Rumour?” Albus couldn’t help but ask. Rose didn’t shift her gaze from Scorpius, but the boy glanced over at him as he asked, “What rumour?”

Scorpius seemed to brace himself, shifting in his seat as he directed his eyes to the empty space directly next to Albus. “The rumour,” he started slowly, “is that after the Second Wizarding War, the Malfoys never… stopped practising Dark Magic. That my pureblood family was so dedicated to Voldemort’s cause that they… kept me in Malfoy Manor for most of my life because…”

“Because… what?” Albus pressed, and Scorpius barely contained a flinch.

Rose seemed to be fed up with his hesitation as she stepped into Albus’s line of vision and said, “The rumour is that the Malfoys are training him as Voldemort’s successor, Albus.” Albus blinked, stunned, and looked to Scorpius for confirmation. The boy was looking anywhere but the cousins, shoulders hunched as he seemed to try and shrink in on himself. Rose at least had the decency to look apologetic as she turned to Scorpius and stuttered out, “I-I’m sure it’s rubbish. I mean, they’re saying that about practically every Death Eater family, it’s got nothing to do with you personally.”

Scorpius seemed shocked by her defence of him, but he quickly nodded. “Yes! Exactly! I mean, it’s got a bit to do with me — my last name, I mean. Everyone knows the Malfoys were in good standing with Voldemort back in the day — but they defected at the Battle of Hogwarts! Trust me, my family is very glad that he’s gone.”

Rose’s smile tightened. “And so are we.” She nodded at him slowly, clearly condescending, and made a show of stepping backwards out of the compartment. “Well, we should probably sit somewhere else. Come on, Albus.”

Albus watched as Scorpius’s face fell, but he made no objection nor any move to further defend himself. Instead, he seemed to shrink in on himself further, turning his back to the door as though he couldn’t bear to watch them leave. It all hurt Albus, for what reason he didn’t understand. He didn’t know this boy, just met him five minutes ago, but he hated the way Rose was treating him. The cold stares, venom-laced words, acting like she was morally and socially above him because of a label she gave him. Just because of his last name, his family history, his father’s history, suddenly Scorpius Malfoy was a Death Eater and carried the burden of his family members’ horrible crimes. But he never asked for any of that. He didn’t ask to be Draco Malfoy’s son. He didn’t ask to carry the Malfoy name, so why should all his worth be tied to it?

“No,” Albus said, stopping Rose in her tracks. He noticed Scorpius’s shoulders tense in his peripheral vision, but the boy still didn’t turn around. Albus turned to face his cousin. “I’m okay. You go.”

“Albus!” Rose shrieked. Realising her volume, she quickly looked into the corridor then flicked her eyes to Scorpius — who was still facing the other way — before looking back at Albus. “I won’t wait for you,” she said lowly, a warning. She didn’t take kindly to her plans going awry.

Still, Albus raised his hands and said, “And I wouldn’t expect you to. But — I’m staying here.” He plopped himself on the seat opposite of Scorpius with finality, meeting Rose’s stare directly, challenging her. Her face darkened quickly.

“Fine!” she said, and without another word or glance to either of the boys, she whipped around and stalked down the corridor, the compartment door thudding shut.

Silence overtook the compartment, and Albus dared to look over at Scorpius. The boy had finally lifted his head once he heard Rose leave, and his eyes darted over to Albus. The two stared at each other for a moment, unsure, before Scorpius shifted in his seat.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, gratitude melting into every syllable.

“Oh no,” Albus said quickly, a sudden defensive urge rising inside him. “No, I didn’t stay for you, I stayed for your…” With a teasing grin, he raised a finger and sang, “Sweets~”

Scorpius immediately dissolved into embarrassed laughter. Albus joined in. Speaking of the sweets, Scorpius reached for the bag beside him, digging inside as he met Albus’s eyes with an ease and comfort he’d previously lacked. “So,” he said as he popped a sweet into his mouth, “do you prefer Albus or Al?”

Albus took a second to think. Nobody had ever asked him that question before. “Albus,” he decided, and Scorpius nodded.

“Well, thank you for staying for mY SWEETS, ALBUS!”

Albus jumped then laughed as smoke came pouring out of Scorpius’s ears. And for the first time since boarding the train — since entering King’s Cross — since leaving the house that morning — Albus was enjoying himself.

Night had fallen by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. In that time, Albus had learned three things about Scorpius.

1. The boy had a sweet tooth. Like a sweet sweet tooth. He and Albus had finished the bag of sweets not even a quarter of the way through their journey, and Scorpius had insisted on getting more from the trolley witch, not seeming at all deterred from the possibility of cavities or a stomach ache or a sugar rush which would almost certainly be followed by a sugar crash. On the bright side, Albus got his Chocolate Frog.
2. Scorpius was really close with his mother, Astoria. Since he had a sheltered upbringing (for reasons he didn’t elaborate on, but Albus wasn’t bothered by that), he spent most of his time with her in her own small library in the manor, filled with magical and Muggle books alike. His eyes practically sparkled as he rattled off the names of authors he and his mother particularly loved reading together (Albus knew Bathilda Bagshot, but who this “Edgar Allan Poe” was he had no idea) along with some of his own favourites (Scorpius insisted Albus read “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” which Albus was admittedly intrigued by when Scorpius described it as “the Muggles’ take on Polyjuice Potion”). But all this talk meant—
3. Scorpius reminded him of Rose.

“Well,” Scorpius laughed when Albus told him such, “there’s nothing wrong with being passionate for one’s education.”

“Yeah, but I think for her it’s less about learning and more about showing off how ‘intellectually superior’ she is,” Albus said, rolling his eyes as he slumped back in his seat. Scorpius frowned.

“Is she that bad?” he asked tentatively, and Albus’s eyes widened. Merlin, what an asshole he must be seeming like right now, talking bad about his cousin like this.

“No no!” he exclaimed, shooting upright and waving his hands frantically. “No, she’s not bad at all! Sorry, she’s just been irking me today, I don’t mean to make her seem like—”

“It’s okay, Albus,” Scorpius gently interrupted, offering him a small smile. Albus immediately relaxed. Strange how he had only known this boy for several hours, yet his presence soothed his nerves in a way no one else had been able to — not even his dad. “But I’ve been talking for too long,” Scorpius said, readjusting in his seat so he was sat straight up, looking at Albus with interest. “Tell me something about yourself.”

And Albus told him. He spoke about the summers spent at his grandparents’ burrow and the prank wars that erupted due to the tricks his Uncle George sold in his joke shop that he secretly gave his nieces and nephews. He recounted stories from his mother’s time playing with the Holyhead Harpies, though admitted he wasn’t as interested in Quidditch as the rest of his family. The one topic he refused to bring up was his father, and in the back of his mind, he worried that Scorpius would ask about him. Why wouldn’t he? It’s Harry Potter.

But he didn’t. Instead, he listened to Albus’s stories, nodding along and laughing when appropriate. He insisted that Albus sneak him one of George’s tricks in the future, which he promised to do without a second thought. He was also pleased to learn that Scorpius didn’t much get the hype around Quidditch either, and the two were so engrossed in conversation, it took a moment for them to realise the train had stopped.

“Wizzo…” Scorpius muttered as he looked out the window. The platform was dark, illuminated by flickering lanterns. Crowds of robed students rushed by, chattering excitedly among themselves as they headed to the carriages which would take them to the castle. Ringing clearly through the noise was the call of a man, one very familiar to Albus.

“First years!” Rubeus Hagrid called. Albus could make out his shadow near the end of the platform, the bearded giant holding up a lantern as he beckoned new students over. “First years, this way!”

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Scorpius practically squealed, grin stretching wide across his face. On the contrary, Albus barely contained a grimace as all his anxieties from earlier in the day came rushing back, James’s taunting echoing across his mind. Before he could reply, their compartment door banged open, and Rose Granger-Weasley came rushing in again. Any trace of her previous annoyance with Albus was gone as she bounded over to him and grabbed his hand.

“Albus!” she said. “Let’s go say hi to Hagrid!”

And then she was yanking him out the door, barely giving him time to look over his shoulder at Scorpius. He seemed a little taken aback, but was able to give Albus a tiny smile and wave before Rose pulled him off the train and snaked their way through the crowd towards Hagrid. She held her head high, taking long strides as she called Hagrid’s name and waved maniacally. It definitely drew attention, even more when Hagrid spotted them and enthusiastically shouted their names, but perhaps that was the point. She seemed to be enjoying the attention anyhow.

Albus, meanwhile, was trying to slink into the dark as much as possible, though that was hard to do with Rose’s firm grip on his hand, like she was determined not to let him slip away this time. He could already feel the stares, his peers looking him up and down, his name on the tips of their tongues as they leaned over to each other and whispered.

Potter. Potter. Albus Potter.

No doubt Rose was enjoying being seen with him too, making a show of draping an arm around his shoulders as she continued steering them towards the boats. Somehow (Completely intentional on Rose’s part, Albus thought), they ended up walking side-by-side with Hagrid. He smiled down at them both. “It’s great ter see yeh two,” he said, much louder than Albus would have liked. “Seems like just yesterday I was leadin’ yer parents down ter these same boats.” Immediately, Albus cringed. Hagrid was a close family friend and he liked him well enough, but he wasn’t very good at being impartial towards students.

But Rose knew this as well as he did, and it seemed like she was counting on it, raising her head higher and speaking just as loudly as Hagrid. “Our parents say hi, by the way. And they wish you luck on your class this year. I can’t believe we have to wait until our third year to have you as our professor.”

Hagrid chuckled. “Well, yeh both can come visit me anytime.” He looked at Albus as he said this, and Albus did his best to give a smile and good-natured nod. He swallowed a sigh of relief when they reached the boats at the shore of the Great Lake and Hagrid turned his attention to the rest of the students. “Right, everyone in! Four per boat, c’mon!”

As Rose once again tugged him forward, Albus quickly glanced around the surging crowd. Scorpius was climbing into one of the farther boats, taking hold of the lantern at the front. His silver-blond hair seemed to shine under the moonlight.

“I’ll hold the lantern,” Rose said as she settled into her chosen boat, gripping the handle tightly with both hands. Albus thanked her as he took a seat next to her, trying not to look behind them as two more first years joined their boat. Rose, of course, immediately looked over and shot them a friendly smile. “Hi! Isn’t this exciting?”

The boats glided smoothly over the surface of the lake, and it wasn’t long before the sprawling Hogwarts Castle came into view. It towered against the star-speckled sky, the windows lit aglow with warm light. Albus’s father had described Hogwarts to him countless times, and Albus had often figured he was exaggerating the details. But it truly was breathtaking. He glanced over at his cousin to find Rose already looking at him, smile as bright as the lantern she held. For once, Albus had a genuine smile to shoot back at her.

That smile dropped as the first years reached the castle and gathered in front of the Great Hall to await the Sorting Ceremony. The whispers were easier to hear now, and the sight of Hogwarts must have suddenly instilled courage in the students as they walked directly up to Albus, not even bothering to hide their awestruck expressions.

“So it’s true,” one girl said breathlessly, grinning as she danced around him. “You’re Albus Potter.”

“A Potter!” a boy exclaimed in disbelief. “In our year!”

“He’s got his hair,” another boy said, popping up at Albus’s side as he examined his features. Albus tried to shuffle away as subtly as he could. “He’s got hair just like him!”

“And he’s my cousin,” Rose declared. For the first time that day, Albus was grateful for her boldness as everyone’s attention turned from him to focus on her. She, of course, took the sudden spotlight in stride as she turned to smile at the gawkers. “Rose Granger-Weasley. Nice to meet you.”

Before any more comments could be made, the doors swung open and the first years were led inside. The upperclassmen at all four House tables craned their necks to get a look at the group as they were led to the front of the hall. A few family members shouted out the names of first years as they walked by. Luckily, Albus didn’t hear his brother’s voice among the shouts, though he did manage to catch his eye at the Gryffindor table. James grinned widely when he spotted his younger brother and gave him a thumbs-up. Relieved at the lack of teasing, Albus smiled and gave one back.

On the platform in front of the staff table, the infamous Sorting Hat was perched on a stool. Seeing it brought a wave of anxiety crashing over his entire body, and he clenched his fists within the large sleeves of his robes as the first years gathered in front of the hat. At least his worry didn’t look so out of place as all first years began to tense and squirm as their sorting loomed closer.

Silence fell over the Great Hall as, from the stool, the Sorting Hat began to sing.

“I’ve done this job for centuries
On every student’s head I’ve sat
Of thoughts I take inventories
For I’m the famous Sorting Hat

I’ve sorted high, I’ve sorted low,
I’ve done the job through thick and thin
So put me on and you will know
Which House you should be in!”

Everyone applauded as the hat finished its song. With that, the Sorting Ceremony finally began.

With each name called, with each declaration from the hat, with each round of applause as the newly-sorted first year made their way to their House’s table, Albus felt his chest tighten more and more. He tried practising the breathing exercises his mother taught him when he was younger (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.), but with all the commotion happening around him, it was impossible to focus. He didn’t even know what he was afraid of. Of being put in Slytherin? Of not being put in Slytherin? Or simply being the centre of attention as he sat on that stool under that hat under the whispers of his last name.

Potter. Potter. Albus Potter.

“Rose Granger-Weasley!”

Rose took a deep breath, squared her shoulders back, and walked briskly up the platform. Even with that display of confidence, Albus could tell by the tension in her shoulders that she was nervous. But she, of course, didn’t show it, sitting up tall on the stool as the Sorting Hat was placed upon her head. The hat, as expected, didn’t take long to sort her.

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“Thank Dumbledore,” Rose muttered as she hopped off the stool and ran over to the cheering Gryffindor table. Albus watched James lean over and knock her shoulder, welcoming her into Gryffindor House just where she belonged. Just where their entire family belonged.

Albus knew he should be paying closer attention to the sorting, to the names being called and the subsequent House they were placed in. These were his peers after all, and he would — inevitably — be sharing a House with some of them. But instead, he focused — in vain — on evening out his breaths and relieving the sharp pain building in his chest.

“Scorpius Malfoy!”

It was impossible to miss the sudden rush of whispers weaving throughout the hall at the mention of the Malfoy name, but Scorpius didn’t acknowledge it as he approached the hat. Much like Rose, it wasn’t long before the hat announced, “SLYTHERIN!” Cheers came from the Slytherin table as Scorpius, clearly expecting this result, gave a small smile and nod as he joined them. He caught Albus’s gaze as he stepped down from the platform, and his smile widened encouragingly. The smile Albus gave in response was tight and clearly forced. The dread spread its way from his chest to his entire body, head to toe, and he was strongly considering turning and fleeing the Great Hall — Hogwarts — altogether.

“Albus Potter!”

The entire hall seemed to still, holding their breath in anticipation. Albus couldn’t decide if that was better or worse than the whispers Scorpius received. With all eyes on him, he had no choice but to step forward, trying to imitate Rose’s calm demeanour as he climbed onto the stool. The Sorting Hat, big and floppy on every student, nearly covered his eyes as it was placed on him.

“Hmm, a Potter,” it spoke. “I still remember the day I sorted your father. He was quite difficult, that one.”

Of course, Albus thought, the hat had to mention his father.

“The Potter name lives on in infamy,” the hat said, and that was when Albus remembered that it could read his thoughts. “It’s only a natural association.”

Please, Albus thought. Please just get this over with.

“Your father made a request of me when I sat on his head. Your brother, too, hoped to follow in his footsteps. And yet all you ask of me is that I—”

I can’t ask you for anything. I don’t know what I want. I just know I want this done and over, please.

Albus never thought he’d be in a position where he’d be begging a hat for mercy. Magic was so weird. The hat didn’t immediately respond, and Albus began to wonder if he had somehow offended it and, if he had, what it would do.

“On the contrary,” the hat finally spoke again, “I believe you know exactly what you want.”

And before Albus could wonder what that even meant, the hat announced its decision.

“SLYTHERIN!”

The anticipation in the hall burst, but no one made a sound. No one clapped, no one cheered, no one even bothered to whisper. The silence wrapped around Albus’s neck and choked him, heart beating wildly against his ribcage. The Sorting Hat had done just as he asked. His sorting was done. It was over. And he was now in—

“Slytherin?!” a girl exclaimed from the Gryffindor table. She clamped her hands over her mouth as it echoed off the tall ceiling. Albus’s face burned. He didn’t — couldn’t — look over at the table lest he make eye contact with Rose or — even worse — James. Even with the girl’s verbal surprise, no one else dared to utter a word. But their eyes, blown wide and following his every move, said enough. He tried not to stumble as he made his way to the Slytherin table, wishing now more than ever that he could just disappear.

“Psst!” someone hissed when he was close enough. Startled, Albus shot his head up to see Scorpius grinning at him, gesturing to the empty spot beside him. “You can sit next to me!”

Albus was grateful as he rushed over and held himself back from collapsing into the seat. The next name was finally called as the ceremony continued, but the air was now tainted with confusion and disappointment and hostility and Albus swore he wasn’t projecting but maybe he was but the silence that followed his sorting was still ringing in his ears and the eyes of students and even some staff were fixed on his figure sitting at the Slytherin table hunched over and trying to disappear.

“Can you believe it?” he heard a boy farther down the row whisper. The Slytherin — his fellow Slytherin — sounded like he was grinning when he continued, “A Potter. In Slytherin.”

When the Sorting Ceremony finally ended and the Welcome Feast had begun, Albus Potter of Slytherin House didn’t eat a single bite.

Chapter Text

Scorpius kept nudging small bites of food onto Albus’s plate. He didn’t say anything throughout the entire dinner, no nagging Albus to eat or offering empty words of comfort. Albus appreciated that. He swore he could still feel student eyes burning into the back of his neck, their whispers slicing like tiny knives against his skin. He fiddled with his napkin to keep himself from looking up, twisting and tying it in elaborate patterns.

It felt like an eternity had passed before the food was cleared away and the headmistress, Professor McGonagall, stood to make an address. Though it was clear the results of Albus Potter’s sorting had even affected the teachers, including McGonagall, who not-so-subtly emphasised respect and unity not only among the Houses but throughout the whole Hogwarts population. The professors sat on either side of her nodded a bit too enthusiastically at the sentiment.

Albus wanted to hide.

“Slytherins!” a prefect called from the end of the table. “Stand up and follow me now. We’re headed to the dormitory.”

“Should we stick to the back?” Scorpius asked Albus. It was the first thing he’d said to him since he sat down.

Albus tried not to act surprised. The “we” seemed to echo in the space between them. He hadn’t expected Scorpius to continue keeping him company, not when he’d just spent the whole dinner refusing food and conversation. But he wasn’t about to turn him down either, not when the boy had shown him nothing but kindness since the moment they met. He didn’t truly want to be alone, anyway. Not right now.

Not yet trusting himself to speak, Albus simply nodded. A flash of relief seemed to pass over Scorpius’s face before he gestured for Albus to stand. The two lingered for a moment, letting the rush of students flow past them to the doors, before following the beacon of green robes. In the commotion of movement, Albus found it easier to duck under the whispers and curious, borderline judgemental eyes of the students — his classmates. He thanked whoever placed the House tables that Gryffindor’s was on the opposite end of the room from Slytherin’s. Not that he could avoid his family forever, but at least the current chaos meant that they’d have to shove through an entire mob of students to get to him—

“Albus!”

Which is exactly what he should’ve expected Rose would do.

She grabbed his wrist just as he reached the doors and yanked him to a stop. He nearly stumbled as he whipped around to find she had stopped them right in the middle of all the foot traffic, the very last place he wanted to be. But Rose didn’t care. Of course she didn’t. She ignored any grumbling as students shoved past her and focused her stare on Albus. It was the familiar, intense determination that she wore earlier that day when she was going on about choosing friends in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express.

That felt like a lifetime ago.

“Albus,” Rose said, her voice wavering with confusion as she continued to tighten her grip on his wrist. “This is wrong. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Around them, students slowed, not even bothering to disguise their staring as they watched the cousins’ encounter. Albus felt his face begin to burn, but the sensation ran deeper than his skin. Red hot needles sank into his nerves, into his bones, and with a sudden surge of adrenaline, he tore his wrist from Rose’s grip so violently that she physically jerked. The confusion in her voice melted into her eyes. “Albus—?”

“Not everything has to follow your ‘perfect’ plan, Rose,” Albus spat. “Get over yourself.”

Murmurs arose from the gathered crowd as Albus spun on his heel and stormed out of the Great Hall. He had to catch up with his House — Slytherin House, where the Sorting Hat had declared he belonged. He faltered for a moment when he heard someone running up to him, and then Scorpius Malfoy reappeared by his side. Albus hadn’t even thought of Scorpius waiting for him during Rose’s confrontation, probably having witnessed the whole thing, and a swell of shame formed in his chest. Scorpius said nothing of it, merely giving a reassuring smile, but one that was a bit too tight around the edges. The entire encounter definitely made him uncomfortable. Albus didn’t want to know what the countless strangers who had witnessed it were thinking.

He could barely believe it himself. He’d never snapped at someone like that before, and most certainly not a family member. The frustration and harsh dismissal in his voice, the icy venom coating his words, it sounded nothing like him.

But maybe that was him. The real Albus Potter. Maybe that was why the Sorting Hat placed him in Slytherin. It could see what Albus could not: the innate cruelty and temper within him. And now it was being exposed, put on elaborate display for everyone to see and judge.

Albus Potter. Doesn’t seem like much of a Potter at all.

The Slytherins were led down a set of stone steps, leading them deep into the dungeons. From the front of the group, the Slytherin prefect (whose name Albus did not know and frankly could not be bothered to learn at that moment) pointed out the few classrooms located underneath the castle before guiding them to a blank stone wall at the end of the corridor. “A password is always needed to enter,” they announced. “It changes every two weeks, so make sure to keep an eye on the bulletin inside before you leave. Otherwise, you’re shit out of luck.” They shrugged with a teasing glint in their eye, and a few chuckles arose from the group. The prefect turned back to the wall. “Worthy,” they said, and the wall slid open to reveal the passage inside. “The password’s always that simple,” they said as they stepped inside, gesturing for everyone to follow. “Easy to remember if you’re not a total knob.”

The crackling of a fire was the first thing Albus registered as he entered the Slytherin Common Room. It burned in a grand fireplace — a welcome addition given the chill of the dungeons — adorned with green tapestries. Silver thread woven throughout the fabric created images of wizard battles and snakes. The furniture all followed a black and dark green colour scheme, with leather couches in front of the fireplace and cushioned chairs sat around the dark oak tables scattered across the rest of the room. Three large windows lined the back wall, providing an underwater view of the lake that cast a green tinge inside.

“I kinda like it,” Scorpius leaned in and whispered to Albus. “Reminds me of home.”

It made sense. Scorpius came from a long line of Slytherins. He was exactly where he and everyone around him expected him to be. Albus, meanwhile, was a fish out of water — ironic considering he was the Potter dorming under the lake. This wasn’t like home at all.

His expression must have soured at Scorpius’s words as he timidly shuffled back and muttered, “Sorry, not the time.”

“No!” Albus exclaimed, then — relieved that his volume wasn’t loud enough to draw any attention — tried for a grin and said, “I just can’t believe we’re really under the lake.” Scorpius’s posture immediately relaxed as he chuckled.

“Yeah. Wizzo.”

“Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room!” the prefect announced from the front of the group. “Down these hallways either side of me are the dorm rooms, boys on the left and girls on the right. The doors are marked by year, so should be easy to find as long as you can count. All your stuff’s been brought up, too, so just make yourselves comfortable.” They suddenly snapped as though remembering something. “Oh! And don’t be alarmed whenever you spot the giant squid out the window. Harmless, really. Just passing by.”

With that strange ending comment, the prefect turned and marched towards the couches. The dormitory door opened behind the first years as the older Slytherins piled in. Friends talked loudly amongst each other, laughing and immediately heading towards their favourite hang-out spots. In the commotion, Albus couldn’t tell whether people were actually snickering at him or not.

“I think I’ll head to the dormitory,” Scoprius leaned over and told Albus. His eyes were flicking around nervously. “A lot of people here now.”

“Yeah, me too,” Albus said, and Scorpius again seemed relieved that he was accompanying him. Albus felt very much the same as the pair weaved through the mingling students. With a twinge of envy, he spotted several other first years already making themselves comfortable in their new House, lounging around the Common Room and freely talking with other Slytherins. He ducked his head as they turned in his direction.

The hallway was lined with torches, the light flickering against the silver plaques that numbered the dormitory doors. They came across the first year dorm quickly, and Scorpius knocked before entering. Albus found the gesture considerate but also slightly amusing. Scorpius seemed to sense this as he looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Force of habit,” he said sheepishly, and Albus waved a hand to dismiss him before following after him into the room.

It was, mercifully, empty except for the two of them. Six four-poster beds circled the serpent rug in the centre of the room, each lined with green sheets and dark velvet curtains. Trunks sat at the foot of each bed, and Albus quickly headed towards his. Scorpius’s belongings sat at the bed across from his, and Albus watched as he kneeled and began rummaging through his trunk as though checking all he had packed was still there. Albus felt no desire to sort through his stuff, instead climbing over the trunk and flopping onto the — his for the entire school year — bed.

“You’re not going to unpack?” Scorpius asked. Albus mutely shook his head. “I mean…” Scorpius hesitated. “Not that I’m here to tell you what to do, but… it might help distract you from… from the, uh…”

Sorting Ceremony hung unspoken in the air. Albus wanted to laugh. No, scream. Cry? No, not cry, definitely scream. His throat itched at the thought of unpacking his stuff, placing them around this dormitory and “making himself comfortable” as the prefect said. Scorpius was wrong. That wouldn’t distract him. That’d just draw his attention solely to his sorting. It would make this real. He was a Potter in Slytherin. He’d be living here for the entire school year. He’d be a part of this House for the rest of his school life. He’d be a Slytherin alum for the rest of his life. Do people still care about their Hogwarts House after they graduate? Apparently, because his parents — especially his dad — were never quiet about their Gryffindor pride and how the legacy ran through his mother’s family and how ecstatic they — especially his dad, pleased with his oldest son following in his footsteps — were when James was sorted into Gryffindor and the disdain with which they — especially his dad, why was it always his dad — spoke about their former Slytherin classmates and their Slytherin children and the legacy their families carried and now he was a Potter in Slytherin tainting his family’s legacy through the very House they hated—

Albus’s eyes stung. He didn’t bother replying to Scorpius, instead burying his face in his pillows. He didn’t care how childish he seemed. He just focused on blinking away the burning in his eyes, swallowing down any sound rising from his throat, and slowing the hammering of his heart. (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.)

“Sorry,” Scorpius apologised to silence. “Again, not my place to order you around. Just… take all the time you need.”

Albus squeezed his eyes shut and listened to the light shuffling of Scorpius unpacking. At one point, he felt the boy’s presence draw closer, and there was the soft rustling of something being set on Albus’s nightstand. It took several moments for him to turn over and open his eyes to see what it was, and he found a bulging white napkin teetering on the edge of the table. He reached out and took it, holding the fading warmth between his hands. Still, he didn’t unwrap it, only curling back up in bed.

When the chorus of voices from the Common Room began to draw closer to the dormitory, Albus shot up and yanked the curtains around his bed shut. Isolated in darkness, he hunched over and pulled a pillow over his ears. He could faintly hear the door opening and Scorpius offering a friendly greeting to their other dormmates, but he hummed to block out their responses. He began to wonder if the newcomers were gawking at his bed, aware of who hid behind the curtains, muttering bewilderments amongst themselves, before grimly realising that yes, of course they were, because Albus Potter was a Potter in Slytherin and had become the spectacle of the night all across Hogwarts. He pressed the pillow tighter against his head and laid back down.

As the rustling throughout the room trickled to a stop and the voices echoing through the hall faded, Albus faintly realised that he probably should’ve taken off his shoes before climbing into bed and most definitely should’ve washed before sliding the curtains shut, but he slipped under the covers anyway. When snoring began to fill the room, he finally unwrapped the napkin Scorpius had set on his nightstand. A bread roll from dinner that had long gone cold.

Something warm swelled in Albus’s chest, and he took a bite.

“Well what are you all waiting for?” Madam Hooch shouted. The first years were gathered on the castle lawn for their first flying lesson. Albus’s dad had told him all about his first flying lesson, standing up to the horrible bully Draco Malfoy and becoming the youngest Seeker of the century. It was an incredible thing to be able to fly, his dad always said. It made him feel free.

Now, Albus’s stomach was in knots as Madam Hooch beckoned everyone to the row of broomsticks lying in the grass, Scorpius Malfoy by his side. Rose was at the end of the row, standing tall and poised like always. The Gryffindor emblem on her robes seemed to glow with her confidence. The Slytherin emblem on his robes seemed to freeze over his chest. He dared not look at her directly, and she seemed to be acutely avoiding his direction as well. Considering his freak-out when she last tried to talk to him, Albus could hardly blame her.

He wished he was back in bed, shut-in by the curtains, isolated and hidden.

“Everyone stand by a broomstick,” Madam Hooch was saying, hands on her hips as she intensely surveyed the group. “Come on, hurry up.” Once everyone was situated, she stuck out a hand. “Stick one hand out over the broom and say, ‘Up!’”

Immediately, a chorus of “UP!” arose from the first years. No sooner was there a sudden swoosh! from the end of the row. Even before she cheered, Albus knew exactly who it was.

“Yes!” Rose Granger-Weasley exclaimed, broomstick clutched in her hand. She had gotten it first try. Just like Harry Potter. She looked over at Madam Hooch expectantly, grinning proudly, and Madam Hooch nodded at her. Rose beamed at the acknowledgement.

“Come on, now!” Madam Hooch told the rest of them, and Albus forced his eyes away from Rose’s victorious stance. “I’ve got no time for shirkers. Say ‘Up!’ Like you mean it!”

“UP!” the students commanded, and the rest of the brooms sailed obediently into their waiting hands. Next to him, Scorpius let out a small squeal of excitement as his broom levitated off the ground.

Albus’s broomstick laid motionless in the grass.

“Up!” Albus shouted, waving his hands as though trying to summon more magic. “UP!” The others were looking over now, grass empty except for his broom and air silent except for his voice. “UP!”

The broomstick laid on the ground and his classmates began to laugh.

“Oh, how humiliating!” Polly Chapman from Gryffindor said, eyes wide in mock sympathy. “He’s really not like his father at all!” She glanced around at her classmates, and they nodded in agreement. Then Karl Jenkins from Hufflepuff stepped forward, eyes alight with cruel ridicule.

“Albus Potter,” he said, pointing at him. “The Slytherin Squib!”

Albus’s face burned as the first years howled with laughter. Scorpius shifted uncomfortably, face screwed into an unreadable expression. Albus kneeled down and picked up his broomstick. Without magic. The “normal” way. The Muggle way. He dug his fingernails into the wood of the handle, as though trying to punish the broom for his humiliation.

Why didn’t you listen to me? Why couldn’t I do it? Everyone else could — Rose did, just like dad, so why can’t I?

“Alright, children!” Madam Hooch shouted, finally silencing the students. Only after she had let the laughter echo for several, excruciatingly long moments. Albus couldn’t help but think that she agreed with his classmates, also thought that he was a humiliation, disappointing, nothing at all like his father Harry or even his mother Ginny or even his brother James.

Nothing at all like a Potter.

“Time to fly!” Madam Hooch said, and she turned and marched further into the field. Albus stayed rooted to his spot as everyone rushed after her. They eagerly brushed past him, some going so far as to shove him just because they could, mocking jeers of “Slytherin Squib” accompanying them. Their laughter followed their movements, hovering across the field like mist. And once again, Albus was alone with only Scorpius Malfoy by his side.

The boy in question shuffled over uncertainly, lips beginning to form words before he swallowed them back. “Shall we stick to the back again?” was what he finally said. Albus took a deep breath and readjusted his grip on the broomstick.

“Yeah.” His knuckles were turning white. “We stick to the back. Always.”

Chapter Text

His other lessons weren’t much better. Every object placed in front of him stayed firmly in place, stubbornly remaining in its original form, immune to his commands no matter how loudly or strongly or desperately or pleadingly he said them. His wand was of no use to him either. He might as well have been waving a wooden stick around like a Muggle child pretending to be a wizard. It affected nothing, its tip remaining unchanged while all the other wands around him glowed and pulsed with magic. The most he was able to do was send a few pathetic sparks sputtering out the wand’s end, but even those instances were few and far between. The wand chooses the wizard, he was well-aware of that. But Albus wondered if his wand chose him because it could sense his incompetence and saw an opportunity to do no work. Or to humiliate him for its own entertainment. Maybe both.

Word of the “Slytherin Squib” spread fast. Albus no longer had to question if the snickers and laughter that echoed around him were directed towards him or not. It was. His classmates made that very clear. Pointing and giggling as he walked down the corridors. Grinning and jeering as he navigated the staircases. Mocking chants being sent his way through shouts, through whispers, through notes in classrooms, in the Great Hall, in the Common Room.

Albus Potter the Squib. Albus Potter the Fangless Snake. Albus Potter Stain on his family name.

He quickly discovered the dormitory to be his refuge. Spread out on his bed, curtains drawn shut, staring up at the dark green canopy above him and replaying every interaction, every expression, every insult and mockery thrown at him over and over again in his head. He retraced his steps, trying to pinpoint the exact place where everything went wrong, when the expectant and excited faces turned to taunting and dismissive. The Sorting Ceremony was an obvious one, when students and professors alike were stunned into silence at the Sorting Hat’s declaration of “SLYTHERIN!” But maybe it went further back than that. Maybe it all started on the Hogwarts Express when he stubbornly stayed in the company of Scorpius Malfoy, and the rest that followed was karma for throwing Rose’s plan of cementing themselves as popular awry. But maybe it went further back than that. Maybe his fate was sealed the moment he stepped onto Platform 9 and 3/4, side-by-side with Harry Potter, the Harry Potter, Saviour of the Wizarding World, a legacy he could never live up to. Maybe his fate was sealed the moment he was born.

“Knock knock?” Someone ruffled the curtains from outside. Albus sat up. “Want to work on the Charms essay together?” Albus shrugged off his robes and slid open the curtains to greet Scorpius Malfoy.

It was always like that. Whenever he didn’t have class or mealtime, Albus would retreat to the Slytherin dormitories and shut himself in bed. Probably not what his father meant when he told Albus to “enjoy himself” at Hogwarts, but Albus definitely enjoyed being away from everyone else.

Except Scorpius. The boy was in the dormitory almost as often as Albus was. Whenever he entered, he would say a friendly greeting towards Albus who, though hidden by curtains, would return — albeit half-heartedly. Albus would then listen as Scorpius shuffled across the wooden floor and hopped onto his bed, sometimes humming to himself. For a while, the two would sit within their own spaces in silence, broken only by the rustle of a page turning or the scratching of a quill against parchment coming from Scorpius’s side. Turned out Albus was right to compare him to Rose; the boy loved learning and threw himself fully into every assignment given. He surrounded himself in stacks of books and rolls of parchment.

(Albus knew this because he’d occasionally poke his head through the curtains to look at Scorpius across the room. He’d always duck back before the boy looked up, however. Though he doubted he had to act so careful. It seemed nothing could break Scorpius Malfoy away from his homework.)

Yet every night without fail, Scorpius moved his supplies to the carpet and approached Albus to ask if he wanted to do some work together. Albus knew this was his way of getting him out of bed and into some form of human socialisation, but he still appreciated it. He appreciated a lot of the things Scorpius did. He appreciated how the first night Scorpius approached him with that question, he had seemed relieved and even a little excited when Albus slid back the curtains and agreed to join him on the carpet. He appreciated that Scorpius never asked about his day or how his classes were going or if his first year at Hogwarts was anything like he had expected or hoped it would be. Instead, their conversation focused on whatever work they were doing as Scorpius offered Albus a little help (actually a lot, Scorpius was much smarter than Albus) and then, when that got boring, they spoke about everything else. Which animals they could beat in a fight. How they still didn’t get the hype around Quidditch. Albus taught Scorpius some origami, and the two wasted several rolls of parchment making paper planes and flying them across the room.

As Albus settled down with Scorpius to write their Charms essays (which he still hadn’t started), he realised that these times with Scorpius were the only times he ever really smiled. Or laughed. Had fun. He didn’t know how that made him feel.

“Do you know what you’re writing about?” Scorpius asked him, pulling out his already finished draft.

“Haven’t thought about it, really,” Albus shrugged. “Can’t I just copy your topic?”

Scorpius gave him a deadpan stare. “This is the fourth time you’ve done this,” he said.

“Fifth time if you count the reflection we had to write up for Transfiguration.” Scorpius continued staring, clearly unimpressed. “C’mon! Everyone knows I’m rubbish at magic anyway. Why should the Slytherin Squib bother writing about something he can’t even do?”

He wasn’t being dramatic. It was true. One of their first Transfiguration lessons was turning a match into a needle. Very simple, straightforward spell that everyone got nearly instantly. Except for Albus Potter, Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, Stain on his family name, who merely succeeded in causing the match to roll across the desk and fall onto the floor. He couldn’t even make it burst into flame, which still would’ve been humiliating, but at least it would’ve been something grand.

(“Even objects can’t stand to be in his presence!” Yann Fredericks from Gryffindor had exclaimed. Professor Wittebane, however, did nothing to stop him or the swell of laughter that erupted from the class. He only walked over and picked up Albus’s match, placing it back on his desk with encouragement through a tight smile to try again.

He did eventually succeed. No one cared about that, though.)

Something in Scorpius’s expression shifted. He glanced back down at his essay, but he seemed to stare past it in contemplation. Albus was about to say never mind, that he’d figure it out, that he was just being stupid, when Scorpius looked back at him with a downturned mouth and saddened eyes.

“Don’t call yourself that,” he said. “You’re not a Squib. You just need more practice, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He then handed Albus his essay, who took it after a moment of stillness.

“I think the whole Hogwarts student body will disagree with you on that,” he replied, trying to lighten his voice to make his statement a joke. Scorpius’s frown somehow deepened.

“Don’t listen to them. What do they know, anyway?”

He opened a Charms textbook and began to flip through it. Albus watched him for a moment before shifting in his place on the carpet and beginning to read through Scorpius’s essay. It was brilliant as always, and Albus began making note of all the important ideas Scorpius had included when he noticed scrawled writing in the bottom corner. It was messy, clearly done in a rush, and so very clearly not Scorpius’s handwriting. Albus brought the parchment closer to his face and squinted to make out the letters.

Essay by: Dark Lord in Training

“What is this?” he asked before he could stop himself. Scorpius glanced up, but stiffened when he saw what Albus was referring to. He quickly lowered his eyes again and feigned interest in the textbook.

“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just someone’s idea of a joke.”

“Did you see who wrote it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters, Scorpius. They shouldn’t be saying any of this in the first place. The rumours are complete rubbish!”

“Nobody cares,” Scorpius said with a bark of forced laughter. “All anyone sees is a convenient way to get a laugh. Truth has no place in jokes.”

“Have people been bothering you about it?” Albus asked after a moment. “How long—?”

“Are you nearly done with my essay? I have to proofread it.”

Albus may have been daft in all things magic, but he surely knew how to take a hint. He passed the parchment back to Scorpius, who picked up a quill and began going over his essay. Albus watched his eyes, the grey now hardened like ice, scanning the words intently as he made marks in several places. His shoulders were stiff as he hunched over, as though trying to make himself as small as possible. As though trying to hide.

Albus knew a thing or two about hiding. But instead of saying anything more on the matter, he brought out his own parchment and dipped his quill into the inkpot. “If I don’t get high marks on this, I’m blaming you,” he teased, and felt a sense of pride when Scorpius snorted.

“That would be entirely your own fault,” he said, lips quirking up into a smile. Albus smiled too.

Rose hadn’t talked to him since their first night at Hogwarts. She hadn’t approached him since that disastrous attempt after the Welcome Feast. As far as Albus knew, his cousin hadn’t so much looked in his direction since then.

It was odd, especially since she had made a whole show of proclaiming that she and Albus were related. But back then — before his sorting, before his magical humiliations, before the nicknames and the snickers and the pointing and laughing at his expense — he was a valuable tool in Rose’s plan of popularity. More accurately, his name was a valuable tool in Rose’s plan of popularity. Now his name was only affiliated with failure, incompetence, Squib. Rose knew it would be detrimental to her social status if she affiliated herself with him, with all those nicknames and perceptions. And Albus knew it too. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

In her defence, Albus hadn’t exactly been making an effort to speak with her either. Quite the opposite, in fact. He avoided Gryffindor Tower like the plague, ducking his head whenever he entered and exited the Great Hall so he wouldn’t be tempted to glance over at the Gryffindor table. He even sat with his back towards that side of the room, taking any and all measures necessary to ensure he didn’t accidentally make eye contact with Rose or James.

He hadn’t seen his brother much, either. Though even if they had happened to cross paths, Albus wouldn’t know. He always kept his eyes to the ground, walking swiftly without stopping for anything, dodging and weaving through the crowds of students and professors and ghosts (though Albus could technically just walk through them, he really preferred not to) that filled the castle corridors. He never strayed from his route, heading dutifully between classes for nothing else but the promise of refuge hidden within his canopy bed. People may insult him in passing, but everyone seemed to have learned from Rose to not directly confront him.

“Hey, Al!”

Correction: everyone but James Sirius Potter seemed to have learned from Rose to not directly confront him.

Lunch had been an uneventful affair. Albus had forced gulps of pumpkin juice and bits of stew down his throat, wrapping up a bread roll to take with him. It had become a habit ever since his first meal at Hogwarts, when Scorpius had saved him a roll after the disastrous Sorting Ceremony. He’d often find his stomach growling after meals, so it was nice to have something. Of course, the obvious solution would be to eat more during the actual meal, but that would mean spending more time in the Great Hall surrounded by Hogwarts students and staff and the occasional flying ghost and Albus would really rather limit his time in there as much as possible.

Speaking of Scorpius, he was unusually absent from lunch that day. Albus didn’t realise just how vital the boy’s presence was to his whole “enjoy himself at Hogwarts” thing until the seat next to him sat void for the duration of the lunch hour. Granted, Albus didn’t stay the whole time (he never did), but that never mattered before because Scorpius had always been there.

Maybe that was why he felt more on-edge than ever as he made a rush to leave. But apparently he didn’t have much luck when it came to leaving the Great Hall because as soon as his toe crossed the threshold of the doorway, someone reached out and tugged on his sleeve. At least this family member had the decency to slide them both to the side, slightly obscured by the looming shadow of the open doors.

“Hey!” James said, quickly letting go of Albus’s sleeve as he grinned at his little brother. His wide smile was the same as ever, but his eyes were frantically scanning Albus up and down as though checking for damage. It was unnerving to say the least. “Haven’t seen you around much,” he continued, hands on his hips. “How… How are things?”

“Fine,” Albus answered curtly. James seemed to falter slightly, exhaling an awkward laugh as he glanced around. Albus didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just he would really like to not be there and the Gryffindor emblem on James’s robes seemed to roar in mocking his Slytherin one and everything everyone’s been saying about him came rushing around his head and James must have heard something because who didn’t at this point so why would he risk his perfect Potter image by talking to the Slytherin Squib/Fangless Snake/Stain on his family name?

“Good, that — that’s good,” James said, nodding slowly. He ran his tongue over his teeth before forcing out, “Slytherin been treating you well, then?”

There it was. Albus felt something twist in his gut. James had spent the whole summer teasing him relentlessly that he might be sorted into Slytherin, and now that he actually was, suddenly he wanted to act all nice about it? Albus wished he would just pick a side and stick with it. At least he’d know that James’s teasing would be in good faith.

“It’s been fine,” Albus answered, picking at the napkin in his pocket. “It’s all been… fine.”

“That’s great!” James beamed, entirely too happy for Albus’s lukewarm responses. “Really, Al, that’s… really good. I want you to be happy here.”

“Yeah, you and Dad both…” Albus muttered, glancing away. People were starting to notice them, whispers already beginning to spread across the tables. Because apparently James Potter speaking with his younger brother was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Hey.” Albus startled as James placed a hand on his shoulder. He had never seen his older brother look so serious, but the way his eyes softened as they stared into Albus’s reminded him of their mother. He missed his mother. “Dad just cares about you, you know that? And I do too. I mean it when I say I want you to be happy. So… If these people are bothering you—”

“I don’t need you to do anything, James,” Albus said, jerking out of his hold. “I don’t need my big, strong, Gryffindor brother to save me. I told you everything’s fine.”

“I don’t like hearing them talk about you like that!” James said, and Albus was surprised at the genuine anger behind his words. “It’s wrong, Albus. They’re being such assholes when they don’t even know you at all!”

The whispers were starting to rise in volume. Albus risked a glance over to find heads craning in their direction, especially from the Gryffindor table. They suddenly whipped away, and Albus turned back to find James glaring heatedly in their direction, any trace of his usual carefree and humorous demeanour gone as he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. Albus would’ve found this intimidating too if he didn’t live with the guy and knew he could barely operate a toaster.

“Just focus on your own life, James,” Albus said. “Don’t get dragged down with me.”

“You’d never ‘drag me down,’ Al,” James said, offended. For what reason, Albus didn’t know. “We’re family! Why would I ever think that?”

“And somehow, the Slytherin Squib got his wand stuck in the floorboards!” Yann Fredericks cackled in the corridor, a pattering of footsteps drawing closer to the Great Hall. “How does that even happen?”

“I almost feel sorry for him,” Polly Chapman said, fake pout in her voice. “It must be hard being the Potter family disappointment.”

“Hey, you two. At least you don’t have to deal with the embarrassment of being related to him.”

Albus wrapped his hand around the bread roll in his pocket. He heard James take a sharp inhale as they both turned expectantly towards the doors. Sure enough, Rose Granger-Weasley strolled in, looking between her two Gryffindor companions as they all laughed.

“It’s whatever,” she was saying, rolling her eyes with a careless shrug. “We’re never seen with each other anyway, thank Dumbledore. I have you guys, and he has…” She paused dramatically, glancing around wide-eyed before leaning in and whispering, “The Malfoy boy.”

Yann and Polly shrieked. “Don’t say his name!” Polly hissed, though her dramatised scared persona was ruined by her incessant giggling. “You might summon him.”

“You think the Squib’s hoping the Dark Lord in Training will give him real magic once he’s come to power?” Yann asked, grinning widely. “That’s probably the only way he can become a true wizard!”

“Merlin’s beard, that’s depressing!” Rose exclaimed as the trio broke into roaring laughter once more, clutching her two friends’ arms as she began to steer them towards the Gryffindor table.

Then she looked over her shoulder and the smile dropped from her face.

Albus’s grip on the roll in his pocket tightened.

Yann and Polly had stopped laughing too, looking at Rose in confusion before following her gaze and meeting the eyes of the Potter boys. Yann sucked in a breath. Polly looked between the boys and their cousin in a vague embarrassment.

“James!” Rose finally said, stepping away from Yann and Polly as she forced a smile. “And Albus. Hi! Why are you two standing in the corner like those emo Muggles—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rose?” James snapped. Albus couldn’t even feel any sort of satisfaction as Rose snapped her mouth shut and flinched. He could feel Yann and Polly staring holes into the top of his head as he looked towards the ground. “You’re seriously doing this too?”

“Doing what?” Rose asked, again having the audacity to play innocent. “We were just messing around—”

“That’s what you’re calling it?!” James barked out a laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

For once, Rose was rendered speechless. She opened and closed her mouth repeatedly, but no words came out. James scoffed and shook his head at her before shooting his gaze towards Yann and Polly shifting idly in the background. “And you two!” he shouted. “Keep my brother’s name out of your pathetic first-year mouths! Got that?”

His volume had garnered even more attention than before, conversations tapering off as everyone craned their necks to see James Potter, first-born prodigal son of Harry Potter, standing up to his fellow Gryffindors bravely and justly, just like his father. Rapid footsteps began to approach them, and Albus’s stomach dropped when he realised who it was.

“What’s going on here?” Neville Longbottom, Herbology professor and Head of Gryffindor House, asked as he looked between the four. He focused on James, who gave an indignant shrug.

“Just doing what any good family member would do,” he said, staring pointedly at Rose as he said that. Rose’s nostrils flared as Neville turned his attention towards her. Albus figured this was the closest Rose had gotten to a scolding since arriving at Hogwarts.

“Rose?” Neville said, tone calm and professional but holding a questioning, concerned gleam in his eyes. Rose took a deep breath and squared her shoulders back, standing tall and proud and confident as always.

“There truly is no problem, Neville,” she said. “It’s all in good fun, right?” She turned back to ask Yann and Polly, who nodded and chimed in with their own, “Yes, just jokes, Professor.” James loudly scoffed, but Rose turned back around before he could speak and continued, “My cousins just misinterpreted what we were saying is all, but we’ve settled the misunderstanding.”

James muttered something about “two-faced liars” under his breath and Rose shot a dark glare at him, but Neville wasn’t looking at either of them. Now he was looking at Albus, who had made the mistake of glancing up and accidentally meeting his godfather’s eyes. He watched as a flash of understanding quickly chased away the confusion, and Neville released a soft breath as he stared at Albus. He was a smart man. He understood what started this “problem” and who would continue to start “problems” because that’s what all Slytherins do, especially the one who single-handedly destroyed his family legacy and name and now apparently the very relationships within the family all due to his own pathetic incompetence who deserved nothing but scorn and pity.

Neville stared at him with pity. Albus Potter, the Potter family’s greatest problematic disappointment. And everyone, including the staring students and professors alike, knew it.

“Albus!” Neville called as James stepped forward and shouted, “Al, wait!” But Albus didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He felt the bread roll come apart in his hand as he continued squeezing it, hard, and sped out of the Great Hall. The Gryffindor trio’s taunts circled through his head as he made his way down into the dungeons, but Rose’s voice grew to be the loudest. Her words weren’t new nor surprising, but it stung worse than Albus cared to admit. He was well-aware that any connection to him wouldn’t be any good for Rose’s popularity at Hogwarts, and obviously their last interaction wasn’t all that pleasant, but he never expected to hear his own cousin speak so negatively of him. As he threw himself onto his bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if Rose had always thought these things about him all through their childhood: that he was an embarrassment, pathetic, not a true wizard (whatever that meant), a burden to share blood with.

And the way she talked about Scorpius Malfoy… In hindsight, not too surprising considering her hostility towards him when they first met, but he still couldn’t believe that she would play into the rumours like she did and actually find amusement in it. Albus couldn’t quite believe that his cousin, Rose Granger-Weasley, could be so cruel.

Albus sat up and looked across the room. Scorpius’s bed was neatly made, blankets tucked in and pillows propped up and mattress empty. If he wasn’t hiding out here, then perhaps he was studying in the library. Albus went to close the curtains when he noticed something dangling off of Scorpius’s nightstand. It was a string of brown twine, the kind they used to tie parchment into scrolls for—

He knew where Scorpius was.

Albus jumped up and didn’t even bother resisting the urge to run. He didn’t stop until he was bounding up the stairs to the Owlery, and he came to a stop as he reached the landing. A rush of relief washed through him as he spotted the familiar head of silver-blond hair. Scorpius was sitting cross-legged near one of the landings, and Albus noticed with a frown how his belongings were strewn around him. His shoulders were hunched as he waved his wand across the inside cover of a book, a swirl of black ink floating into the air before splattering carelessly on the stone ground.

“Scorpius?” Albus said, and the boy startled, slamming the book shut as he sat up.

“Albus!” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Hi! Um, what are you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same.” He looked over the mess surrounding Scorpius, who began to not-so-discreetly shove them all behind him, out of Albus’s view. “You weren’t at lunch. I got worried.”

Scorpius blinked, seemingly taken aback by this confession, before forcing a smile that didn’t at all reach his eyes. “No need to be worried!” he chirped. “Everything’s a-okay!” Albus just stared as Scorpius continued to push all his stuff aside. “Just wanted to send a quick letter to my parents. No big deal! Mum’s been pestering me to tell her all about my first year so far anyway, so I figured I better get that written and sent, y’know!”

“You’re rambling.” Scorpius sputtered.

“N-No! I’m not — I’m not rambling! Just simply explaining my actions.” He suddenly raised a finger, “Which I shouldn’t have to do because I’m not doing anything wrong. No one’s doing anything wrong! I just said everything’s a-okay, and everything’s a-okay, so really everything’s—”

“Have people been bothering you about the rumour?” Albus asked. “Writing ‘Dark Lord in Training’ on your essay the other day… It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

“Why would it be worse?” Scorpius asked, though he looked away from Albus and made a move to open his bag and stuff everything inside it. “I already told you that was nothing to worry about, just someone making a joke—”

“It’s not a joke!” Albus yelled. Scorpius stopped. Albus ran a hand down his face. Scorpius still wouldn’t look at him. “It’s not a joke,” Albus repeated softly this time. “It’s just cruel. We both know it. And you already know what everyone’s saying about me — I mean, you were there when it all started. And you’ve done nothing but be there for me, so why…” Ignoring the way his stomach began to fill with butterflies (why was he so nervous to say this?), he took a deep breath and asked, “Why won’t you let me be there for you?”

There was silence except for the rustling of owls all around them. Then Scorpius sighed, defeated, and silently passed him another one of his books. Slowly and gently, Albus took it and opened to the inside cover.

Property of: Dark Lord in Training

“There’s more,” Scorpius said, idly shifting through the rest of his books and parchment. “‘Voldemort 2.0,’ ‘Voldemort’s Successor,’ ‘Dark Lord Reincarnated.’ Someone even inscribed ‘Scorpius Riddle’ onto my bag.” He held it up so Albus could see the markings on the leather. It looked like it had been burned into the material. “I told my parents that I was trying to carry too many books and the bag burst.” He shrugged as he set everything back down and fiddled with his hands in his lap. “Hopefully they’ll be able to send me a new one soon.”

With a strange rush of anger and sadness swirling through his chest, Albus took a seat on the ground beside Scorpius. “I don’t know what to say,” he managed to get out.

Scorpius immediately shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything.”

So Albus didn’t. Instead, he took out the napkin from his pocket and unwrapped it. Crumbs tumbled onto his trousers as he held out the smushed bread roll to Scorpius. The boy startled a bit and looked between the roll and Albus. Albus managed a smile and shrug. “You haven’t eaten.”

Scorpius smiled a little too as he took the bread gratefully, tearing off pieces before popping them into his mouth. When he was done, Albus held out his hand, and Scorpius neatly folded the napkin back up before giving it to Albus. “Have you written to your parents at all?” Scorpius asked as Albus slid the napkin back into his pocket. “I’m sure they’re anxious to hear from you.”

Albus chuckled humorlessly. “No,” he admitted, shaking his head. “They wouldn’t be happy with anything I have to say.”

“How do you mean?”

“It’s just…” Albus waved as his arms as though trying to summon the right words out of thin air. “My family loves Hogwarts. Dad especially. They talk about this place all the time, like it’s their second home, and for my dad it was his only home, and he was so excited for me to come here and make these fond, lifelong memories like he did, but I’m not and I can’t and I just don’t get what he — what anyone finds so great about this place.”

He felt himself cringe. Bloody hell, he sounded like such a brat. He never thought he’d let himself admit this to anybody. He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. For all the stories and excitement and glittering fantasies his family (really his parents — really his dad) had built up over the years, it was all for nothing. It had all been crushed the moment Albus was sorted into Slytherin. He didn’t like Hogwarts at all. He didn’t like his classes or his classmates or his professors or their workload or the dungeons or the Great Hall or the Quidditch fanaticism or the Slytherin Common Room or Hogwarts at all. It was nothing like he had expected or hoped it would be. He had been greatly disappointed and it made him angry. He just didn’t know at who.

“I like the library,” Scorpius suddenly said. His mouth was curved into a faint smile as he stared out at the open sky. “It’s quiet and it smells like parchment — a sort of musty smell maybe, but I find it pleasant. There’s this table in the very back corner that I like to go to. It’s almost hidden within the Muggle Studies section, like my own secret garden.” He giggled on that last part. Albus gave a light chuckle. “I like being able to say I live under a lake. I mean, how cool is that?! And the giant squid is only slightly terrifying to look at. I dunno if others have named it already, but I call it Verne. After Jules Verne who wrote 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. I wrote home about it too. Hope Mum finds that amusing.” His giggles faded as he suddenly grew shy, staring down at his hands again. “And I like… I like hanging out with you, Albus. I mean, we both know that everyone else — well not everyone everyone, but a lot of the kids in our year — actually even upperclassmen get in on it — the point is!” He shook his head wildly and took a breath to compose himself. “The other students aren’t so nice to me. But you are. You’ve been nice to me since the beginning on the train. And I really can’t thank you enough for that, you know?” Finally, Scorpius looked back at Albus and smiled. “So… those are the things I like about this place. Is there nothing like that that you can write home about?”

A warmth spread from his chest through his entire body as Albus took in Scorpius’s words. The smile the boy was giving him was gentle and kind, like it always was. The way he always was. Even when Albus was closed-off, discouraged, clueless, pessimistic, Scorpius was always gentle and kind. Even in the face of facing his own bullies and their cruel “jokes,” he supported Albus’s plight through gentleness and kindness.

“Do you mind if I borrow some of your stuff?” Albus asked suddenly.

(Dear Mum and Dad,

Sorry I haven’t written. Things are already pretty busy around here. Hagrid says hi, by the way. He wouldn’t stop talking about leading you guys to the boats in your first years. You’ve always told me how beautiful the castle looked coming from the lake, and it was. I literally had no words.

The ride on the Hogwarts Express was pretty nice too. I spent most of it eating a bunch of sweets (sorry, Mum!), so it went by faster than I thought. Still can’t believe you and Uncle Ron drove all the way here, Dad. I think I would’ve gone mad.

Anyway, I made a friend. His name is Scorpius. He’s also in Slytherin (I’m sure you know by now that I got put into Slytherin), but we met on the train. He’s very kind and really smart. I feel a bit sorry because he’s always helping me with homework, but I’ve been teaching him origami so I think that evens out. His favourite so far is the paper fortune teller. I think he’s just fascinated by how Muggles imitate magic (even though there’s no magical properties behind this game whatsoever). He’s also determined to beat me in a paper plane race, but mine still always win, no magic necessary.

I do miss you both terribly. But please know I’m doing fine over here. It’s just like you said, Dad: the experience is what you make of it. Tell Lily I say hi.

Write soon,

Albus)

Chapter Text

At least this time, Albus was stopped trying to enter the Great Hall.

The rest of the afternoon passed without any major incidents. Albus was slightly worried that Neville was going to barge into one of his classes and drag him out to talk with Rose and James properly. Or that Neville would ambush him in the corridors, cornering him with Rose and James to force them all to talk. His godfather would only mean well — he always only meant well — but Albus really didn’t need any more humiliation that day or any day and getting a bunch of Gryffindors in trouble (especially since two of them were his own family members) with their own Head of House definitely wouldn’t go over well with the rest of the House and they’d go from just mocking him in passing to full-on hexing him in the corridor. Then he realised he was probably being just a bit dramatic and forced himself to go about his day as normal (failing spectacularly at every spell and sitting through the laughter that followed).

He still felt a sudden, rising panic when he heard someone call his name, heart jolting as he whipped towards the staircase. James Potter’s smile was apologetic, the same look he wore whenever their mother scolded the brothers for fighting. He was sitting on the bottom step and gestured for Albus to sit beside him. Albus tried to put as much space between them as possible without being in the way of those rushing down the staircase for dinner. James didn’t comment on it, only stretching out carelessly, either unaware or simply ignoring the sudden swerve of passersby as they avoided tripping over his legs.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” he said. He was grinning at Albus now, eyes alight with the familiar, oh-so-annoying mischief he was known for. “Neville wanted to talk to you himself, but I convinced him you would be more comfortable if it was just me.”

Ah, so Albus’s anxieties weren’t completely unfounded. His brother was clearly expecting a thanks, quirking an eyebrow as he leaned back on the steps, and Albus rolled his eyes. “I’m not saying it, so don’t hold your breath.”

“You wound me!” James cried, hands over his heart as he leaned his head back. Albus rolled his eyes again. The trickle of people around them slowed as conversation in the Great Hall swelled. James took a deep breath and sat up to look at his brother properly, and that was when Albus realised he had been waiting for the corridor to clear before saying what was really on his mind.

“I wanted to apologise,” James started, the glimmer of teasing gone from his eyes. “For causing a scene earlier. I just couldn’t stand hearing them — especially Rose of all people — talk about you like that. I mean, you’re my brother. It’s my job to protect you.”

“It really isn’t,” Albus said quickly, picking at a loose thread on his robes instead of looking at him. “I never asked you to protect me.”

“But you shouldn’t have to.”

“What if I don’t want that?” Albus exclaimed, shooting up with a sudden ferocity. James seemed to falter, eyes wide, and Albus ran his hands down his face. “Sorry, I just… I’m tired of being treated like a screw-up. I get sorted into Slytherin and all of a sudden people treat me like I’m faulty.”

“You’re not—”

“I know I’m not!” Albus nearly yelled before consciously lowering his volume. “But that doesn’t change people’s minds. And I don’t want you to try changing their minds either — it won’t help.”

“You can’t seriously be asking me to do nothing when my little brother is being bullied.”

“Why not? Why can’t you just act like you did before? Make fun of me for being in Slytherin? Say ‘I told you so?’ Treat me like you did over the summer?”

“I thought you were angry at me for all that teasing?”

“Since when do you care whether I’m angry at you or not?”

A myriad of emotions flashed across James’s face. Confusion. Anger. Exasperation. Hurt. Albus felt his chest tighten.

“You’re my brother,” James said, slowly, enunciating every word. “I’ve always cared.” Albus bit the inside of his cheek, hard, and turned away. “And I’m worried about you, Al. I can tell that what people are saying bothers you. I mean, you always walk with your head down, you rush in and out during meals, and if you’re not in class, you’re in the dormitory. I just don’t want you to think you have to go through this alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Albus said immediately. “I have Scorpius.”

He studied James’s reaction out of his peripheral vision. His mouth was drawn in a straight line as he seemed to mull over Albus’s words, but his expression didn’t turn sour at the mention of Scorpius’ name so Albus considered that a win. “You’ve made a friend in Slytherin,” James finally said. Something giddy bubbled inside Albus’s chest as he nodded, and he nearly sagged with relief as James finally smiled. “That’s good, Al. Great, actually. I’m happy for you, honest.” Albus finally felt himself relax, and he felt a shy smile creep onto his lips. He wrung his hands in his lap.

“Thanks, James.” He startled when James let out a triumphant laugh.

“Aha!” He clapped and pointed at him. “I got you to thank me!”

“That doesn’t count!” Albus was quick to defend, but James shook his head.

“Nope, you said it, doesn’t matter the context.”

“That makes no sense—”

“Lalalalala!” James had his fingers in his ears. “Can’t hear you anymore! You already thanked me!”

Albus resisted the urge to kick him down the stairs. “You’re so immature,” he groaned.

“What?! Can’t hear you after you thanked me!”

“I’m leaving.”

James’s laughter echoed throughout the Entrance Hall as Albus stood. He stumbled as James shot up after him and hooked an arm around his shoulders, ruffling his hair and ignoring Albus’s protests. “I promise I won’t cause any more scenes,” he said, tone softening as Albus smoothed out his hair. “And I’ll believe you when you say you can handle this. Just know that what people are saying is utter bullshit. You’re not a screw-up. Or faulty. Okay?”

Albus finally managed to meet James’s eyes and smile. “Okay,” he nodded. “And for the record, I forgive you. Even though you didn’t have to apologise. I probably made things worst by running off like that.”

James immediately shook his head, “Nah, none of that was your fault. I don’t know what’s up with Rose, but she’s being a total arse.” He suddenly quirked a brow as he glanced down at Albus. “I’m guessing you don’t want me to tell Mum and Dad about this.”

“Or Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron,” Albus confirmed. James heaved a sigh.

“Alright. I can keep a secret. C’mon, I’m starving.” He began pulling Albus towards the Great Hall, letting his arm fall from his shoulders when they reached the threshold. People, of course, glanced up when the two entered, and Albus felt the familiar desire to hide. But then James was nudging his arm and pointing to the Slytherin table, where Scorpius Malfoy had perked up and gingerly raised a hand to wave. Albus couldn’t help but chuckle as he waved back.

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, Albus Potter didn’t rush to leave the Great Hall. It had been a few days since his conversation with James, and even though the general Hogwarts population’s attitude towards him hadn’t changed, at least James was mercilessly teasing him at every opportunity again. A semblance of normalcy Albus could rely on (even if he was starting to get dizzy from the amount of eye rolling he had done). Still, he couldn’t forget the expression on James’s face, voicing his concern for Albus and the genuine worry coating his words. Albus didn’t want him to worry.

So even though he couldn’t stomach another bite of scrambled eggs and had already wrapped up a muffin to take with him, he flipped his fork around in his hand and stayed seated. This didn’t go unnoticed by Scorpius, sat in his usual seat beside him, who glanced over curiously.

“Are you finished eating?” he asked, and Albus shrugged.

“Pretty much.”

“But… you aren’t leaving?”

“Don’t want to just yet.” Scorpius blinked, clearly surprised, and Albus fought to keep himself from blushing as he glanced over and nodded at the spoon hovering mid-bite. “Finish your breakfast. Then we can walk to class.”

“Together?” Scorpius asked slowly.

“O-Only if you want.” Albus cursed himself for the stutter and shrugged again to appear indifferent. Scorpius pressed his lips together, but was evidently pleased as he nodded and turned back to his meal.

“Yeah,” he said, shoving another helping of cereal into his mouth and quickly dunking his spoon back into the bowl. “Sounds good. I won’t be long—”

“Don’t rush it,” Albus interrupted. “Gotta get used to sticking around here, after all.”

Scorpius nodded again, making a show of slowing his movements down as he scraped rouge cereal flakes off the side of the bowl. “No rushing. Got it.” Albus gave a short laugh, chin in his hand, as Scorpius chuckled in faint embarrassment and wiped a droplet of milk off his chin.

Albus turned his attention back to his plate. He speared an egg with his fork and let it hover for a moment before flicking his wrist downwards and watching it bounce against the ceramic. This was the longest he’d ever sat at the Slytherin table since the Welcome Feast, the longest he’d remained in the Great Hall since the disastrous Sorting Ceremony. Students chattered all around him, and he resisted the urge to perk up and attempt to listen in on their conversations to see if they were talking about him, if they’d noticed his continued presence, if it was shocking, if they had come up with any new nicknames for him or if “Slytherin Squib” was still as popular as ever. Instead, he focused on the sound of his own breathing (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.) and Scorpius’s crunching next to him.

He couldn’t help but glance over at the boy — his friend and wonder if he ever listened for the whispers and mockeries being sent his way. If Scorpius too walked the castle corridors with his head down, guard up, waiting for the laughter and chants of “Dark Lord in Training” or “Voldemort’s Successor” or “Scorpius Riddle.” How much these taunts affected him. If these taunts affected him at all.

A chorus of chirping resounded from outside, and conversation tapered off as the students perked up expectantly. Albus usually didn’t care about mail call. In fact, he was rarely ever in the Great Hall when it occurred. But he joined the other students in looking up as owls swooped in carrying letters and packages, diving towards the tables and dropping them off in front of their intended recipient. Beside him, Scorpius raised his hands as a brown-spotted owl dropped a bulging package into his hands. It was wrapped neatly in crisp white paper, tied with black twine. A slip of paper was wedged underneath the knot, stamped with the Malfoy family crest. Scorpius took the package into his lap and tapped it.

“My new bag,” he explained to Albus. He tried for a smile, but it barely reached his eyes. “Can we dash back to the Common Room so I can open it?”

“Sure,” Albus said just as an envelope bounced onto his plate. He jumped in spite of himself. He couldn’t help the smile that broke across his lips as he reached forward and picked up the letter. He’d recognize Ginny Potter’s handwriting anywhere, his mother having written his name in elegant, spiralling cursive letters across the front. He stuck the envelope in his pocket as Scorpius pushed back his bowl and went to stand. The leftover milk sloshed around with the movement, and Albus frowned as Scorpius hugged the package to his chest. “We’re going now?”

“Don’t want to be late for class,” Scorpius answered. “I’m full, anyway.” The paper crinkled in his grasp as his grip around the package tightened, his eyes flicking urgently between Albus and the exit. Having long finished with his own breakfast, Albus easily stood and followed Scorpius out of the Great Hall. He quickly glanced at the Gryffindor table as they left, and James was already waving to him, his own letter in his hand. Albus waved his fingers in a vague greeting, and something akin to relief melted into James’s grin. He turned back to his fellow Gryffindors as Albus hurried to catch up to his friend. “Your parents wrote you back?” Scorpius asked over his shoulder as they descended the staircase into the dungeons.

A smile tugged on Albus’s lips again. “Yeah.”

“First Hogwarts letter~” Scorpius sang teasingly, wagging his shoulders as they approached the wall. “How exciting~”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Albus said, rolling his eyes. Scorpius only wagged his shoulders again as he recited the password and the two entered the Slytherin Common Room. It was thankfully barren save for a few late sleepers rushing to get at least a little breakfast before classes, hair messy and uniforms askew. The two boys settled in front of the fireplace, letting the warmth of the flames chase away the chill of the dungeons. Albus brought out his letter from his pocket and flipped it around in his hands, grinning like an idiot. It felt silly to be getting so excited over a piece of parchment, but it was a piece of parchment that held the words of his parents, beautifully inscribed in the graceful handwriting of his mother. Why hadn’t he written to them more? He should write to them more.

Scorpius sat cross-legged next to him, resting the package in his lap. He didn’t move to open it right away, instead fiddling with the knot on top. Albus watched him for a moment before hesitantly asking, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” Scorpius jumped. “Yes, everything is fine — why wouldn’t it be?”

“You should just open it quickly if you’re nervous,” Albus said after another moment of Scorpius eyeing the package as though it were about to spontaneously explode. “Get it over with.”

He didn’t know how helpful that advice really was (he was never good at comforting people), but Scorpius nodded at his words. “I suppose you’re right…” he muttered before slipping the piece of paper out from under the knot and breaking the seal.

Albus glanced away to look out the windows, the ripples of the lake casting faint shadows across the room. It was nice to sit in the Common Room, he realised, gazing out into the depths of the Great Lake in front of a warm, crackling fire. All without the fleeting whispers and poorly disguised laughter and sing-song taunting that shot into his being like darts. So this is what his father meant when he said Hogwarts would feel like a home away from home.

“They don’t believe me.”

Scorpius was outwardly frowning as he fidgeted with the paper, a letter by the look of the black-inked cursive neatly written across the page. Albus sat back as Scorpius looked up with a grim smile. “The excuse I gave about my bag, I mean. My parents don’t believe it.”

“Did they say that?”

“It’s implied,” Scorpius sighed, looking back down at the letter. “They’re reminding me that I can still always talk to them even if they aren’t physically beside me anymore. I think we all know what that means.” He scanned the words again, then chuckled. “At least Mum approves of the name Verne for the squid. Apparently in her year, they called it Sir Squid. Love the alliteration, not so much the creativity there.”

“Your name is infinitely better,” Albus said as Scorpius set the letter aside and began undoing the twine. “And it actually has meaning.” Scorpius brightened considerably at the compliment, glancing at Albus over his shoulder.

“You should read Verne’s book, too. It’s fun.”

“I’ll add it to the list,” Albus said as Scorpius peeled back the wrapping. The brown leather satchel was nearly identical to the one currently stuffed under his bed in the dormitory, only this one was clean of any stains or burns. Scorpius ran his hand along the smooth material as though ensuring there were no obvious imperfections before nodding at the envelope still sitting in Albus’s lap.

“Are you savouring the moment?” he teased, and Albus shook his head at him before finally opening his letter.

Dear Al,

It is such a joy to hear from you! We probably scared the poor delivery owl by how excited we got. Don’t ever apologise for not writing often, your schoolwork comes first. We know how hectic Hogwarts can be (although we sincerely hope it’s much less chaotic for you than it was for us).

We know you were worried about being sorted into Slytherin, but we want you to know that we’re still so proud of you. Nothing will ever change that. You’re a brilliant child, Albus, and we know you’re going to do great things at Hogwarts no matter what House you’re in.

We’re so glad to hear you’ve made a friend! It sounds like you two have a lot of fun together. How have things been with Rose? You two may be in different Houses now, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends. Perhaps she can even introduce you to her friends. It’s good to create a strong circle outside your House. There are plenty of good people at Hogwarts, I’m sure you’ll find plenty. The experience is what you make of it, after all.

We love you and miss you loads. Keep your head up, work hard, and have fun. We can’t wait to see you again and hear all about your first year thus far. Lily has LOADS of questions for you (she misses you too, even if she refuses to admit it). We look forward to hearing from you again!

Lots of love,

Mum and Dad

Albus kept staring at it: the slight change in handwriting at the mention of Rose, the insistence on making other friends, the switch to first person singular with “I’m.” Any feeling of joy he had receiving the letter was slowly being chipped away by a nasty pit of… disappointment? Annoyance? Anger? Why was he getting angry? They had only meant well.

(But Albus knew exactly who had written this section. He knew of the writer’s true feelings. He’d heard them enough times. It was the whole reason he feared being put into Slytherin in the first place. His father’s influence stayed with him. The judgement of Harry Potter followed him.)

“What did they say?” Scorpius asked. “Anything bad?”

Albus startled slightly. He’d forgotten his friend was still sitting beside him. The friend that apparently wasn’t good enough according to the all-knowing Hogwarts expert Harry Potter. Biting back a frown, Albus folded the letter and slipped it back inside the envelope.

“Nothing bad. Just reminding me to work hard and stuff.” Scorpius smiled.

“And you thought they wouldn’t be happy with your letter.”

(They weren’t — Harry Potter wasn’t, but not for the reasons Albus had been worried about.)

“It’s a relief,” Albus agreed, trying to match Scorpius’s energy. If he could tell Albus wasn’t being completely genuine, he didn’t comment on it. He just hopped to his feet, clutching his new bag to his chest.

“I’m going to get my books and then we can go?”

Albus nodded, listened to his friend’s pattering footsteps as he walked off, and stared at the now empty spot by the fireplace where he had been sitting.

Chapter Text

The rest of the term dragged on just the same, full of magical fails and targeted jeers, which only served to fuel the annoyance that had been building in the back of Albus’s mind. Building since reading that letter — that one stupid section of his parents’ letter. So much for the “plenty of good people at Hogwarts” rubbish his dad wrote out. Had he ever considered that maybe people were “good” to him because he was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One? Who would be “good” to the Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, Stain on his family name? His dad really knew nothing, did he?

(Faintly he thought that he was being unfair. Overdramatic. But he was also too angry to care.)

At least he managed to get all his work done on time. In large part due to Scorpius, who was always patient when he sat with him, explaining the questions and encouraging him to continue working hard in completing them.

(Scorpius also had all the answers already worked out for easy copying-and-slightly-altering-so-it-doesn't-get-marked-as-plagiarism access. But no one needed to know that.)

Now he no longer had to think about school (if only for a few weeks). Classes had officially ended the afternoon before, and he skipped breakfast in the Great Hall in favour of an empty dormitory, dutifully packing his trunk for the holidays. As silly as it may sound, he was most looking forward to having readily access to a window again. Though living under a lake is cool in theory, it had only gotten colder in the dungeons as the winter season progressed, causing the windows in the Common Room to always be layered in thick condensation from the raging fire consistently burning in the fireplace. Funnily enough, Albus didn’t mind sleeping under several blankets. It was comfortable (though it made getting out of bed in the morning all the more painful). What bothered him the most was his inability to see the falling snow. He hadn’t even realised the first snowfall had occurred until other Slytherins rushed back into the dormitory after breakfast one morning to grab their scarves and shove on their gloves, practically quivering with excitement. Apparently there had been quite the snowball fight.

Not that Albus had been a part of it. He had spent that Saturday with Scorpius in the library, watching snowflakes gently flutter down from the sky out the window. Much warmer, less soggy. It was nice, so he had written home about it. But of course, this wasn’t “social” enough to please the “Hogwarts Expert.”

You may not be here at home, but you should still go out in the snow. You’re usually the first one out there during the first snowfall! It can also help you meet more people, catch up with your brother and cousins, finally meet some of their friends. That could be fun, right?

Albus glanced over at his nightstand, where the drawer held all of his parents’ letters. He had tried to keep writing to them, he really did, but with each one he felt less of the initial excitement he had when he first got a response and more of an impending dread at the thought of an envelope being dropped onto his plate at mail call. It was hard to look forward to these letters when they constantly reminded him that he couldn’t even conduct social interactions properly.

(They only meant well. His dad only meant well. But he had told Albus that his Hogwarts experience is what he makes of it, but apparently the “he” was referring to himself rather than his son because Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, resident Hogwarts Expert felt the need to suggest alterations to Albus’s Hogwarts experience because he found it unsatisfactory. Albus was unsatisfactory. He wondered if his mother felt the same. But if Ginny was letting her husband write these things, then surely she agreed with them? Maybe Lily too, certainly also Rose, and probably even James. Albus Potter, the Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, Stain on his family name, unsatisfactory Potter.)

He tore his eyes away from the nightstand and went to shut his trunk. He’d just leave those letters there. Out of sight, out of mind.

There was a knock at the door. Albus straightened expectantly as Scorpius Malfoy entered. His eyes lit up when he spotted Albus, a playful smirk on his lips. “And this is why we do our packing the night before,” he said. Albus glanced over at Scorpius’s bed, neatly made with his packed trunk sitting patiently on the floor. “That way we don’t miss breakfast,” Scorpius continued, handing Albus a wrapped napkin. Albus grinned as he took it.

“I would’ve skipped breakfast anyway.”

“You shouldn’t. It’s the most important meal of the day.”

“So I’ve been told.” Albus threw himself onto his mattress and unwrapped the napkin. He took a bite of the croissant inside and thanked Scorpius in between chews, who only waved him away.

“By the way,” Scorpius started slowly, busying himself by straightening out his bed curtains, “when we get to London, don’t… don’t leave right away.”

Albus quirked an eyebrow as he balled up the napkin and tossed it onto his nightstand. “Why?”

“I…” Scorpius pressed his lips together and turned so Albus couldn’t see his face. “I just… I have something for you.” He suddenly whipped around with a raised finger, “And don’t ask what it is, it’s a surprise!”

Albus blinked as Scorpius seemed to recollect himself, grimacing and turning away again while mumbling an apology. “There’s probably gonna be a whole family reunion on that platform anyway,” he said, fiddling with the clasp on his trunk as Scorpius risked a glance over at him. “We won’t be going right away, so I can wait.”

“It’ll be quick, promise.”

“It’s fine, Scorpius.” He gave his friend a reassuring smile, and Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief as he returned it.

The two spent time idly chatting about their holiday plans (the plans in question: staying home) until a flurry of activity started to gather throughout the dormitory. Slytherins were returning from breakfast to gather their belongings and head out to Hogsmeade Station. They took that as a sign to gather their trunks and follow. Scorpius dropped his trunk when they entered the Common Room and rushed over to the windows. “We have to say goodbye to Verne,” he said as he wiped away the condensation with his sleeve. He pressed his face against the glass as Albus joined him. The squid in question was calmly floating by, staring at the two boys. Albus found it slightly unnerving, but Scorpius was practically beaming as he gave a little wave of his fingers. “Happy holidays, Verne!” he shouted. Albus knew that had drawn attention and he definitely heard some snickers, but if Scorpius had noticed too, he didn’t show it. He watched Verne for a moment with a content smile before spinning around on his heel. “Alright, now we can go.”

As he made his way to their trunks, Albus turned back towards the squid. “Happy holidays, Verne,” he whispered before rushing to rejoin Scorpius as the two made their way out of the Common Room.

The Entrance Hall was loud, packed with students hugging their friends staying at school goodbye and hurrying out into the cold to catch the train. In the chaos of the crowd, someone slid up to Albus’s side and nudged his shoulder. “Bet you’re excited to go home, huh?” James Potter prodded, his red and gold scarf hanging carelessly around his neck. Albus huffed.

“Yes. Except for the part where I have to see your stupid face every day again.” James didn’t react to this jab, throwing a loose arm over Albus’s shoulders.

“If you start to miss the dungeons, I’m sure Mum and Dad will let you move into the basement.”

“Then you should move onto the roof,” Albus said, shaking James’s arm off. “It’ll be just like Gryffindor Tower.”

“And expose me to the elements?! How dare you!”

“You started it,” Albus mumbled before glancing ahead of him. Scorpius was very attentively staring straight ahead, though it was clear he was listening to every word of the brothers’ conversation. Beside him, James’s laughter faded, and he reached over to tap Scorpius’s shoulder.

“Happy holidays, Malfoy,” he said when he turned around. Scorpius seemed surprised, but nodded politely with a small smile.

“Happy holidays.”

“You could just call him ‘Scorpius,’ you know,” Albus whispered to his brother. James shrugged.

“Don’t know him as well as you, do I?” He ruffled Albus’s hair with a “See you at home!” and disappeared back into the crowd. Albus smoothed his hair back down as Scorpius glanced over.

“I suppose now you’re going to rant to me about how lucky I am to be an only child.”

“You are!” Albus exclaimed. Scorpius let out an exasperated sigh, amusement tugging at his lips, and the two walked side-by-side through the snow.

Scorpius was nervous.

That could be considered a slight understatement given how fast his leg was bouncing, the constant wringing of his hands, and his intense expression as he looked out the compartment window that told Albus he was very much contemplating throwing himself onto the tracks.

“Should I be scared of whatever you’re going to give me?” Albus asked amusingly, leaned back in the seat across from him. It was, like last time, only the two of them in the compartment. Albus was grateful for that.

“Wha—?” Scorpius startled at his question. “Why would—?”

“You’re acting like you’ve planned to hex me or something.”

“No!” Scorpius waved his hands frantically, “No, it’s not that, I swear! I’m sorry I’m so nervous, I’ve just never done this before — not that I’ve ever hexed anyone! I’d never hex anybody! I—!”

“I’m teasing,” Albus laughed, smiling easily to put his friend at ease. Scorpius took some deep breaths and readjusted himself in his seat.

“Right. That’s fine then.” He smiled as he managed to relax again, but the sudden opening of their compartment door caused him to practically jump out of his skin. Albus sat up and looked over, sagging in defeat when he saw who was dragging their trunk through the door.

“We’re almost to London,” Rose Granger-Weasley explained to Albus, shutting the door firmly behind her. “Our parents will ask questions if they catch us sitting in different compartments.” She pointedly ignored Scorpius as she plopped herself next to Albus, crossing her arms and legs. Her gaze was directed towards the floor, even as her cousin shuffled closer to the window, putting greater space between them. Though both her voice and expression were flat, Albus could tell she was uncomfortable. He wondered briefly if that indicated at least a little bit of guilt for her actions, but then she glanced over and said, “Wouldn’t want to cause any more scenes, now would we?” and Albus barely resisted the urge to throw her and her trunk out into the corridor.

Instead, he turned towards the window and shot back, “And show everyone what a snob you are? No, of course not.” He heard her take a sharp inhale, and he relished in the success of his jab. Then he noticed Scorpius slowly sinking in his seat across from him, and a sudden flare of guilt filled his chest instead. Then Rose spoke again, and annoyance replaced it.

“It was only a joke,” she said defensively. “You know that right?”

“You have your dad’s humour,” Albus snapped. “Which is to say none.”

Across from the cousins, Scorpius was reaching into his trunk.

“Well you didn’t have to bring James into it,” Rose was saying, and Albus nearly threw his arms in the air.

“I didn’t! And I asked him to stay out of it, so don’t even worry about that.”

“I know. He told me you asked him not to tell.” Rose’s voice had gone quieter.

“I didn’t ask him for your sake.”

“Still benefit, don’t I.”

A tense silence filled the compartment as Scorpius looked between the cousins nervously, arms wrapped around the book he had brought out. A million unacknowledged things swirled in the air between the two, and Albus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from asking. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

(Did Rose really feel that way about him? How long had she felt that way? Did she really believe the rumours about Scorpius Malfoy? Has popularity always been this important to her? Was it really that embarrassing to be related to him? Was Albus Potter truly that much of a screw-up?)

“Um!” Scorpius hesitatingly spoke up. “Do you… have any holiday plans, Rose?”

Rose didn’t even look towards him, instead turning her body to face the compartment door as she sharply answered, “The usual.”

“Ah…” Scorpius nodded. “Well… I hope you have fun.”

Rose didn’t even nod or hum to acknowledge this. Scorpius forced a nervous laugh and hunched his shoulders, looking down to the book in his lap. “What are you reading now?” Albus asked, leaning forward to show interest because he would be damned if he let Rose ruin what had previously been a lovely train ride.

“Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie,” Scorpius cheerfully reported, brightening considerably at Albus’s question. “I thought it’d be an appropriate read considering we’re… you know…” He gestured around them. “On a train. I’m only halfway through right now, but—”

“How have you not read that book before?” Rose interrupted, finally looking at Scorpius for the first time since she entered the compartment. Albus internally groaned at the expression she wore, eyebrows arched and a subtle smirk on her lips. The classic haughty look she got whenever she saw an opportunity to assert she was the smartest in the room. “I know it’s a Muggle book, but I first read it when I was seven and—”

“This is my fourth reread,” Scorpius said bluntly.

“Oh,” Rose stuttered, then immediately turned to face the door again. Albus bit back a snicker.

“I like looking for all the clues and foreshadowing and call-backs and such,” Scorpius explained. “I want to read it again just to annotate, but I might have to get a new copy for that. I hate writing in books.” Rose had gone back to not acknowledging his words, though Albus could see she was clenching her jaw as her cheeks took on a slight tinge of red.

“And how has your fourth reread been?” he asked Scorpius, enjoying the way Rose bristled up at his emphasis on the number. His friend immediately began flipping through the book and pointing out his favourite passages, and by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Platform 9 and 3/4, Albus had added another book to his reading list. The train’s whistle blew, and compartment doors immediately slammed open as students rushed onto the platform to the cheers and squeals and greetings of their waiting families. Rose stood as soon as the train stopped and grasped onto the door handle.

“Well come on, then,” she said, gesturing to Albus impatiently. Albus swallowed down a sigh as he got up and grabbed his trunk. Rose swiftly turned and stepped into the corridor. Before he followed, he looked back at Scorpius, who was slowly putting his book away.

“See you in a minute, yeah?” he said, and Scorpius shot up.

“Yes!” He nodded enthusiastically. “See you in a minute!” Albus smiled and followed Rose off the train.

“There they are!” Lily Luna Potter shouted as soon as the cousins stepped off the train, and suddenly she was in front of Albus, standing on her tiptoes as she peered at the Slytherin emblem on his robes. “Woah…” she muttered, reaching out to scratch her nail against the thread. “You really are in Slytherin now…”

“Hello to you too, Lily,” Albus grumbled, feeling his ears turn hot as Rose poorly hid a snicker behind her hand. Lily seemed to gather herself as she hopped back.

“It looks cool!” she exclaimed, and Albus could tell she genuinely meant it. The smile he was able to muster wasn’t completely genuine, but Lily didn’t seem to notice as she squealed and dodged his attempt to ruffle her hair, running back to their parents. Rose was quick to follow, and Albus mentally steeled himself before heading towards them as well.

“Welcome back, darling!” Hermione Granger cried as she brought her daughter into a tight hug. Rose squeezed her back before hugging her father.

“Rosie!” Ron Weasley laughed as he held her. His face suddenly grew serious as he stepped back and held his daughter’s shoulders. “How did you do at school?”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded, swatting his shoulder. “The girl just got back. Let her breathe.”

“It’s alright, Mum,” Rose said, standing proudly. “I got the top grades this term. And I’m certain to be top of the class at the end of the year.”

“That’s my girl!” Ron exclaimed, hugging her again. Hermione rolled her eyes, but was beaming as she stroked Rose’s hair.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, and Rose couldn’t have looked more pleased. Then she spotted her brother standing idly beside their mother, and she put her hands on her hips.

“Did you forget about me while I was away?” she asked playfully. Hugo Granger-Weasley tried to suppress a smile, but failed.

“Yup. I have no idea who you are.”

“You’re so not funny,” Rose said, but quickly dissolved into laughter when Hugo surged forward and hugged her. “I missed you. Did you get my letters?”

“Mhm. But you should’ve written more.”

“Hogwarts is busy, Hugo. I’m busy.” Hugo frowned.

“That’s dumb.”

“Hey!”

“We don’t use those words,” Hermione scolded as Ron kneeled down to his son’s level.

“Pretty soon you’ll be busy at Hogwarts too,” he said, grinning when Hugo’s pout melted. “Your sister will tell you all about it.” He glanced up as Albus approached, and he wondered if the smile on his uncle’s face seemed the slightest bit more strained at his arrival. “So will your cousin.” He stood and offered Albus a pat on the back. “Hey there, Albus. How are you?”

“Good,” Albus answered automatically, offering him a smile and nod. “It’s nice to be back.”

“Congratulations on making it into Slytherin,” Hermione said with a gentle smile, bringing him into a quick hug. “You’re going to do great things, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Aunt Hermione,” Albus managed to say, waving quickly to Hugo before finally meeting the eyes of his own parents. They had just finished greeting James when Albus arrived, and as soon as she laid eyes on her youngest son, Ginny Potter positively glowed.

“Al!” she squealed as she rushed forward and tugged him into a tight embrace. Albus’s trunk clattered loudly to the ground, but he didn’t care as he wrapped his arms around his mother and buried his face into her shoulder. He practically melted into her warmth as she held him, swaying gently back and forth. It seemed she had to force herself to pull away, but not before planting a kiss on his forehead and smiling. “Welcome home, darling.”

“Hi, Mum,” he said, which seemed like an utterly lacking greeting given her enthusiasm, but Ginny’s smile only widened at the sound of his voice. She caressed his cheek before stepping aside, and his heart lurched as he found himself staring directly at his father. He was suddenly all too aware of the snake on his robes, the dark green and grey scarf around his neck, an outlier among the lions and red and gold scarves, clad in the symbol and colours of the House that Harry Potter hated, that Harry Potter only had bad memories of, that Harry Potter was now forced to face again because his son had been sorted into it.

Then his father grinned at him, and Albus could pretend that his House didn’t matter.

“Look at you!” Harry exclaimed as he hugged his son. Albus leaned in and closed his eyes, trying to find that comforting, grounding presence he’d felt before he first boarded the Hogwarts Express back in autumn. That felt like a lifetime ago. “You’re growing up fast, aren’t you?”

“It’s only been four months,” Albus said in response to his father’s dramatics. Harry laughed as he stepped back and gave Albus a little shake.

“And I can’t wait to hear all about those four months.” Albus managed to smile at him, then stumbled as James jumped over and slung an arm across his shoulders.

“Ooh, yes. Let us in on the dungeon secrets…” He whispered that last bit into Albus’s ear, wiggling his fingers as though trying to be mysterious. Albus pushed him away.

“There’s no such thing.” James swiftly recovered and pointed a finger in his face.

“Or is that what you want us to think?”

“That’s just the truth.” James narrowed his eyes as he hummed.

“Suspicious.”

“You’re so annoying!”

“Boys,” Ginny warned, stepping closer to her sons. “Settle down.”

“Do Slytherins really sleep in the dungeons?” Lily suddenly asked, popping up in front of Albus.

“We sleep in a dormitory like everyone else,” he said, already feeling tired.

“But it’s in the dungeons?”

“Yes, Lily.” There was no reason for him to be feeling irritated by this. It’s just his sister.

“Isn’t it cold down there?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Sometimes.”

“So how—?”

“Okay, you guys,” Harry said, wrapping his arms around his family. “We’re all curious, but let’s save the Q&A for when your brother is settled back home.” Albus blinked as he realised the crowd his family had made around him, and he began looking around the rest of the station to see—

Oh.

Of course.

People were staring. His classmates were pointing him out to their families, whispering about Albus Potter, the Potter in Slytherin. Their family members stared after him, eyes wide and leaning down in urgent whispers to ask more questions. He really should’ve known better than to expect decency from the adult witches and wizards. They were the ones raising the Hogwarts students, after all.

“We should probably start heading out,” Ginny said to the group. The adults immediately nodded.

“Do you have all your stuff, Rose?” Hermione asked. When she nodded, Hermione continued, “Do you want to say goodbye to your friends?”

“That’s alright. We all already said goodbye on the train.”

“What about you, Albus?” Harry suddenly asked. “There any friends you haven’t said goodbye to yet?”

Expectant gazes fell upon him, and Albus bit his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Rose barely hide a scoff, already starting to turn around to walk off the platform. Any embarrassment was dashed as Albus turned definitively towards his father. “Actually, I—”

“Albus!”

If the crowds around them weren’t outwardly staring before, they definitely were now as Scorpius Malfoy approached Albus Potter, hands behind his back, his parents in tow. A smile immediately stretched onto Albus’s face as he stepped forward to greet his friend, who bounced on his toes in a nervous excitement. “You’re lucky,” Albus said. “We were just about to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Scorpius sighed. “I’m just — I mean, I swear this isn’t a hex, I just haven’t — this is new for me is all I’m saying, and—”

“Scorpion,” a gentle voice said behind him, and Scorpius timidly looked over his shoulder. Astoria Malfoy was smiling amusingly at him, nodding encouragingly at whatever her son held out of Albus’s sight. “It’s alright. Just give it to him.”

Scorpius seemed to breathe in his mother’s words, giving a firm nod back before turning to Albus with a new determination. “Here.” He brought his hands out from behind his back. “Merry early Christmas.”

And Albus was handed a rectangular gift, firm and heavy, wrapped neatly in candy cane wrapping paper and tied with a black bow.

“You can’t open it now because it’s not Christmas,” Scorpius said after a moment of Albus staring at the present in his hands. “But I hope you’ll like it. I’ve never had a friend to give a present to before, so… this is my first.”

Albus was legitimately speechless. He flipped the gift around multiple times, admiring the way the candy canes seemed to gleam under the lights, before looking up at Scorpius who seemed to cower with anticipation. “But I didn’t get you a present,” he blurted out. It was a response Scorpius clearly wasn’t expecting as he seemed momentarily stunned before breaking into meek laughter.

“It’s okay. I didn’t ask for one.”

“Neither did I, but you still…” Albus wordlessly gestured to his present, and Scorpius laughed some more.

“Well technically Mum went out and got these for you,” he dismissed, gesturing to the woman standing behind him. Astoria frowned and lightly prodded her son’s shoulder as though silently scolding him. Scorpius looked back at her and, when she raised an eyebrow at him, sighed and said to Albus, “It was my idea though.” Astoria smiled, pleased with this response. “Still, don’t worry about it! This was supposed to be a surprise, so I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

Albus looked back down at the gift and lightly fiddled with the bow. “Well… thank you.” He smiled at Scorpius, who was positively beaming at the warm response his present was getting. “Seriously, thank you so much. I’m excited to find out what it is.” Scorpius glanced excitedly back towards his mother, who was smiling just as widely as him. “And thank you, ma’am,” Albus said to her. Astoria was quick to wave him away.

“Oh, no need for that. It’s the least I could do to thank you.” Albus blinked.

“Thank… me…?” Astoria’s smile softened.

“For being friends with my Scorpion,” she said, placing her hands on her son’s shoulders. Scorpius leaned into her touch. Albus felt himself smile too. “It truly is a pleasure to finally meet you, Albus,” Astoria said. “We’ve been told so much about you from Scorpius’s letters.” Scorpius’s face turned a light shade of pink as he glanced down. A giddy feeling swelled in Albus’s chest. “Isn’t that right, Draco?” Astoria asked her husband.

Draco Malfoy had been standing slightly apart from the group, silent with his hands behind his back. Now that his wife called to him, he swiftly marched over to stand beside her. “That we have,” he agreed with Astoria, then turned to look at Albus. “It’s nice to meet you, Albus. Thank you for making our son happy.”

“Daaaad…” Scorpius murmured, face turning a deeper shade of pink. The giddiness from Astoria’s words bubbled over from Draco’s, and Albus found himself speaking before he could even think about what he was saying.

“Well, he makes me happy too, so…” He timidly shrugged. “No need to thank me, sir.”

Scorpius’s eyes widened momentarily, but then he finally relaxed into a soft smile, glancing at Albus through his fringe. Albus ignored the heat rushing up his neck as he offered one back. Draco looked between the two boys, a smile of his own quirking the edge of his lips, but his expression suddenly became stoic as he looked behind Albus. “Malfoy,” Harry greeted coldly, placing a firm hand on Albus’s shoulder to draw him back. As though he were trying to protect him. What would he need protecting from?

“Potter,” Draco said before turning to the rest of the group. “Good evening to you all.”

Ron mumbled a distant greeting as Hermione asked, “And how are you all doing?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Astoria responded. “Our apologies if we’re keeping you.”

“We’re just leaving, actually,” Harry interjected, still staring at Draco. He tugged on Albus’s sleeve, trying to get him to step back. “Holiday plans and all.”

“As should we,” Draco said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist.

“Scorpius?” Ginny stepped forward as the boy in question jumped. Ignoring Harry’s questioning look, she gave Scorpius a bright smile. “You’re very generous. Thank you for giving Albus this gift.”

“It was no trouble at all really,” Scorpius insisted. “I wanted to.”

“You’re very kind.” She suddenly leaned in closer. “And for the record, Albus has written us about you too.”

“Mum!” Albus hissed as she stood back. Ginny only winked at him as Scorpius hid a laugh behind his hand. Albus shot him a betrayed look and he only laughed harder.

“We do have to get going,” Ginny told the Malfoys, linking an arm through her husband’s. She subtly yanked to get him to let go of Albus’s sleeve. Harry did, dropping his arm as she smiled politely. “But we’ll see you come January, right?”

“Yes.” Draco seemed a bit stunned by her pleasantries, but he nodded anyway. “We’ll see you then.”

“Merry early Christmas, Scorpius,” Albus blurted out as the Malfoys began to walk away. Scorpius grinned.

“Merry early Christmas, Albus,” he said before suddenly gesturing to the rest of his family. “Merry early Christmas to all of you! I hope you have a happy holiday!”

“Right back at you, Malfoy!” James shouted, grinning like a maniac even as Harry scolded him for being too loud. Scorpius clearly wasn’t expecting such an enthusiastic response, blinking owlishly before laughing and resuming his exit. Then he whirled around again and pointed at Albus.

“No peeking before Christmas!”

“I won’t!” Albus said. “Now go!” Scorpius narrowed his eyes in suspicion before waving and heading off between his parents, a visible pep in his step. Astoria was smiling at him as she wrapped an arm around him and brought him close. Draco walked on beside them, hands clasped behind his back.

“Nice kid,” Ron observed. “Nothing at all like his father at that age, thank Dumbledore.”

“Now I wanna know what he got you,” Lily whined, peering curiously at Albus’s present. Albus clutched it close to his chest.

“If I have to wait, so do you,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her as she pouted.

“Can we please go now?” Rose asked, impatiently shuffling her feet. “I miss my bed.”

“Me too,” Hugo echoed, and Rose shot a deadpan glare at him.

“You’ve had your bed this whole time.”

“And I still miss it.”

As the family bickering started up again, the group began walking off Platform 9 and 3/4. Ginny nudged Albus’s arm a little, the arm that wrapped around Scorpius’s gift. “I’m glad to see you’ve made such a good friend already,” she said. Albus ignored the silence coming from his father walking a few paces behind him and smiled at his mother.

“Me too.”

Chapter Text

If Albus had known that coming home for the holidays meant a constant question-and-answer session, he would’ve written down his answers beforehand. That way, he could read them all out loud at the beginning of the night and avoid having to listen to the same curiosities from about ten different voices over and over again.

He tried his best to understand. There hadn’t been a Slytherin in his family before. No one knew how things worked for them. But really the only things that were different were the robes he wore and his Common Room. Everything else was the exact same. He was the exact same. Why was everyone acting like his sorting was some big, cosmic, existence-altering event?

(Because it was. Because Albus had single-handedly tainted his family legacy, the Potter name, leaving his loved ones scrambling to make sense of it all. How could he do this to them? Why couldn’t he be better? What use was he as the Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, an utterly disappointing Potter? He’d been a fool to expect peace away from Hogwarts, like he could ever escape judgement. To be himself was to be judged. Unfair, but that was life, wasn’t it?)

He’d been able to handle it at first. When it was just his immediate family, sharing a home with them again after several months, questions asked in earnest during conversation over dinner because they genuinely wanted to know how he was doing and they loved him and he loved them so he dismissed any irritation, any discomfort of being treated like the family outlier (and really he was so could he blame them?), sat up straight, and answered.

Ginny asked, “How are you finding your classes so far?”

Albus answered, “They’re alright. A bit of work, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Harry asked, “Slytherin House is treating you fine?”

Albus answered, “Yeah. Everyone just does their own thing, really.”

Lily asked, “So if you’re under the lake, what happens if the windows break?”

Albus answered, “We… drown?”

James asked (after dinner), “You’re really not gonna tell them the truth?”

Albus answered (after dinner), “They don’t need to know.”

But now it was Christmas Eve, and the Potters were stepping out of the fireplace into his grandparents’ burrow. Albus would be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that was dreading this trip. It would be the first time he was facing his extended family since his sorting, and if he’d learned anything from his time at Hogwarts, it was that Houses meant everything. Screw individuality or personality or morality or kindness or literally anything about him as a person, wizard, human being, his House was what defined him. And apparently, most people — including family — didn’t like that definition (even though they were the ones who imposed it upon him).

He barely slept the night before, alternating between staring at the ceiling and pacing throughout his room. Other than Rose, he hadn’t seen any of his other cousins at Hogwarts, but he was sure they’d heard the rumours about him. Of course they would have. Why wouldn’t they? He wondered what they thought of them, of him. He wasn’t as close with any of them as he was with Rose, but Rose had run off the second Karl Jenkins dubbed him “the Slytherin Squib,” so he really shouldn’t expect the best out of the rest of his family. His gut immediately coiled with guilt at that thought — this was his family for Merlin’s sake! Then he launched himself back in bed and buried his face in his pillows. He wondered if his cousins told their parents, his aunts and uncles, about the rumours. The name-calling. What James insisted was bullying. What was bullying, but giving it a name didn’t change the reality of his situation so why bother defining it.

“Should we come up with a code?” James asked, leaned against the bathroom doorway as Albus was fixing his hair. He pointedly ignored the way his hands trembled as he attempted to tame his curls.

“What d’you mean?” Albus asked, glancing at James’s reflection in the mirror above the sink.

“You know…” James quickly peered into the hallway and, upon finding no one there, continued, “In case someone asks you something you don’t wanna answer. About school. Slytherin House. The… the names and stuff—”

“It’s whatever.” (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.) “Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re my brother. Of course I’m going to worry.” Albus fixed his gaze on the faucet, watching the water slowly bead before dripping into the sink. “I can talk to the rest of our cousins,” James said when he didn’t respond. “Like I did with Rose. But nicer, obviously, since none of them have given you a hard time at school—”

“Don’t bring it up, James. Please.”

James looked like he wanted to argue, but then Lily popped her head in, demanding to know why her brothers were hogging the bathroom. Albus lowered his head and walked out, retreating to the refuge of his bedroom. When he turned to shut the door, he saw Lily speaking quietly to James, brows furrowed as she risked quick glances at Albus. James forced a smile and shook his head when Albus let the door shut. Resisting the urge to run his hands through his hair, he sat on his bed and kneaded his blankets between his hands. Ginny found him there half an hour later when Harry began calling from the kitchen that it was time to leave for the Burrow.

“Everyone’s so excited to see you,” she said as he grabbed his cloak, smiling soothingly.

I think that’s part of the problem actually, Albus thought, but just tightly smiled back at her. A puff of Floo Powder later (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.), he was met with a chorus of enthusiastic greetings from several members of his extended family. Not everyone had arrived yet, but the house was still a flurry of activity, pots bubbling in the kitchen and drinks already laid around the front room while holiday music was nearly overshadowed by overlapping voices, bright and cheery.

“Hello, my dears!” Molly Weasley shouted, eyes shining as she quickly hobbled over. Her ever-present warm smile only widened as her daughter stepped forward and hugged her.

“Happy Christmas, Mum,” Ginny said as her mother stepped back and caressed her face.

“Happy Christmas.”

“It’s wonderful to see you all!” Arthur Weasley exclaimed, leaning over to hug Ginny as Molly gave Harry a tight squeeze. “Happy Christmas to you.”

“Happy Christmas, Dad,” Ginny laughed as Harry quickly assured his mother-in-law that everything was going just fine at work. Molly seemed to relent, patting his cheek before turning to her grandchildren.

“Come in now!” she ushered, giving them each a hug as they slipped off their cloaks. “Make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be ready shortly.” When she saw Albus, she released a sigh and placed her hands over her heart. “There’s our other newest Hogwarts student,” she said, and Albus chose to ignore the way she avoided saying his House name. “My, you’re growing up so fast.”

“Merry Christmas, Gran,” Albus said through a shaky smile. Molly didn’t seem to notice, merely giving him a tight hug before shooing him off with the others. As he passed his grandfather, Arthur quickly tugged him into a one-armed embrace.

“I’m proud of you, Al,” he said, and Albus nodded against his chest. He stumbled away as Arthur suddenly went, “Ah, Harry, let me get that for you,” and gestured to the bulging bag his son-in-law was holding, filled with their relatives’ presents.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” someone else said, and the bag was taken from Harry’s grasp. Harry grinned.

“Teddy!” he exclaimed, bringing his godson into a hug. Teddy Lupin laughed, shifting the bag to his side so it wouldn’t bang against his godfather’s legs. “I didn’t know you were coming this year!”

“Yeah, well,” Teddy shrugged, “I wanted to see you guys.”

“More like he wanted to see Victoire,” Louis Weasley called from where he was sprawled on the floor of the lounge. His oldest sister kicked him on the shoulder from the couch, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. “What?” Louis said, unbothered. “It’s the truth.”

“No one asked you,” Victoire Weasley mumbled. Louis just continued sketching in his notebook. Teddy chuckled, slightly nervous, as Harry cast an amused glance in his direction.

“Well, I’m here, so—” He slung the bag of gifts over his shoulder. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry repeated. Teddy walked over to the large tree in the corner of the front room and began placing the Potters’ gifts underneath it. Ginny rushed to the couches where the rest of the family had gathered. Harry followed.

“Merry Christmas, Gin,” Bill Weasley said, hugging his sister tight. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Ginny replied, positively beaming. Bill stepped aside as Fleur Weasley rose from the couch to greet her sister-in-law. “How are you?” Ginny asked as the two embraced.

“Very well,” Fleur said, then turned to her oldest daughter. “It’s Victoire’s last Christmas as a Hogwarts student. Quite exciting.”

“Congratulations,” Harry told the girl as he greeted her parents.

“Thank you, Uncle Harry,” Victoire said, standing to give him a hug.

“Louis, stand before someone steps on you,” Fleur scolded her youngest.

“No one would step on me,” Louis argued. “They can clearly see me.” He stood anyway to greet his aunt and uncle.

“What are you drawing?” Ginny asked her nephew, gesturing to the notebook he had clutched under his arm. Louis shrugged dismissively.

“Just random doodles. Nothing exciting.”

“Why don’t you draw the tree?” Dominique Weasley suggested, nursing a mug of steaming tea.

“But not everyone is here yet. The present arrangement could change.”

“No one said it had to be accurate,” Victoire said. Dominique calmly took a sip from her cup.

“Focus on the decorations, then. You can draw the presents last.” Louis seemed to consider his sister’s idea as he settled back on the floor, drawing his legs up so the Potters could greet the Granger-Weasleys on the other side of the couches.

“Made it here before you,” Ron lightly teased his sister. She shoved his arm.

“Oh whatever. We’re both here before Percy at least.”

“He’s going to love that, I’m sure,” Hermione mused as Lily plopped next to Hugo.

“Five Galleons that Molly is gonna be pissed as hell,” James whispered to Albus. Albus rolled his eyes.

“We all know she’s going to be.”

“Exactly. Easiest five Galleons ever.” Albus shoved him away as, behind him, Rose patted the cushion next to her. Albus blinked at her for a moment before gingerly taking a seat.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, looking anywhere but his eyes. Albus felt his chest tighten.

(In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.) “Merry Christmas.”

James sat on the armrest of the couch, eyeing Albus over Rose’s head. Albus shook his head at him, and though visibly displeased, James nodded. He then smirked at Teddy, who had rejoined the group and settled next to Victoire, draping an arm across her shoulders. He waggled his eyebrows as Teddy narrowed his eyes at him.

“So how’s Hogwarts treating you, Albus?” Bill asked. All eyes turned to him as Albus internally sighed.

Here we go.

“It’s been fine,” he said, unconsciously wringing his hands. “There’s a lot of essays, though.” This comment earned him a few chuckles. Victoire leaned towards him.

“Trust me, you’ll be wishing school was this easy in the next few years,” she said. “Essays are a pain, but practising magic gets exhausting real fast.”

“She’s being dramatic,” Louis said from the floor, rolling out of the way as Victoire kicked at him again. “It’s not that bad. Don’t let her scare you.”

The thing was, Albus knew exactly what she was talking about. He was already tired of practising spells (albeit for a completely different reason) and he hadn’t even finished his first year. He didn’t say any of that though, instead nodding at his cousins as Fleur asked, “Do you like your classes?”

“Yeah, they’re alright,” Albus shrugged. His aunt waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, she picked up her drink from the coffee table as a way to mask the quiet, shooting him a quick smile as she went to take a sip. Bill let out a short laugh.

“I’ve never seen someone so unenthused about Hogwarts,” he said to Albus’s parents. Albus felt his face flush. “We were just talking to Rose about her first term before you got here, and she had so much to say!”

“I thought she’d never shut up,” Hugo muttered. Lily poorly hid a snicker as Rose threw a cushion towards him. Lily caught it and hurled it right back at her.

“Hey,” Ron scolded his son, shaking his head as Hugo buried himself into the corner of the couch. “That’s not nice.”

“Lily, don’t throw things at people, please,” Ginny said.

“If that was a snowball, nobody would have a problem with it,” Lily argued.

“But it wasn’t.”

“And Rose threw it first!”

“In my defence, it was meant for Hugo,” Rose said. Her brother stuck his tongue out at her as Hermione leaned over and placed a hand on her daughter’s arm.

“He was only teasing, Rosie,” she said. Rose let out a breath in response.

“Once Al adjusts, I’m sure he’ll be more excited,” Harry was telling Bill. “Some take more time than others.” He cast a meaningful glance in his son’s direction, one that was probably meant to be comforting or encouraging, but Albus shrunk away and fixed his gaze to his lap. Thankfully, the attention was taken off of him as the fireplace burst with sudden flames, and Percy Weasley stepped into the Burrow with his family. Cue more hugs and wishes of “Merry Christmas!” as everyone greeted them.

“I can’t believe Ron and Ginny beat you here,” Bill was telling his brother.

“Call it a Christmas miracle,” Percy said, and the two laughed when their youngest siblings immediately protested.

“Blame it on Lucy,” Molly Weasley (the II) huffed, arms crossed as she glared at her younger sister. “She couldn’t find her hair bow even though I told her to lay out her outfit last night.”

“It’s not that big a deal!” Lucy Weasley whined, adjusting the large red ribbon that pinned the front of her hair back. “Literally nobody cares!”

“I care!”

“And I don’t care that you care!”

“Girls,” Audrey Weasley said. “We’re here now. It’s over. Stop fighting.” The sisters glared at each other before stomping to opposite ends of the room.

“Called it,” James whispered to Albus. Albus rolled his eyes.

“We all called it, James.”

“You look lovely, Lucy,” Fleur told the girl as she sat beside Dominique.

“Thank you, Aunt Fleur,” Lucy beamed, sending a smug look her sister’s way. Molly exaggeratedly rolled her eyes before smiling as Hermione asked about her schooling. As conversation began to dwindle, the fire roared again, and the last of the Weasley clan arrived.

“Saving the best for last,” George Weasley announced, prompting a collective groan from his family. Even his wife shook her head, and George fixed Angelina Weasley with a betrayed expression.

“Clearly Lina is still the practical one in this marriage,” Audrey chuckled, and Angelina nodded.

“Don’t you forget it!”

“Uncle Charlie isn’t coming this year?” Molly asked, and her namesake sadly shook her head.

“Unfortunately not. He did send a letter, though. Perhaps we’ll read it at dinner.”

“As long as Uncle Charlie remembered to send gifts, that’s good enough for me,” Fred Weasley (the II) joked with James, who had practically leapt from his seat when he spotted his cousin emerging from the fireplace.

“Priorities, mate,” James snorted.

“It’s Christmas! My priorities are perfectly fine.” James snorted again, and suddenly Fred’s younger sister jumped onto James’s back and rubbed her knuckles against his head.

“My favourite Seeker!” Roxanne Weasley shouted, Fred pointing and laughing as James nearly fell over. “I hope you’re ready to be annihilated in a snowball fight later!”

“Oh you wish,” James scoffed. Roxanne squealed as he threw her onto the couch right next to Albus, who scrambled to get out of the way of her flailing limbs as she laid upside down, hair tumbling to the floor. “The Beater bat has made you too confident, Roxi.”

“You underestimate me, Potter,” Roxanne said, pointing a warning finger at her cousin. He rolled his eyes as she laughed. Then she turned her head to the side and saw Albus. “Hey!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening slightly. “Long time no see, Albus.”

“Hi, Roxanne,” Albus greeted, returning the fist bump his cousin offered him.

“Roxi!” Rose said, leaning around Albus to get a better look at her. “You absolutely killed it on the Quidditch pitch this term!”

“Right?!” Roxanne cried, the mention of her favourite sport seeming to send a new burst of energy through her as she jumped up from the couch. Albus once again dodged her limbs as she flipped herself around. “The Bludgers hate to see me coming! Do you remember that one game against those ghastly Slytherins? I knocked their best Chaser straight to the dirt!”

“Hey, dumbass,” Fred hissed, flicking his scarf at her face. Roxanne stumbled, swatting the fabric away as she glared at her brother. Then he aggressively waved towards their cousin sitting directly in front of her, and Roxanne’s eyes widened as she looked back at him. At Albus. The resident Slytherin of his family.

“Uh—” Roxanne stuttered, clearly flustered as an uncomfortable silence laid across the Burrow. Everyone’s eyes anxiously flickered between the two, regarding Albus with something akin to pity. A weight lodged itself in his throat as Roxanne continued, “Um, no offence of course to you, Albus, I was just saying—”

“It’s fine,” Albus managed to say, dismissing his cousin’s embarrassment as he felt a twist in his gut. (In for four, hold for four, out for four, hold for four.) “I know you didn’t mean me.”

“Right.” Roxanne nodded vigorously. “Just hope you weren’t too upset watching us beat your House.” She tried for a laugh and went to knock his shoulder.

“I didn’t go to any Quidditch matches,” Albus said before he could stop himself.

“Oh.” Roxanne blinked, clearly taken aback. Albus felt a sort of sick pride at her confusion. Let her see how it felt to have something about you so easily dismissed. The weight in his throat only grew, and he began to feel sick. He was sick. It was Christmas and he was treating his family like shit. But he couldn’t take the truth back now. The silence that had lapsed turned into confusion.

“Really?” Angelina asked, peering at her nephew curiously. “Not one?”

Albus mutely shook his head.

“The son of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley doesn’t go to Quidditch matches…” George muttered in what seemed to be amusement. “That’s a bit odd, huh?”

Apparently everything about Albus’s Hogwarts experience was odd, but he didn’t say anything.

“You didn’t even come to cheer your own brother on?” James asked, sagging at Albus’s side dramatically. “I mean, nobody cares about Weasley over here—”

“Hey!” Roxanne cried.

“But me?! Your own flesh and blood?! I’m wounded, Al. So very wounded.” He clutched at his chest like he’d been stabbed and flopped onto the floor. Albus knew his brother was trying to lighten the situation with humour, but really all that did was continue to draw attention to the topic that he really wanted to avoid especially now that his father was leaning over with a quizzical expression and—

“So what have you been doing at Hogwarts, Al?” Harry asked. “Aside from going to class and hanging out with the Malfoy boy.”

Oh bloody hell.

“Malfoy?” Arthur called in from the kitchen where he had been accompanying his wife as she finished cooking dinner. He stumbled over with a pinched brow as he asked, “What’s this about Malfoy?”

“Draco Malfoy’s son is in Albus’s year,” Harry quickly explained. “The two have become… friends.”

(Why did he hesitate? Is it that shameful to admit?)

“Scorpius Malfoy?” Arthur turned to Albus with the same pinched brow. “You’re friends with him?”

(Of course he would know about the rumours. “Dark Lord in Training.” Did he believe them? Is that why he was questioning Albus about this? Is that why everyone looked so interested in his answer? Merlin, this was so dramatic and for what? Why did any of this matter? Why couldn’t his family just be happy that he had managed to make a friend? Why couldn’t his father just let him experience Hogwarts the way that made him happiest? What right did he have to judge his son? It was supposed to be Albus’s experience, but apparently that wasn’t good enough for Harry Potter so he felt the need to edit it to his own liking even though it wasn’t his life and he already had his Hogwarts experience and screw his mother’s breathing exercise because it wasn’t doing shit for him and he was so sick of all the questions being asked so screw the holidays and screw that it was Christmas because he’d rather be back in the Slytherin dorms with Scorpius than doing this.)

“Everyone knows they’re friends, Grandpa,” Rose chimed in from beside him. Albus’s knuckles had turned white from how hard he was clenching his hands. “They’re always together. It’s sweet.”

Albus didn’t know what to make of her comment, whether it was meant to be passive-aggressive or subtly condescending or a sort of defence of his relationship with Scorpius Malfoy. Whatever it was, Arthur seemed to accept it, nodding as he turned to the rest of his grandchildren who chimed in with their own affirmations (because of course they knew about him and Scorpius, just like Rose said everyone at Hogwarts did, so they also knew about the rumours and the names, though none of them have brought any of that up, but that would explain why he didn’t interact with any of them at school, though he wasn’t that particularly close with them, still—). “Good,” his grandfather eventually decided. “You need reliable friends you can count on. Especially during your first year.” With a smile at Albus, he turned and rejoined his wife in the kitchen. Albus’s head spun as he tried to gauge what the hell that even meant (because his grandfather hesitated, but he smiled, but it was tight-lipped, but he met his grandson’s eyes, but he walked away, but why would he stay, but—).

“I didn’t think his parents would let him out of the house,” Lucy commented as Dominique braided small sections of her hair. She giggled, but cried out when her sister threw a crumpled napkin at her.

“Don’t be stupid,” Molly snapped. “Of course they’d let him go to school.”

“Girls, what did your mother say?” Percy warned his daughters. “Stop fighting.”

“Lucy, we shouldn’t talk about people like that,” Bill told his niece. “The rumours about the Malfoys are baseless. And this is Albus’s friend you’re talking about.”

Lucy at least seemed genuinely sorry as she lowered her head and mumbled an apology. Albus mumbled back an, “It’s okay,” when he felt someone nudge his shoe. His mother was smiling gently at him, eyes shining as she tilted her head to silently ask if he was alright. Albus managed to lift a corner of his lips in a lopsided smile. Beside her, Harry opened his mouth to further question his son, but Ginny placed a hand on his knee and drew him back, speaking in hushed tones. In the corner, Albus caught his sister’s eye, and Lily mouthed “You good?” at him. He nodded back with an “I’m okay” as their grandmother called that dinner was finally ready. When he stood with everyone to walk over to the long table, he felt James gently prod his back, offering his younger brother an apologetic smile. Albus knocked his shoulder in response.

His grandmother had knitted him a jumper. That wasn’t a surprise. She always gifted her grandchildren one the Christmas of their first year. It was their House colours, so mostly woven with maroon and gold yarn, with their first initial right in the center. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that when Albus unwrapped her gift to him, he found a knitted jumper with a large “A” in the middle. Nor should it have been a surprise that his jumper was woven with green and grey yarn.

It still made his breath catch, especially when Rose lifted her soft maroon and gold jumper out of its wrapping. Signature Gryffindor colours for a signature Gryffindor family.

That’s what Albus would usually think, but it wasn’t so true this time.

Around him, his cousins — and Teddy Lupin — were wearing their own Molly-Weasley-original jumpers. Admittedly, they mostly matched Rose’s maroon and gold. But there were a few notable exceptions sitting amongst Bill and Fleur Weasley.

“Yeah, Al!” Teddy cheered, pumping his fist in his yellow and black Hufflepuff jumper. “Break the norms! Screw conformity! Down with the system!”

“Okay, now you’re just being dramatic,” Louis said, still sitting on the floor, donning the blue and bronze colours of Ravenclaw.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Dominique said, her jumper matching her brother’s, as she smiled encouragingly at Albus. “All four Houses represented in one family.”

(Where was all this positivity when he first got sorted?)

Albus offered her a lopsided smile (that was all he was capable of mustering anymore for that night) as he and Rose thanked their grandmother for the jumpers. Rose was basically glowing as she pulled hers on, giving a twirl as her family cheered. “Another great witch in Gryffindor!” Molly declared, eyes shining as she watched her granddaughter. Albus slipped his jumper on and resisted the urge to try and melt into the couch cushions. He wondered if anyone would even notice.

“I think Al’s is the coolest,” Lily suddenly said. She had gathered with Hugo and Lucy, the only remaining non-Hogwarts students, over a tin of chocolates Charlie Weasley had sent them for the holidays. She was now pointing a half-bitten chocolate towards her older brother, grinning as she gestured to his jumper. “I like the colours.”

Albus had to agree. Green was a much better colour to look at than red. Easier on the eyes. Cozier, even. He ignored the voice in his mind that told him this opinion was screaming of spiteful bias, instead squeezing the hand his grandmother placed on his own. “You look very nice, dear,” she told him. “Slytherin needed a good wizard like you.”

(His stomach churned at that last comment. She meant well, he knew that, but it didn’t stop the sharp aggravation. He hadn’t eaten much at dinner, but he still felt like he was going to be sick.)

“Speaking of Slytherin,” Victoire started, leaning forward curiously, “what are the dormitories like? Seven years and it’s the only Common Room I haven’t visited yet.”

“We’re not supposed to bring other Houses there,” Albus once again burst with the truth. This proved to be a mistake as shocked laughter arose from his family.

“Merlin, you’re serious?” Victoire asked between huffs of laughter. “Not even friends or family?” Albus gave a single shake of his head, and Victoire went, “Wow,” as she leaned back into Teddy’s side.

“It was like that during our year too,” Bill said with a light shrug.

“Slytherin House is consistent, I’ll give them that,” Harry commented, sipping at a glass of Firewhiskey.

“It’s in the dungeons though, right?” Fred asked Albus. At his confirming nod, Fred puffed out his chest and declared, “I bet I could find it if I looked hard enough.”

“You’d have to find enough brains first,” Roxanne teased. “And that would be harder than searching the dungeons.”

“Plus the entrance is obviously hidden,” Molly stated. The siblings’ smiles fell as their cousin spoke. “I’ve walked the dungeons countless times and haven’t been able to find it.”

“You’ve only been going there for a year, that’s not saying much,” Rose said.

“A year and a half!” Molly cried, whipping towards her indignantly. “Which is still more than you!”

“Hey, it’s not a competition,” Hermione told them.

“Yeah. Save that for the Quidditch pitch,” George said with a teasing lilt to his voice. Molly rolled her eyes in dismissal, but Rose grinned excitedly and went on to tell her uncle all about her goal of making the Gryffindor Quidditch team as soon as possible.

“I for one think it’s admirable that Albus is following his House rules,” Percy declared.

“Of course you would,” Ron snorted.

“Loyalty is important!”

“Have you been liking Slytherin fine, then?” Audrey asked over the brothers’ squabble.

“Yeah. Everyone just does their own thing, really,” Albus said, repeating his answer to the same question his father had asked just days ago. His aunt was none the wiser, giving a small smile in response.

“That’s good. That means you can enjoy yourself however you please!”

(Except for the fact that whatever he did was apparently wrong and warranted a million different judgements.)

“Alright!” Arthur called, waving his wand as a wrapped box levitated from under the tree towards his family. “Who’s got the next present?”

The present opening continued, clinking cups and shrieks of excitement over the tearing of paper that was lifted away by the occasional wand wave. Albus could finally stop talking, only speaking to thank his gift giver and giving a half-hearted laugh in response to his family’s jokes. The night was beginning to wind down, and he could finally swallow without a wave of nausea threatening to swell when a familiar gift was suddenly dropped into his lap and never mind, the nausea was back. Candy cane wrapping paper glimmered from the reflection of the Christmas lights, and Lily straightened the black bow as she explained, “I thought you’d wanna open it sooner. Y’know, extra holiday cheer!”

“Lils,” James deadpanned as she bounced on her toes, “you totally snuck that in the gift bag just because you’re nosy and want to know what he got.”

“Like you’re not nosy either,” Lily scoffed as their family peered curiously at Albus once again and oh yeah, he was about two minutes away from vomiting all over the floor.

“Who gave you that?” his grandmother asked.

“Scorpius Malfoy,” Ginny said, and her mother practically gave herself whiplash turning towards her daughter. “He stopped us before we left the platform. Poor boy was so nervous. Said this was his first time gifting a friend.”

“Oh…” Molly sighed and turned back to scrutinise the present. “Well that was nice of him.”

“My friends didn’t start giving me Christmas presents until our second year,” Dominique said, weaving leftover ribbon through her hair. “You’re lucky, Albus.”

And that… Huh. That statement seemed to tame the roaring storm in his mind, and the sickening twist in his stomach loosened as he fiddled with the bow on top of the gift. His gift. Given by his friend. By Scorpius. “Okay, now you’ve got me feeling nosy,” Angelina laughed, eyeing it with interest.

“Are you going to open it now?” Hugo spoke up, leaning against the coffee table as he sat up on his knees. Questioning faces stared Albus down again, but this time his attention was focused elsewhere. A strange kind of nervousness wormed through his chest, and he carefully undid the bow. He went to toss it to the floor, but instead leaned over and draped it over Dominique’s leg. She chuckled and accepted it as he turned back to undoing the wrapping paper. Strips of candy canes fluttered to the floor, revealing the two hardcover books stacked within.

“He gifted you books?” Rose asked incredulously. “Do you even read like that?” Albus ignored her, the initial nervousness giving way to a warm giddiness as he laid the books side-by-side to see both covers.

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

“What books did he get you, Al?” Harry asked, and Albus read the titles out to his family. “Mm. Muggle books.”

“Those are classics,” Hermione said, nodding in approval. “He has good taste.”

“Scorpius loves books,” Albus found himself saying, but this time he didn’t regret speaking his mind. “He and his mum. Apparently she has her own mini library in the manor. He said this book—” He held up Jekyll and Hyde, “is like the Muggle version of Polyjuice Potion, so he thought I’d find it interesting. And this one—” He held up 20,000 Leagues, “is really for the author because he named the giant squid ‘Verne’ after him.”

“The giant what?” Lucy nearly shrieked.

“The giant squid. The Slytherin dormitory is under the lake and it passes by the windows sometimes. Scorpius named it Verne.”

“And Albus only said that Slytherin was ‘fine,’” Fleur chuckled to Bill.

Albus gently ran his hands across the two covers, the smile on his face the widest and most genuine it had been all night. He began to idly flip through the pages, but paused when he noticed slips of parchment stuck behind the covers. He laughed, bright and cheery, when he saw Scorpius’s handwriting. “He wrote you notes too?” Ginny asked, smile evident in her voice.

“Why didn’t he just write it on the first page?” Rose said when Albus nodded.

“Scorpius hates writing in books,” he replied simply, more focused on reading Scorpius’ notes to him than entertaining Rose’s unwarranted critiques. He first read the one from Jekyll and Hyde:

Albus,

I don’t even know if you remember our conversation the day we met, but you seemed interested in this book when I described it so I figured you might like a copy of your own. Even if you don’t end up reading it (please don’t feel obligated to read this!), I think the cover is pretty so it could make a nice shelf decoration. I really do appreciate you staying with me in the compartment that day. I didn’t think I would be able to make a friend at Hogwarts, much less give them a present. But I am, and I did. All thanks to you.

Merry Christmas,

Scorpius M.

He made sure to slip the note carefully back into the book before reading the second note:

Albus,

Consider this book your official reminder of our favourite giant squid Verne! I only just realised I never explained the plot to you, but know there are indeed giant squid in this story and I didn’t just pick a random author who wrote about the sea (they’re called “devilfish” but Verne isn’t a devil and hasn’t attacked a submarine as far as I’m aware, so they’re different). I hope this will serve as a fond memory for you to look back on long after you graduate Hogwarts — which is a long time away considering we haven’t even finished our first year, but I like to think ahead, sorry. May thoughts of Verne fill your joyous holiday! And do have a joyous holiday.

Merry Christmas,

Scorpius M.

“You’re glowing,” James whispered to him as he slipped the second note back into 20,000 Leagues. Albus jolted, but the smile his brother was giving him caused his shoulders to drop. “Good present, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Albus laughed. “Good present.” He caught Lily’s gaze from across the room, and she beamed at the smile now stretching across her brother’s face. He raised the books towards her and quirked an eyebrow, as though asking if she was satisfied with the gift reveal. Lily giggled before jumping back into conversation with Hugo and Lucy.

The rest of the night, Albus held the books close to his chest.

Chapter Text

“Slytherin really has changed you!”

Albus glanced up from where he had been lying on his bed, internally groaning at the sight of James leaning against the doorway. He was clad in winter gear, holding his brand new broomstick that he’d gotten from Uncle George and Aunt Angelina loosely in one hand. “What are you on about?” Albus asked. Clearly against his better judgement when James gave a dramatic sniff and wiped non-existent tears from his eyes.

“You’re reading!”

Albus fixed him with an unamused stare. It was true that since opening Scorpius’s present on Christmas Eve, he had spent every available moment in his room reading the books he had received. He had gotten through The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde surprisingly quickly (which he later found was because the book was technically a novella) and was now making his way through 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Though Scorpius had insisted in his notes (both of which were now pinned to the wall above his dresser) that Albus not feel pressured to read the books, Albus was determined to finish both so he and Scorpius could talk about them on the train ride back to school.

He just wished that, like so many other things in his life, his family would stop acting like he had undergone some complete transformation that left him unrecognisable. Last time he checked, he wasn’t Dr Jekyll, and his family certainly wasn’t Sir Utterson with a moral responsibility to solve the mystery of his disguise. There was no disguise. No Mr Hyde. Just Albus.

“You say that like I’m illiterate,” he drawled in response to James, turning back to the adventures of Captain Nemo and the Nautilus crew.

“When was the last time you chose to pick up a book?” James scoffed before pointing an accusatory finger at his brother. “No, they did something to you down there. I know it.”

“Of course they did, because the house of Dark Magic is always up to something, aren’t they?” Albus snapped. James’s grin wavered, and Albus immediately shrunk down into his covers. He didn’t mean to snap at him like that, but the implication that Slytherins had intentionally altered his personality sent a wave of sharp, hot irritation shooting up from his belly and he just… “Sorry,” he muttered. What was wrong with him lately? First at the Burrow, now here at home, he just couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut.

“No,” James readily shook his head. “Bad joke. That’s on me.”

“All your jokes are bad,” came Lily’s voice, and James frowned at her as she appeared in Albus’s doorway. She was also dressed for the snow and squealed when James shoved her hat down over her eyes. “Merlin, you’re still in here?” she said when she readjusted her hat and found Albus in bed, blanket over his legs, book opened in his lap. “I’ve never seen you read so much.”

James let out a victorious laugh as Albus’s frown deepened. “Thank you! Glad I’m not the only one who finds this odd.”

“Al has always been odd,” Lily teased through her own giggles.

(Right. Because everything Albus does is odd.)

“Who are you calling odd?” said their father, standing in the hallway behind his son and daughter. He held a broomstick in each hand, one significantly smaller that was obviously Lily’s. His children wordlessly pointed at their brother, and Harry seemed surprised to find his middle child still in bed. “Are you still reading that book, Al?”

“I finished the first one last night,” Albus said, bitterly accepting the sudden interrogation he was under as he gestured to the novella sitting on his nightstand. “I just started this one.”

“You’re like halfway done with it already!” Lily exclaimed, and Albus rolled his eyes.

“I’m not even a third of the way through, don’t be so dramatic.”

“Well… are you enjoying it?” Harry slowly asked.

“Yeah, they’re good,” Albus stated, knowing he wasn’t really interested in hearing about either story. That was a discussion for him and Scorpius to have, anyway.

“Too good to put down and come play a game of Quidditch with your family?” Harry raised the brooms he was holding as he grinned. “Come on!” he chided when Albus didn’t respond right away. “It feels like we haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

“I thought you and Mum wanted me to read more,” Albus replied. James and Lily seemed entertained by his retaliation, barely stifling snickers as Harry sputtered.

“Yes because reading is important, but so is spending time with family. Especially since you and James are going back to—”

“Don’t say the ‘s’ word, Dad,” James begged, grasping his father’s coat as he sunk towards the floor. “My heart can’t take it.”

“I wish I was going back to Hogwarts next week,” Lily mumbled, crossing her arms with a huff. Hands reached out from behind and gently wrapped a scarf around her neck.

“Your time will come, dearest, just be patient,” Ginny said with a sweet smile. She peered around the door and chuckled when she spotted Albus. “Hello, bookworm. Planning on joining us?”

They had matching scarves. His parents and James all had their maroon and gold Gryffindor scarves hanging around their necks. Even Lily had one on, likely one of their mother’s old ones from when she was still in school. Albus’s green and grey one hung in his closet, dangling over his broomstick he had shoved into the corner. He thought back to Madam Hooch’s first flying lesson, his first spectacular failure, the origin of the Slytherin Squib.

“I don’t like Quidditch,” was what he told his family, and they looked at him like he had just thrown a puppy out the window.

“What?!” Lily cried.

“Really?” James exclaimed.

“Al—” his mother started.

“Since when?!” his father cut in incredulously. Albus resisted the urge to groan at the dramatics. Was it really all that serious?

“I’d just rather stay in and read,” he said, not offering further explanation.

“But you love Quidditch,” Harry insisted. “Remember when we went to the World Cup? You nearly fell out the booth, you were cheering so hard!”

“That was ages ago, Dad,” Albus argued, fighting down the flush that rose to his face at the memory.

“It was only three years ago!”

“Is that why you didn’t come to any Quidditch matches?” James suddenly asked. “You seriously don’t like the game?” His family stared at him expectantly, and Albus bit the inside of his cheek before confirming. He noticed something change in Harry’s posture, shoulders suddenly stiffer than before, and he looked like he wanted to say something before James let out a cheer, “So you do care about me! You just don’t care about Quidditch! Aw, Albus, thank you!”

“That—” Albus blinked rapidly. “That is not what you should be taking from this—”

“My brother loves me!” James sang as he skipped away, presumably to finally head outside. Lily mimed retching as she followed her oldest brother, calling back for their parents to hurry as the front door slammed shut. Albus was left with his parents standing in the doorway, and he avoided looking either of them in the face.

“Albus—” he heard his father start.

“Would you at least consider reading outside?” Ginny cut in. “Or even in the living room? I just really don’t want you up here all by yourself, Albus.”

“Why not?” Albus couldn’t help but burst. “What’s so bad about me being in my own bedroom? It’s been months since I’ve been in here—”

“And it’s been months since we’ve seen you!” Harry exclaimed. “What, did the Malfoy boy teach you to hate the Potters just like his father?”

“Harry!” Ginny shouted, clearly appalled by her husband’s behaviour.

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Albus shot back. “You met him on the platform — Can’t you see that Scorpius doesn’t have a hateful bone in his body?!”

“I know you’ve gotten close to the boy, Albus,” Harry said in the calm condescension of an authority figure, like Albus didn’t understand the matter at hand. “But you don’t know the Malfoys like I do. His father—”

“I don’t care about his father!” Albus screamed, slamming his book on the bed so hard it bounced to the floor with a sharp thud. “I don’t care how he was in school, and I don’t care about how he treated you when you were at school. Scorpius isn’t like that. And if he really was taught to hate the Potters, he wouldn’t have given me a Christmas gift.” Pause. “Unless you mean that I’m not a real Potter.”

“What?” It was Harry’s turn to look appalled. “When did I ever imply that?”

“You literally just asked me if Scorpius taught me to ‘hate the Potters,’” Albus barked out a disbelieving laugh. “So unless he taught me to hate myself, we both know you weren’t including me.”

“Albus, that’s not what I—” Harry released a frustrated sigh, and Albus rubbed at his face. He was frustrated? Really? “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just wish you’d want to come and spend time with us, is all.”

He just wanted to spend time with his son. Of course he did, because Harry Potter loved his family and families who love each other do things together and they don’t fight or scream at each other especially not sons to their fathers and certainly not Albus to Harry because Harry had provided much needed comfort to him before boarding the Hogwarts Express back in September and yeah he had kinda made Albus feel like crap but really Albus shouldn’t have been starting problems in the first place even though these issues wouldn’t exist were it not for the expectations Harry had set upon his family but still he loved them and just wanted what was best for them so Albus shouldn’t be so harsh on him but then again Harry shouldn’t be so harsh on him but then again who the hell was Albus to think this way about his own father—

He was treating his family like crap. Maybe he wasn’t a true Potter after all.

“I think it’s best if we leave Albus to read,” Ginny interjected, placing a hand on her husband’s shoulder to drive him away from their son’s room. “We can all have lunch together after the game.” Harry glanced repeatedly back at Albus, whether wanting to say something else or waiting for his son to speak or even apologise, but Albus focused on his hands bunching fistfuls of his blanket in order to avoid the urge to rip his own hair out. Harry disappeared around the corner as Ginny grabbed her own broomstick that had been leaning against the wall. “You’re always welcome to join us,” she told her son with an air of sympathy. She waited for a beat, two, and when he stayed silent, she walked away.

Albus waited until he heard the front door close, the cheers of his siblings as their parents joined them seeming to echo through the empty halls of the house, before leaning over the side of his bed and picking up the fallen book, checking for creases and dents as he dusted off the cover. As he settled back to continue reading, he couldn’t help but wonder faintly if his family — if the Potters — would miss him if he disappeared under the sea.

They never did talk about it. Not really. When the Potters stumbled back inside, cheeks flushed and noses tinted red, they found a plate of sandwiches and mugs of warm tea waiting for them at the table, Albus laid across the sofa with his book. Ginny smiled and placed a kiss against his temple. “Winners get first pick!” Lily declared, shooting a “Thanks, Al,” at her brother as she passed. Right behind her, James huffed.

“Yeah yeah, no need to rub it in,” he said, ruffling Albus’s hair as his thanks. He yelped when Albus whacked his hand away with the book, causing Lily to snicker.

“Hey!” Harry called as the two crowded around the table hungrily. “Wash your hands first.” With some reluctant groaning (“Snow is frozen water, so technically we already washed since we were playing in it,” Lily grumbled.), they trudged down the hallway towards the bathroom. Albus shifted on the couch as he finished the paragraph he had been reading, going to stick the piece of parchment he had ripped off an old Potions essay (which he had gotten less than satisfactory marks on, but what class did he truly perform well in anyway?) as a makeshift bookmark between the pages. A shadow suddenly fell over him as his father kneeled beside the armrest. “Thank you for this, Al,” he said gently, wearing a hesitant smile as his hand hovered undecidedly over Albus’s shoulder before settling there with the softest touch. Something flickered in his eyes behind his glasses, a light that twinkled dully with a glossy sheen—

Pity. Harry Potter pitied his son.

(But they just had a fight. But his father hadn’t meant it. But his father was feeling guilty. But his father didn’t know if Albus had calmed down. But his father wasn’t sure if Albus had forgiven him—)

(But why would he need forgiveness if he hadn’t done anything wrong, hadn’t implied what he insisted he didn’t mean, because all he had done since Albus went to Hogwarts and got sorted into Slytherin and met Scorpius Malfoy was judge him and judge his friendships and judge his likes and dislikes and the way he spent his time and he hadn’t behaved at all like this when James first went to school so what was so different about Albus and why did he hate it so much?)

The disappointing Potter deserved to be pitied, Albus mused, shrugging off Harry’s hand as he muttered, “You’re welcome.” The incoming stampede of his siblings returning prevented anything more from being said as Albus stood to join them at the table. He ignored the worried look his mother shot him as he sat between his siblings, where James was still sulking about losing as Lily victoriously piled her plate with sandwiches. “Did you really think you’d beat an ex-professional Quidditch player?” Albus asked him. Lily snorted as James gaped, offended.

“I don’t need my Quidditch hating brother judging me on my Quidditch playing skills!” he shrieked. Albus gave a light flinch. “Besides, that wasn’t a real Quidditch game anyway. We were just playing Keeper and Chaser. If I played Seeker, I would’ve beaten the girls easy!”

“Oh, is that so?” Ginny asked slyly, settling across from her eldest. James met her grin with a look of pride.

“That’s right!”

“Just you?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought we were a team?”

(Albus nearly snorted at the irony.)

“You know what I meant, Dad,” James waved him away. Harry chuckled, shaking his head fondly.

“Well, you didn’t, so Mum and I get to feast on sandwiches first!” Lily said, taking a large bite and chewing obnoxiously in James’s direction.

“Lily, chew with your mouth closed, please,” Ginny chided. Albus startled when she placed some food on his plate before her own, and she offered him a smile when he looked up. Albus nodded his thanks and nibbled on a corner.

“We’ll get them next time, Dad,” James told his father seriously. Harry nodded back.

“Next time,” he echoed, only to startle when he noticed Ginny staring him down in challenge. “Um…” He looked around nervously before asking, “More tea, dear?”

“I haven’t even taken a sip yet,” she deadpanned. He blinked back at her.

“Will you eventually want more tea?”

“You are an idiot.”

James and Lily found Albus after lunch, having once again retreated to his bedroom to read. Lily crawled next to him, flipping around so she laid upside-down with her feet propped against the headboard, as James threw himself across the foot of Albus’s bed. The Potter siblings sat for a while in relative silence, broken only by the swish of Albus turning a page, the clicking of James’s Rubix cube (which he had gotten from Aunt Hermione back in his first year), and the rattling of beads as Lily wove bracelets (part of a jewellery making kit gifted from Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey that Christmas). Albus glanced over when he felt something slide around his wrist, finding Lily squinting as she determined whether or not the bracelet she was currently making would fit him. The threads were several shades of green decorated with glinting silver beads. When she had adjusted it to his size, he held his right hand out for her to tie it on. James chuckled and knocked their wrists together, a red and gold Lily Luna Potter-original bracelet woven with shining maroon beads clinking against his.

“Do you think Scorpius would like one?” Lily suddenly asked, guiding Albus’s wrist closer to her face to examine her handiwork. He startled at the mention of his friend’s name.

“A bracelet?” he asked. Lily nodded as she fiddled with the beads.

“I have a bunch of green thread to use and he’s the only other Slytherin I know.”

“You don’t even really know him,” Albus muttered. “And you don’t have to use green just for Slytherin House, y’know.”

“Makes for an easier gift,” she replied, flicking the bracelet tassels.

“Speaking of,” James started, sitting up cross-legged to face his siblings as he spoke to Albus, “you are planning on giving Scorpius a gift too, right?”

“Obviously,” Albus rolled his eyes, trying not to blush — why was he blushing? — at the memory of his seemingly endless agonization over what to get Scorpius for Christmas. He was already late to begin with, the holiday having already passed, and his friend’s gift had been attentively thoughtful, remembering the seemingly unimportant details mentioned in passing during mundane conversation. How could he ever follow up an act as kind as that? Scorpius had insisted it was okay that he didn’t get a present, but they’re friends and it’s the holiday season and friends give each other holiday gifts so of course Albus was going to get him something. On the bright side, this meant that Scorpius could be surprised too. Albus just had to make sure his surprise meant as much to Scorpius as Scorpius’s had meant to him.

Needless to say the pressure was on and yes, he had in fact lost sleep over it.

“And?” James pushed as Lily finally dropped Albus’s wrist and peered at him just as curiously as their older brother. “What are you getting him?”

Albus told them, quickly explaining the significance (much to their amusement if their smiles and utterly annoying “Awww”s were anything to go by), then mentioned, “I’ve already written to Aunt Hermione about helping me get them. She’ll be sending them over.” He frowned at the confused expression on Lily’s face. “What?”

“Why didn’t you ask Dad?” she asked. “He grew up in the Muggle world too.”

And just like that, Albus felt all the tension from that morning shoot through his chest, and he found himself gripping his book tighter as he forced out, “Because Dad doesn’t like Scorpius, so I don’t think asking him to help me get him a gift would be a good idea.” Lily’s frown only deepened.

“Why doesn’t he like him?”

“He has issues with his dad,” James interjected, saving Albus from having to answer through a clenched jaw. “They had a… rivalry at school.” At Lily’s increased perplexity, James waved a hand, “He’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“Hmph.” Lily pouted, and the three sat in silence before she eventually declared, “That’s dumb.”

“Wait.” Albus blinked, exchanging a startled look with James. “Which part? Dad not liking Scorpius because of his dad or him not telling you about it until you’re older?”

“Both.” And with that issue settled, she reached beside her and brought out a spool of dark green thread. “Anyway, do you want me to make a bracelet for Scorpius? You could add it to the other stuff so it doesn’t look like you’re just copying him.”

“I’m not copying him!” Albus protested. “I spent a long time thinking about this!”

“Awww,” James cooed again. “Alby wants to impress his new friend!”

Albus promptly kicked him off the bed.

Chapter Text

The parcel arrived at the Potter house in the middle of dinner. Albus practically leapt from the table at the owl’s incessant tapping at the window. Conversation among his family stopped at the sound, and they watched as he untied the package from the owl’s talons and placed a coin in its beak. “What’s that, Al?” Ginny asked pleasantly, having noticed her son’s immediate excitement. A grin stretched wide across his face as he held the package, and he found himself clutching it closer to his chest as he turned around and faced his family again.

As he turned around and faced his father’s curious eyes, flicking between the package and Albus’s face with something like suspicion. Because of course Albus would be up to something. Just like all the other Slytherins Harry Potter knew and even didn’t know because as the Hogwarts Expert, Harry Potter knew everything about everyone in every House including Slytherin — especially Slytherin which was filled with no good, cunning, selfish individuals whose sole purpose in life was to plot and scheme the misfortune of others for their own gain.

Dramatic? Yes. But that was how Harry Potter thought, so really the issue lies with him.

(Though Albus must have done something to warrant that judgement because why else would Harry view his own son that way? It wasn’t like he was trying to be cruel, he just went through a lot and Albus was probably making it worse by acting like… like what? What was he doing that was so different than before? What was he doing wrong? How could he have become such a resounding disappointment, not at all a true Potter? Unless that’s what he always was and his father was just too kind, too loving, to tell him.)

“Something for Scorpius,” he explained quickly. “I couldn’t just let him gift me something without doing anything in return.” He directed that last bit towards Harry, as though trying to justify this action (and for what?). His father blinked back at him for a moment before (hesitantly) nodding.

“That’s very kind of you, Al,” he praised, mustering a smile.

“More like it was very kind of Scorpius,” Albus immediately replied. “He’s the one who got me something first. I wasn’t even thinking of getting him a Christmas present.”

Here he goes again, blurting out whatever comes to mind. The funny thing was he used to crave his father’s praise, his acknowledgement, holding his words close to heart as a source of comfort, of warmth, a grounding weight that kept him going, encouraged him to keep trying. Yet ever since he came home for the holidays, Harry’s words seemed to have a sort of underlying insinuation to them, almost patronising, like Albus was constantly mistaken in his actions, his views, his relationships, and Harry was being a kind, loving, responsible father in trying to help him along, getting him on the “right path.” Albus would almost worry that he was projecting if it weren’t for the words his father spoke the other day, clear and firm with no room for misinterpretation, about Scorpius Malfoy.

Albus reminded himself of this as Harry’s smile became strained and he forced a nod before turning back to his dinner. Albus's words brought him discomfort. But really, the issue lies with him. “I’m going to put these in my room. Do we still have wrapping paper left?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever used a whole roll in my life!” James teased. He yelped as Ginny feigned offence and swatted at him.

“I’ll pull some out,” she told her youngest son. “But don’t dawdle. You still need to finish your dinner.”

Albus suppressed a wince as he glanced towards his plate, piled with the roasted chicken and potatoes Harry had prepared. There wasn’t anything wrong with the food. For all the praise the Boy Who Lived got about saving the Wizarding World, he was also an excellent cook. But Albus had spent most of the meal poking at it with his fork, taking small bites every so often as his family gradually cleared their plates around him. James had even helped himself to seconds by the time the owl arrived. In all regards, Albus should’ve finished his meal, or at the very least been close to it. Yet his plate looked to be overflowing with food in comparison to his family’s. Not that he was purposefully trying to avoid eating, it’s just the thought of consuming anything made him want to vomit and the act of actually spearing a piece of chicken or potato on his fork to bring to his mouth forced him to swallow back a gag, so really he was simply looking out for his own well-being.

“I’ll be quick,” he promised, nodding at the pleased smile Ginny shot him before heading to his room. The bracelet Lily made for Scorpius laid across his dresser atop the note Albus had written. His trash bin was filled with the shredded parchment of previous drafts. At one point, Lily had confiscated his parchment until further notice because, “If I hear one more piece of parchment rip, I’m going to rip you.”

(To which James called down the hall, “What does that even mean?” and Lily immediately responded, “Come over and you’ll find out!” as Albus frantically pleaded, “If you’re going to commit murder, do it outside my room, please.”)

He had originally planned to write two notes just like Scorpius had done for him, but given his apparent inability to write just one bloody note explaining his reasoning behind the gifts he had chosen and expressing his gratitude for his friend and the gifts he had given him and the countless instances of support he had provided during his frankly disastrous first year thus far, he had opted to write a single note instead. Once he had signed his name, he frantically thrusted it away from his quill lest he be tempted to go over and make what he first swore would only be a few tiny revisions before eventually deciding the whole thing was garbage and tossing it in the bin. He saved his and apparently Lily’s wits by simply placing it face-down on his dresser and walking away. Even as he approached with the gifts in hand, he resisted the urge to reread what he had written, instead lifting the bracelet to then place the parcel over the parchment and draping the woven green and silver threads over the beige twine that tied the package together. Pushing off the dresser, he whirled around and walked back to the dining table, rejoining his family in the middle of a wholly uninteresting Quidditch discussion. Like they had waited until the exact moment he was gone to bring the topic up.

Albus resolutely ignored this thought as he sat back down. Ginny paused to smile and smooth down his hair as he picked up his fork again, but then turned away to excitedly chime back into the conversation. She was so fiercely passionate about the sport, still following it closely even though she had retired from playing professionally. It was clear from the way her eyes lit up, the way she leaned forward, hands waving animatedly as she spoke. Lily seemed to be hanging onto her mother’s every word, sliding her chair closer as she looked up with wide, interested eyes (and it took a lot for Lily Potter to look visibly interested in something). James too looked unusually serious, nodding along and asking questions as Ginny mentioned her favourite and most effective training strategies from her time with the Harpies. Harry was offering his own advice, recounting his experiences as Gryffindor Seeker and Quidditch Captain.

Albus resumed the task of picking idly at his food. He truly wasn’t angry or saddened or annoyed by his family’s chosen conversation. It was fine. It was something they were all interested in, something they found commonality with and bonded over. That was just fine, no matter the way Albus's stomach churned and something heavy lodged in his gut that was slowly making its way up towards his throat that seemed to taste faintly of bile—

“Is something wrong with the food, Albus?”

Albus jerked. Conversation had halted as Harry observed his youngest son with a raised eyebrow, looking disapprovingly between his face and the full plate in front of him. A sharp jab of irritation twitched in his chest, but he still avoided looking his father in the face, his shoulders slouching as he mutely shook his head. “Then what is it?” Harry pressed. “You’ve hardly eaten a thing!”

He felt his mother’s hand gently caress his cheek. The sparkle her eyes had held just moments before had now dimmed with worry, and Albus had to fight to swallow. “Are you feeling alright, dear?” she asked, and Albus immediately took the out, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“My stomach hurts,” he mumbled, still avoiding direct eye contact with either of his parents. “Sorry…”

“No need to apologise, love. It’s alright,” Ginny was quick to reassure him, rubbing circles on his back as she exchanged a concerned glance with her husband. Harry’s judgemental expression softened as he tried a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t force yourself to eat if it’s making you unwell, Al,” he said. “Even though I slaved over a hot stove for this meal, I won’t take it personally.”

“Dad,” James groaned. “That’s not helping.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Harry said, letting out a forced chuckle as he glanced back at Albus. The irritation in his chest twisted around his heart.

“Are you able to eat just a bit more?” Ginny asked, nudging Albus's plate. “I just don’t want you going to bed hungry.”

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” he said truthfully, glancing at the plate only to squeeze his eyes shut as a wave of nausea churned. Ginny pressed her lips together and laid a hand across his forehead as though checking for a fever. When she didn’t find one, she glanced at Harry again.

“Maybe he should have a bit of a lie-down?” Harry suggested. “He is looking rather pale.”

See, he wasn’t totally lying about feeling ill. Maybe he was exaggerating the physical symptoms a bit, but there must be some merit to it if his father saw him as paler than usual. Besides, the nausea was very real, building up the column of his throat from the pit of his stomach where a knot had begun to form ever since he sat down. But it wasn’t anything he could explain to his family — let alone his parents — let alone Harry Potter — so better for him to pass it off as something they could actually understand.

When Albus was finally excused, he could feel Harry’s eyes on him as he scampered back to his room. Part of him wondered if his father thought he was faking it, that he was making up some excuse to get away from the family, to attend to Scorpius Malfoy’s gift, that he was a cunning trickster fooling them all so he could go do whatever he wanted just like a true Slytherin would. But the greater part of him wanted to curl up in bed and stare blankly at the wall, so that’s what he did.

His stomach gurgled, and he wrapped his arms tight around his middle as though trying to muffle the sound. Again, he wasn’t purposefully trying to avoid eating, he just really didn’t feel well. Though it may not be in the way his family thought, that didn’t make everything he felt (the knot, the churning, the lump, the nausea, the bile) any less real. He would eat when he felt better, more comfortable, less nauseous, less like he felt at Hogwarts in the Great Hall where he had to force bits of food and drink down his throat before running away from the constant eyes and silent judgements and echoing laughter and why was he feeling like this in his own home with his own family who loved and accepted him no matter what including his House but was that really true when he was so very clearly the outlier of the Potters and even of the extended Weasley family—

This wasn’t becoming a habit. He’d be fine eventually.

Ginny arrived with the wrapping paper an hour later. She had even pulled out a spool of green ribbon to tie around the gift. Albus tried not to act too excited, rising slowly from his fetal position to accept the supplies. To be fair, his stomach was twisting itself into knots, just not at all from sickness.

“Feeling alright, now?” his mother asked, not knowing any better. She gently smoothed down where his hair had stuck up from the pillowcase, and he leaned into her touch.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, a light burst of guilt for making her worry firing inside his chest. “Sorry.”

“I said you don’t need to apologise,” Ginny lightly scolded, squeezing Albus's cheek. He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, and she let out a breathy giggle. Then, “Your father isn’t angry with you. He’s just worried about you, and he always will be.” She shrugged. “Comes with being a parent, I suppose.”

(Is that why he finds everything Albus does insufficient? Is that why he doesn’t believe Albus is a true Potter?)

Albus didn’t trust himself to give a verbal response, the materials to wrap Scorpius’s gift suddenly heavy in his hands. He merely pursed his lips and gave a slight nod, then moved to sit on the floor. He had fully expected his mother to leave, but Ginny reached over and grabbed the present stack off his dresser before joining him. Silently, she grabbed the roll of wrapping paper and held it steady while he measured and cut the right amount to cover the gift. Then she waited patiently as he smoothed and creased the paper around the stack, ready with a piece of tape to secure the fold.

It wasn’t perfect; the paper was bulging in multiple areas and slightly ripped at the corners, plus the frankly embarrassing amount of shiny, lopsided pieces of tape used to hold it all together. But still, he had done it. He had come up with and wrapped a gift for Scorpius, his first friend at Hogwarts. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face, and he held it up for his mother to see like a young child proudly showing off their crayon scribbles. He felt his spirits brighten considerably, even more when Ginny smiled back at him. “Very nice, dear,” she praised, and he practically glowed. “Do you know how to tie a bow?” she asked, holding up the ribbon she had brought.

“You might have to help me with that part.”

“Sure. Like I haven’t been helping you this whole time.”

“You know what I mean!” Albus groaned at her teasing, who laughed as she positioned the present between them both and began draping the dark green ribbon across the wrapping paper. She narrated her movements as she went, and he leaned forward on his knees, watching closely with an earnest interest. He wanted to learn so he could tie the bow himself next year.

Next year… Albus was already thinking of what to get Scorpius Malfoy for Christmas next year. He would write home to his mother — no, to his parents — oh who was he kidding, it would be to his mother — come November, so that when the Hogwarts Express arrived at Platform 9 and 3/4 for holiday break, the present would be ready and waiting for him to give to Scorpius so come Christmas Day (or Christmas Eve as Albus had done), he would have a present from a friend to look forward to opening, warm with the knowledge that someone outside his family had cared enough about him to purchase something specifically for him. Something no one had ever done for him before.

Ginny finished tying the bow with a flourish, waving her hands as though imitating sparkles. “Voilà!” she exclaimed, and Albus couldn’t have been more pleased. It was perfect, arguably the best looking thing about the gift, the two loops even and the excess draping over the sides like a rippling waterfall. He could only hope that he’d be able to get it that good next year.

Before he could forget, he grabbed the note he had written and slipped it under the bow the way Scorpius's parents had done when they sent him his new bag. He found himself staring at the finished product, and he looked up to meet Ginny’s warm smile. Something like pride seemed to shine in her eyes.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” he blurted out, suddenly worried that this was subpar, that Scorpius didn’t actually want a gift from him, that he had realised over holiday break that everyone was actually right about Albus Potter, the Slytherin Squib, not a true Potter, and now he actually didn’t want anything to do with him and forget the books and the notes because he had just been naïve then and only felt bad for Albus and only let him stick around out of pity and only gifted him out of pity because who could feel anything else for Albus Potter besides pity and—

“He’s going to love it, Albus,” Ginny said. Gently, she lifted Scorpius's present and placed it in Albus's lap. “I’m sure of it.”

The weight of the gift was grounding, his mother’s words soothing, and Albus carefully wound his arms around it as to not crease the wrapping paper. Ginny’s smile softened, and she caressed his cheek before beginning to gather up the supplies. He moved to help her. “Thanks, Mum,” he said as she stood to leave.

“Of course, Al,” she replied easily, softly, sincerely, as though he didn’t ever need to thank her because no matter what, she would always be there for him, always help him. With that same warm, soft smile on her lips, she turned to leave the room. A jab of icy sourness shot through the warmth.

“Why doesn’t Dad like Scorpius?”

Ginny halted immediately in the doorway and whipped back around, smile gone as her eyes seemed to gleam with a sort of sadness. Albus could barely stand to look at her, instead fiddling with the bow on Scorpius's gift. The ribbon felt rough against his fingertips. “Oh, Albus…” She paused for a long moment as though mulling over her next words. “Your father’s just worried about you is all—”

“Why?” It was all coming out in a mad rush now, his uncertainty and annoyance and confusion and anger laced into one constant question: Why? “There’s no reason. All Scorpius has ever done is be kind to me! Kind to everyone, including us on the platform — you were there! You saw it! And so did Dad, and yet…” He trailed off, a lump forming in his throat blocking the way of any more words — confessions — spilling out. That Harry only continued seeing the worst in Scorpius, the worst in Albus and his “Hogwarts experience.” That Harry’s behaviour didn’t seem to stem from a place of worry, rather from a place of disapproval. That despite every grudge — warranted or not, trauma-based or not — Harry had against the Malfoys, Scorpius was the only good thing about—

“He only wants the best for you, Albus,” Ginny said, slowly and softly as though trying to reassure him it was true. (He wondered if she was trying to convince herself, too. But then again, why would she think poorly of her own husband?) “And as much as Hogwarts is new to you, it’s also new to us in a way. We aren’t used to you being so far away, so we worry. Me and your father both. So when he sees you interacting with the Malfoys — because that’s what this is about, dear. It has nothing to do with Scorpius — he’s truly a lovely boy — but he’s only ever had to interact with Draco Malfoy in passing at the Ministry. Now you’ve befriended his son, and that closeness… worries him.”

Worry worry worry. It was all about worry. Kind, loving, responsible, fatherly worry. Albus should be grateful that his father cares so much, worries so much for him, for his well-being, and not at all uncertain or annoyed or confused or angry or bitter. Least of all bitter. He shouldn’t be bitter. At least Harry was still letting him gift Scorpius this present.

(Like he had to have his permission to be kind to someone, to show someone the same kindness they showed him, to be friends with someone, to hang out with the only person who truly—)

“Understand that all your father truly wants is for you to be happy,” Ginny concluded. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with Scorpius or your relationship with him.” Albus pursed his lips and merely nodded, gazing intently at the green ribbon he continued to fidget with. The conversation (if you could call it that) was clearly done, but still she lingered in the doorway, watching her youngest son barely suppress a squirm. “Did you want me to fetch you a snack?” was what she finally said, and he was quick to shake his head.

“I’m not hungry.”

And he wasn’t. When his mother finally left the room, shutting the door gently behind her, he climbed back into bed still holding Scorpius's gift. He laid down and placed it beside him, tracing the various snowflakes printed across the wrapping paper and ignoring the way his stomach grumbled.

The night before the Potters were to head back to King’s Cross, Albus didn’t sleep a wink. He alternated between lying atop his covers, staring out his window, and pacing his floor. His trunk was sitting by the front door downstairs, packed with the books and colours he spent the entire break trying to forget about. Out of sight, out of mind, if only for a little while.

It was a strange combination of emotions. On the one hand, he absolutely dreaded going back to Hogwarts, a castle full of nothing but seemingly infinite overbearing expectations and jokes at his expense. Always at his expense because Albus Potter was the Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, Stain on his family name, not a true Potter. Not to mention the letters that would almost certainly follow him back to school, rendering him nothing but a puppet for his father to attempt to control as the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Hogwarts Expert. As though his son needed to be controlled because he was simply unsatisfactory and odd in everything he did.

But then he thought of Scorpius Malfoy, of the gift waiting for him on his dresser, the notes he had written for Albus's own gift pinned onto the wall. He thought of the two novels sat near the very top of his trunk, of the upcoming moment on the Hogwarts Express where he would reach inside and pull them out and declare he had dedicated his holiday break to reading them. He thought of Scorpius's excited face as the two engaged in a deep, fascinating discussion about the stories, of Albus's gift to him sitting in his lap all the while. He thought of the moment Scorpius would open Albus's gift to him — would he be surprised? Happy? As excited as he got when talking about books, his eyes lighting up and entire body straightening as he seemed to positively glow?

The thought reduced Albus's insides to jelly as he buried his face deep into his pillows and tried (emphasis on “tried” because he ultimately, like most things he “tried” at, failed) to get some sleep before sunrise. He ended up sitting at his windowsill, head laid atop his crossed arms, and watched beacons of shimmering orange light flicker up over the horizon. He jumped when a quiet knock resounded at his door, whipping around to see James slowly inching his way into the bedroom. “Getting your last look at the sky before going back to the dungeons?” he teased.

Albus only shrugged and turned back around.

James’s socked feet padded across the carpet and he took a seat beside his brother. He didn’t say anything else right away, instead watching the movement of Muggles on the street below as they set out to begin their day. “Nervous?” was what he finally asked, quirking an eyebrow but keeping his gaze out the window.

“I wish I could stay in here forever,” Albus mumbled, voice slightly muffled from the way he buried his chin in his arms. It was something he’d never admit to anyone else, certainly not to his parents, but with James it felt easy. Maybe because he was the only person in his family who knew the true extent of Albus's so-called “Hogwarts experience” thus far. Or maybe Albus was just desperate enough to reach out to anyone who so much as breathed in his direction. Either way, his words were true. At least shut in his room, he’d be far away from Scotland and that stupid castle and the even stupider people in it. At least shut in his room, his environment would be familiar and he wouldn’t need to hear any comments or suggestions or implications that he didn’t bloody ask for. At least here, in his bedroom, shut in, alone, no one could hurt him.

“But then you wouldn’t see Scorpius,” James pointed out, and the giddy, jelly-reducing feeling swelled inside Albus's chest as he bit back a grin.

“True…” he mumbled in agreement. He expected James to immediately launch into a victorious declaration that he had managed to make Albus agree with him on something and that meant James was the smartest, all-knowing, wisest person ever and that Albus should always listen to him because he knew deep down that he was always right (to which Albus would of course deny everything, roll his eyes, and call James annoying as he pushed him away in the face of his brother’s careless laughter). But instead, James only smiled. In another moment of silence, he leaned back to look at Scorpius's gift sat on top of the dresser.

“He’s gonna love it, Al,” he told him. “Trust me.”

“Mum said that too.”

“Then you should know not to question it.” James nudged his shoulder with a knowing grin, one Albus was able to return. The door opened again, and Lily frowned at her brothers as she entered the room.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Brother bonding time,” James declared, wrapping an arm around Albus's shoulders. He shrugged him off.

“Acting like we aren’t going to the same place.”

“We’re in different years and Houses! Plus the place is huge. We’ll barely see each other!”

“Thank Dumbledore.” James's bottom lip jutted out in an exaggerated pout. Albus mocked it.

“I wish I was going to Hogwarts too,” Lily mumbled, kicking at the carpet. James's expression softened as he looked at his little sister.

“Just a couple more years, now. Not much longer.” Lily pursed her lips as she mulled over his words. She gave a soft hum, then skipped over to Albus's dresser. She prodded at Scorpius's present.

“You’re gonna tell him the bracelet is from me, right?”

“Yes, Lily,” Albus said, gesturing to the piece of parchment balancing on top of the stack. “I said so in the note. I taped it in there and labelled it with your name.” Lily immediately lifted up the flap to peer inside. She grinned, pleased, and gave an approving nod.

“Good.” Then she skipped over to the window and plopped herself down on Albus's other side. “What are we looking at?” she asked, leaning forward on the windowsill. Her brothers both copied her action.

“We’re just looking,” James said. Lily scrunched her nose.

“That’s boring.”

“Well, Albus doesn’t have readily access to a window, so he needs to take the world in while he can.” There was a hint of laughter in that sentence. Lily’s eyebrows shot up as she turned to Albus for confirmation.

“I have a window, it just looks out into the lake,” Albus corrected his brother. He then told his sister, “I’m looking at the sky. The sunrise is pretty.”

“I guess,” she replied, turning back to the glass. Then without a word, she slumped into his side, head on his shoulder. “Looking into a lake is cooler though.”

Albus gave a short chuckle, reaching over to flick her ear. “That’s because you see the sky every day. If you see the lake every day, it gets boring.”

“But the squid!” she insisted. He paused.

“Verne is cooler than the sky, you’re right.”

“So you can say Lily’s right, but not me?!” James cried. Albus fixed him with a blank stare.

“Yes. Because I like her better than you.” James gasped dramatically as Lily shot him a smug grin, sticking her tongue out at him.

“I see none of you have gotten dressed,” a voice said from the doorway. The siblings whipped around to see their parents looking over them. Their mother was smiling fondly while their father surveyed their sleepwear in vague amusement. “We have to leave for King’s Cross soon,” Harry continued. “Unless you feel like going out in your pyjamas, I suggest you each get dressed.”

“It was sibling bonding time!” James exclaimed.

“And we love to see it,” Ginny said. “But we don’t have a flying car to get you to school, so unfortunately ‘sibling bonding time’ has to end so we can make the train.”

Would it be such a bad thing to miss the train? Albus couldn’t help but wonder as everyone filed out of his room. But then he spotted the present on his dresser, and he pushed himself to his feet with a deep breath. If it meant giving the gift to Scorpius, talking to him about the books he had read over break, just seeing his friend again, he would leave the safe haven that was his bedroom and venture back into the unforgiving Wizarding World.

They were just pieces of fabric, he continuously reminded himself. As he slipped on the green tie, the green jumper, the green robe, the green scarf. It was all just pieces of fabric. He told himself this when he walked into the living room and saw James in his maroon tie, maroon jumper, maroon robe, maroon scarf. He repeated this when they arrived on Platform 9 and 3/4 (it was just a platform) and stood in front of the Hogwarts Express (it was just a train) saying their goodbyes. When Ginny hugged him and brushed his hair back from his forehead, when Lily made him pinky swear to send her pictures of Verne, when Harry Potter the Hogwarts Expert insisted he write home more often this term.

“We really do want to hear all about it, Al,” his father said. Albus tried not to outwardly flinch at the nickname (it was just a nickname). “Maybe you’ll see your cousins around more often! Hang out with them and their friends?”

“Maybe,” Albus said, purely to humour him. Harry’s smile seemed to tighten at the edges, but he nodded enthusiastically as though he was hoping to instill the same feeling in his son. Like he should be excited at the prospect of surrounding himself with the very people who treated him as nothing more than a mistake.

“Let us know how Scorpius likes the gift,” Ginny told him, and that was when Harry’s smile became visibly strained. Yet it was that comment from his mother that sent a rush of excitement through Albus's chest, and he nodded quickly in agreement.

“And how he likes my bracelet!” Lily added.

“I wanna hear about it too,” James butted in.

“Okay okay, I will!” Albus exclaimed, but it wasn’t said with annoyance. His words were laced with light, breathy laughter, the brightness matching the smile stretching across his face and the twinkle flickering in his eyes.

“Are the Malfoys even here?” Harry asked, glancing along the crowded platform. “I don’t see any of them.”

“It’s not like we ever saw Draco and his parents on the platform,” Ginny told her husband. “I’m sure he’s still as punctual as ever with his kid.”

“I’ll find Scorpius on the train,” Albus stated firmly, the tone causing his father to whip back to face him again. “It’s fine.” Harry blinked before resuming his encouraging smile.

“Of course, Al.” He paused, then said, “I hope he likes your gift.”

“Me too.” James jumped over and hooked an arm around him.

“He will,” he said. “There’s no way he wouldn’t.” He grinned at the rest of his family, then told his brother, “C’mon, then. Let’s go find him.”

With one last farewell, the brothers climbed onto the Hogwarts Express and started down the corridor. Albus expected James to head off with his own friends, but he followed him as he peered into each compartment, looking for a familiar boy with silver-blond hair and grey eyes. It was towards the back of the train where, inside a silent compartment, Albus found him. A feeling of joy seemed to rise from his toes right up to his head, and he faintly realised he hadn’t smiled this wide since coming home for the holidays.

“Scorpius.”

His friend had been slouched against the window, drawing random shapes onto the condensated glass. He shot up when Albus spoke, jumping to his feet when he saw him standing in the doorway. “Hi!” he nearly shouted, pressing a hand to his mouth briefly as though forcing his volume to quiet. “I mean, hello, Albus,” he said. “And James, of course.”

“How was your break, Malfoy?” James asked over Albus's shoulder.

“It was good. Nice to be home. And you?”

“Pretty good, but enough about me. Albus here has something for you.” And with that, he shoved Albus further into the compartment and waved. “Have fun! See you both at the castle!” Winking at his brother, James slid the compartment door shut, leaving the two boys alone staring wide-eyed at the other in a brief, startled silence.

“I might just punch him,” Albus declared, and Scorpius stifled a laugh, and with how easily they fell back into their routine, it felt like he was coming home.

“Sounds a bit extreme of a reaction.”

“Nah. If I was threatening to hex him, it’d be another story.”

“Merlin, don’t tell me you’re still on that,” Scorpius groaned at Albus's sly grin. “I wasn’t even going to hex you! I was just nervous.”

“Unless that’s what you want me to think.”

“You opened it on Christmas! It wasn’t a hex, it was books!”

“And two notes. You wrote me two notes.” At that, Scorpius flushed.

“I hope it wasn’t too much,” he mumbled, sitting back down as he fiddled with his fingers. “I probably should’ve just done it on one sheet of parchment, but Mum had suggested writing little notes on the inside covers of each to make it more special and I—”

“You hate writing in books.” It was Albus's turn to avert eye contact, suddenly shy as he gingerly took the seat across from him. Scorpius seemed stunned that he knew that, but nodded.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Well it wasn’t too much. I loved it. Really. The best gift I got this Christmas.”

“Don’t overexaggerate.”

“I’m not! I really mean it!”

“Then…” Scorpius thought over his words before nodding firmly. “Then I’m glad.” Albus smiled and, before he could overthink it or hesitate or talk himself out of it, he reached into his trunk and pulled out the gift. Scorpius's eyes widened when he saw it, even more when Albus held it out to him.

“Merry Christmas, Scorpius. I’m sorry I’m so late.”

Scorpius was stunned, only staring at the outstretched present before waving his hands frantically, “I-I told you before, you didn’t need to get me anything—!”

“And you didn’t need to get me anything,” Albus countered, one hand reaching into his trunk again. “Yet here we are.” He held up the books Scorpius had gotten him. His friend’s eyes very nearly popped out of his head.

“You… brought them?”

“I wanted to talk with you about them. I read them over break.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes, both of them.” Albus chuckled. “Why do you sound so shocked?”

“I just… I don’t know. I didn’t…” His hand waving grew faster as he stuttered, “I didn’t expect any of this, I guess.”

“That’s why it’s a surprise.” He pushed the present further in his direction. “Now are you going to open this or not? My arm’s getting tired.”

“Oh — Yes! Sorry! Thank you! Very kind, very thoughtful, very nice of you!” Scorpius rambled as he finally took the gift and set it in his lap. He stared at it for a moment, tracing his finger along the edges of the wrapping paper and twirling the ends of the ribbon. “I’ve never had a friend give me a present before,” he said. Albus clutched the books against his stomach.

“I’m honoured to be the first,” he said, and Scorpius smiled before finally beginning to unwrap it. Albus found himself holding his breath, leaning back into the cushioned train seat as though trying to shrink away from the upcoming reaction — everyone insisted it would be good, and he hoped it would be, but would it be? What if he was disappointed? What if he hated it? What if this wasn’t at all what he wanted and this was what made him realise that everyone else was right about him and that he was only a mistake and he was better off finding better friends than—

“Albus!” Scorpius shrieked as he unveiled two books, another copy of Murder on the Orient Express and a collection of Edgar Allan Poe’s work. His hand hovered above the covers as though they would disintegrate into dust upon his touch. His grey eyes were wide and sparkled like falling snow. He moved his mouth as though to speak, but no words came out. Slowly, he traced the intricate gold details on the cover of Edgar Allan Poe’s collection and ran his thumb along the spine of Agatha Christie’s novel. “This is…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t even know what to say, this is…”

“There’s a bracelet taped to the note,” Albus said, pointing to the piece of parchment Scorpius had set beside him before he undid the bow. “Lily got a jewellery making kit for Christmas and wanted to make you a bracelet.” As Scorpius folded open the note, Albus pushed up his sleeve and held up his wrist to show off his own bracelet. “She made one for me and James too.”

“So we’re matching,” Scorpius said softly, gently pulling the green thread woven with silver beads from the parchment. Albus felt his breath catch as the beads glinted from the light flickering into the compartment, and he nodded.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Wizzo!” Scorpius laughed, looking at his presents spread out across his lap. “All this is just… Wizzo!” Positively beaming, he smiled widely at Albus. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Oh, and thank Lily too of course because I love this bracelet. And I love the books. And the note even though I haven’t read it yet, but I know I’ll love it because wow this is such a surprise and I guess this is your revenge for me surprising you even though this isn’t at all unpleasant like revenge is supposed to be and I’m not trying to say that you’re mean and will take revenge on someone in the first place, I just meant—”

“You’re welcome,” Albus gently interrupted, holding back laughter as Scorpius pressed his lips together sheepishly. “And I promise you’ll get your gift on time next Christmas.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m going to.” The firmness in his tone startled even himself. Though he tried to suppress it, Scorpius smiled.

“Okay then.” And the pure excitement, joy, bashful honour, all made Albus smile too.

Of course, that was when Rose Granger-Weasley chose to make her entrance.

“Again, this is just so the adults won’t ask questions,” she said as she perched directly by the door, presumably to make her escape from the Slytherin Squib and Dark Lord in Training the moment the train pulled out of the station. But she was just a person and it was just her thoughts.

“How was your holiday, Rose?” Scorpius asked politely, wrapping his arms around his presents as though trying to shield them from her. But it was unnecessary as she resolutely ignored him, staring at the compartment door handle rather than at either of the boys. Scorpius awkwardly wilted, and a sharp jab of irritation Albus did not miss over break but was sure to experience in high volume the moment he stepped back onto Hogwarts grounds flashed through his chest.

“Did you want help putting the bracelet on?” Albus asked him. Scorpius brightened immediately, and he fumbled to get it, setting the two books gently on the empty space beside him so he could lean forward and extend his wrist towards his friend.

“Yes, please. Thank you.” Albus inched forward and gently wrapped the bracelet around Scorpius's wrist.

“Bloody hell, you’re pale,” he mumbled, snickering when Scorpius huffed in false offence. He twisted the bracelet around so the clasp was hidden from view, and he held up his own wrist to compare the two. “Cool, huh?” Scorpius nodded in earnest.

“Where’d you even get those?” Rose asked (because she was apparently incapable of letting the two friends have a single nice moment on the train). She was eyeing the jewellery on each boy’s wrist sharply, like she was calculating, like she was judging because she was always judging everything Albus did just like everyone at Hogwarts and everyone at home and every bloody person in the entire Wizarding World.

“Lily made them for us,” was what Albus told her, barely raising his eyes to meet hers before turning promptly back towards Scorpius. “Jekyll and Hyde. Did he really have to create a whole potion just to sneak around? And for what?”

At the novella’s mention, Scorpius gave a little cheer as he clapped excitedly. “I don’t know, but isn’t it so similar to Polyjuice Potion?”

“It is! Are you sure the author wasn’t secretly a wizard?”

“Maybe he knew a wizard.”

“And disguised the story as fiction so Muggles wouldn’t get suspicious.”

“Now that’s a book I would read.”

“Same with 20,000 Leagues. I mean, c’mon. Giant squid?”

“But our giant squid doesn’t attack submarines!”

“I don’t think Verne’s ever seen a submarine.”

“Well if they did, they still wouldn’t attack it because Verne is a good giant squid.”

“Verne is the best giant squid,” Albus affirmed, and Scorpius laughed. The two quickly became engrossed in their book discussion, not even pausing to look at or say goodbye to Rose when the train started moving and she made a swift exit to find her friends’ compartment. All throughout the journey back to Hogwarts, the two boys laughed and grinned and laughed some more, even when night began falling outside and the castle loomed closer and closer.

But it was just a building, Albus reminded himself. And Scorpius was there. He would make it through his first second term. Everything was going to be fine.

(Scorpius,

I hope it’s still okay to say Merry Christmas. Though the holiday may have passed, this is technically still your Christmas gift, so I think it’s okay. I’m sorry that you weren’t able to open this on actual Christmas Day (or Eve, I actually opened yours on Christmas Eve at my grandparents’), but I’ll make sure that you’re able to next year.

On our first Hogwarts Express, you mentioned you liked reading Edgar Allan Poe with your mum. I wrote to my Aunt Hermione about him, and she found this collection of his work for me to give you. I took a peek inside and wow, he writes about death a lot. Is that normal for him? I didn’t expect you to like dark stories like that, but they are well-written so I don’t blame you. Hopefully you don’t have this book, but hey, the cover is pretty.

Before break, you also said that you were thinking about getting another copy of Murder on the Orient Express to annotate, so I got you one. I know you hate writing in books, so I wish you all the strength to annotate it. Or you can just slip pieces of parchment inside. Whichever method you choose, I hope you have fun.

This note is already longer than I thought it’d be, but I still wanted to thank you for the books and for being my friend. Hogwarts is a lot more fun with you around.

Oh, and Lily made this bracelet for you. She hopes you like it and that you had a happy holiday.

I hope you had a happy holiday, Scorpius.

Albus P.)

Chapter Text

In hindsight, maybe Albus should’ve asked Scorpius when his birthday was back when they were first getting to know each other. That is a perfectly normal question to ask someone, after all. It also would’ve saved him the sudden rising panic when, near the middle of February, Scorpius nonchalantly mentioned, “I can’t believe it’ll be my first birthday outside the manor.”

Cue Albus accidentally cracking his neck as he whipped his head to face his friend.

“Are you alright?!” Scorpius shrieked when Albus cried out and hunched over the table, pressing his hands to the back of his neck. The noise definitely attracted some attention and most certainly caused a ripple of snickers across the Great Hall, but Albus was too busy trying to process what he just heard.

Scorpius's birthday. Scorpius's birthday.

“You didn’t tell me your birthday was this month,” Albus said, waving away Scorpius's hovering hand. He blinked back at him.

“Oh. I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He blinked again. “Well, my birthday’s on the fifteenth of February. Day after Valentine’s Day.” He giggled, “It’s great because all of the sweets get discounted after Valentine’s Day, so I always get loads of—”

“You didn’t tell me,” Albus repeated, and Scorpius suddenly looked very small.

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Wait.” Albus finally straightened himself and turned his body towards his friend, who had shrunk back shyly and was now suddenly very focused on his marmalade toast. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad. I was just surprised. I can’t believe I never asked when your birthday was.” He waited until Scorpius peeked at him again before asking in earnest, “How old are you turning?”

Scorpius seemed to relax, raising his chin in exaggerated pride as he announced, “Twelve.”

“Damn,” Albus hissed, and Scorpius flinched in confusion. “So you are older than me.”

“Well, yes.” Scorpius snickered and raised a hand above Albus's head, referencing his shorter height. Albus swatted it away in protest as Scorpius poorly swallowed back his amused laughter.

“Is there anything you want for your twelfth birthday?” Albus asked, vaguely teasing. Scorpius's eyes widened, and he went to wave his hands in dismissal.

“You don’t—”

“I’m getting you a birthday present, Scorpius.”

“But you already got me a Christmas gift—”

“Your fault for being born so soon after the holiday.” Scorpius gaped as Albus turned away to wrap up a muffin for later, his plate holding a single pancake about a third of the way eaten. (And he wasn’t purposefully avoiding eating, he just wasn’t very hungry that morning.) “But really, is there anything specific you’re hoping for?”

Scorpius didn’t answer right away, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes as he averted his gaze again. “Some nice quills?” he admitted cautiously. “Coloured ink? So I can annotate the book you gave me.”

A pleasant warmth bloomed in Albus's chest, and he fought back the smile that threatened to overtake his lips. Instead, he leaned down to catch Scorpius's eye. “Okay.” He winked. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A faint flush seemed to be crawling up Scorpius's neck, but his lips quirked in a faint smile as Albus grinned and sat back up, sliding the muffin into his pocket. “And what about you, huh?” Scorpius challenged, having shook away the embarrassment (why would he be embarrassed?) to fix Albus with a questioning stare. “When’s your birthday?”

“June twenty-first.” He nodded at the answer and scrunched his face in thought, eyes suddenly serious as he seemed to contemplate. Albus couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s still ways away, you don’t need to think—”

“I’m getting you a birthday present, Albus.” He gave a smug look as he repeated Albus's words back at him. “And since it’ll be the summer holidays, I won’t have the chance to ask you what you want. Best to start thinking about it now.”

(Why were his cheeks getting hot?)

“Whatever you say,” Albus relented. Scorpius nodded in victory and took another bite of his toast. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Scorpius's entire demeanour seemed brighter, lips curled upwards and eyes sparkling like the snow currently covering Hogwarts grounds. With a calming ease settling throughout his nerves, Albus ripped off another piece of pancake and popped it into his mouth.

He only came to regret it later when he was sat in the library, quill shaking over a piece of parchment. For eating so little, the pancake made a great knot in his stomach, heavy and nauseating. He crossed out yet another line of the letter he had been attempting to write for the past fifteen minutes, the excessive pressure he applied causing a thick glob of ink to pool across the text. With a huff of frustration, he practically slammed the quill back into his inkpot and laid his face in his hands, fingernails digging into the skin above his eyebrows. Though he initially had other plans for his free period that day (the plans in question: laying on one of the Slytherin Common Room couches and watching Verne in the lake), he instead resolved to send out a letter in order to acquire Scorpius's birthday gift. He had been excited at first, scribbling away his request. But it didn’t take long for clarity to set in, and he had paused mid-sentence, quill hovering ominously over the parchment.

What was he doing? Writing home about Scorpius Malfoy again? Asking to get him a gift again? Acting like Aunt Hermione didn’t already go out and buy books on Albus's behalf or that his mum didn’t help him wrap them up mere weeks ago? And what would his father think, what would he say, would he write Albus another passive-aggressive letter trying to pressure him into invading his family members’ friend groups or would he drop the kind, caring pretenses and accuse Albus of… of what? What was he doing wrong? What was wrong with his and Scorpius's friendship? He was better off keeping it to himself at this point, wasn’t he? But how else could he get Scorpius a birthday present? He wasn’t even allowed to go into Hogsmeade yet, and though he was sure Neville would keep quiet about it should he ask him to go into the village on his behalf, that would just lead to his godfather asking him questions which, while they would be well-meaning and only out of concern, he really didn’t want to deal with, so—

Oh bloody hell.

Oh bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Scorpius would owe him big time for this.

(Of course he wouldn’t, Albus was doing this because he wanted to, but let it be known that Slytherins could also be kind and selfless and brave because Merlin, he would almost rather take his chances walking into the Forbidden Forest than doing what he was about to do.)

He felt ridiculous, lingering in the Entrance Hall as students trickled in for lunch. He stood pressed against the railing halfway up the stairs, allowing him to clearly see who was coming from both the corridors and the upper levels. In an effort to appear less lost and pathetic, he had quickly run back to the dormitory and grabbed Jekyll and Hyde to idly flip through while he waited for the sight of a certain annoying Gryffindor.

“Aw, poor lonely Slytherin Squib waiting for his Dark Lord in Training,” Polly Chapman cooed mockingly as she passed him on her way down the stairs. She was of course accompanied by Yann Fredericks and Rose Granger-Weasley, the trio of Gryffindors glancing him up-and-down. Yann outwardly snickered as Polly gave an exaggerated pout, but Rose did nothing except sneer at the sight of the book Albus held. She was the only one without laughter as the three turned into the Great Hall.

None of them were the annoying Gryffindor he had meant, Albus mused as he returned his eyes to the pages. In fact, this annoying Gryffindor would most likely be alone—

Someone shoved their shoulder against Albus's wrist, sending the book toppling from his grasp with a thump that went mostly unheard over the talk and movement of students. Albus could almost believe it had been an accident, except he caught the faint smirk on Karl Jenkins’s lips as he kicked the book further down the stairs. A lone figure, but not even a Gryffindor, Albus thought bitterly as he watched Karl kick the book to the side before marching merrily into the Great Hall. So much for “Hufflepuff kindness” or whatever.

Then suddenly, before the book could get trampled further, someone darted forward and scooped it up from the floor. Craig Bowker Jr dusted the front cover off before jumping up the few steps to reach Albus. “Here,” he said with a gentle smile, holding the book out to him. Albus blinked a few times before he took it.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, running his hand along the pages to ensure there were no creases. Thank Dumbledore, there were none. Craig nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Of course.” Then, after a beat of silence, he continued, “Karl’s a knob. He’s trying to act all tough, but really he’s just making a fool of himself. Don’t let him bother you.”

If it wasn’t for that “foolish knob” opening his mouth, Albus wouldn’t be stuck with the title of “Slytherin Squib.” He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the many names students called Scorpius came from Karl too. Still, he wasn’t about to spit in the face of Slytherin kindness (Ironic, wasn’t it? He wondered what his dad would say.), so he swallowed back this spiteful venom and nodded. “Yeah, I won’t.”

Craig smiled wider and nodded again. He took a step back down the stairs and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder towards the Great Hall. “I’ll see you in there?” Albus simply nodded, a gesture which Craig returned as he spun on one foot and hopped back down the stairs. Albus watched him go until the dark green beanie he always wore disappeared from view. That was… Huh. That was probably one of the most pleasant interactions he’d had with another Hogwarts student since… ever. Though considering the many jeers and insults and mockeries and now apparently physical intimidations he had been subjected to courtesy of other Hogwarts students, that wasn’t too grand of an achievement. He didn’t have much more time to dwell on it though, when he finally spotted the person he had been waiting for strolling into the hall.

“James!” Albus hissed, eyes darting around frantically to make sure his volume didn’t attract too much extra attention. Luckily, James bounded over as soon as he heard his name, a faint surprise in his smile.

“Hey, Al!” he exclaimed, stopping on the step below and leaning casually against the railing.

“Albus.”

“Huh?”

Albus winced and clutched Jekyll and Hyde tight against his chest, wrapping his arms completely around it until it seemed he was hugging himself. Apparently this whole “blurting out whatever came to mind” thing was continuing on from the holiday break. (And what was he even thinking? It was just a nickname.) He briefly sucked on his teeth before shaking his head and mustering out, “Nothing, forget about that.” James's smile had fallen and he looked like he wanted to press his brother more, but Albus quickly continued before he had the chance to get a word in, “Anyway, will you be in Hogsmeade this weekend?”

James continued to blink up at him in confusion. “Yes,” he answered, drawing out the last syllable as his eyes flickered uncertainly over Albus's face. “It’s Valentine’s Day weekend. I have plans. At least for this Saturday.” A smile suddenly returned to his lips, this one full of teasing. “What, you didn’t think your big brother could get a date for Valentine’s?” Albus groaned as James waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll have you know that I had to turn down several proposals these past two weeks. There are plenty of girls who want a piece of—”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Albus pleaded, pressing his hands to his ears. James's obnoxious laughter still slipped through his fingers.

“Don’t you want to know who it is?”

“So I can apologise to her in advance?”

“Why don’t you have faith in me? I know how to treat a girl right!” Albus stared back at him blankly. James dismissed him with a quick wave of his hand. “Ah, whatever. Just wait ‘till you fancy a girl. You’ll be practically begging me for advice on how to talk to her.” Albus continued to stare at him. James was, of course, unphased and continued, “But yeah, I’m spending the day with her in Hogsmeade on Saturday and then because Wood has no soul, he’s scheduled a Quidditch practice on Sunday. Said it would be perfect because the pitch was unreserved — no shit, it’s Valentine’s Day weekend! Everybody will be in Hogsmeade! But that just made it the perfect opportunity for the team to run some drills before the last few games of the season, Wood said. It will ensure Gryffindor wins the Quidditch Cup this year, Wood said. Like father, like son, I guess.” He shook his head in an appalled disbelief before offering Albus a small smile again, “Anyway, why’d you ask?”

Bloody. Hell.

“Nothing,” he quickly dismissed, ducking his head as he moved to rush down the stairs. “Forget it.”

“Hey hey, wait.” James caught his arm and brought him to a gentle stop. The two brothers were now stood on the same step, and any trace of a smile had disappeared from James's face as he regarded his younger brother with worry. “You clearly had something to ask me. You wouldn’t wait for me out here if it wasn’t important.”

“But it’s not.” Albus wiggled his arm out of James's grasp, focusing his attention on his scuffed loafers rather than his eyes. “Important, I mean. And besides, you have your own plans and I don’t want to—”

“It’s important to you, so it’s important to me.” He rested a warm hand on Albus's shoulder and gave it a light shake, as though trying to coax Albus open. “What were you going to ask me?”

The corridor had cleared out by this point, the clinking of cutlery and resounding laughter echoing from the Great Hall. Albus tightened his grip around his book. Scorpius would be sat at the Slytherin table by now, calmly enjoying his lunch and ignoring the stares or snickers of anyone else around him. There would be so many people around him, yet he would still seem to sit alone.

“It’s Scorpius's birthday on the fifteenth and I was going to ask if you could stop by a shop in Hogsmeade to pick up a gift for him for me but you’re gonna be busy all weekend so I’ll just figure something else out,” Albus burst in one breath. He wanted to shrivel up on the ground from the embarrassment of it all — Merlin, what had he been thinking?! All this waiting around, all this build-up, and for what? Something so trivial, so ridiculous, he was ridiculous—

“You didn’t write to Mum or Dad?” James asked. He was studying Albus, brows drawn together in thought, eyes holding anything but scorn. It was softer, gentler, a mulling curiosity that was far from judgemental, only seeking to understand. (How much easier his life at Hogwarts would be if people only took the time to understand.) “Or you wrote to Aunt Hermione for help with Christmas, right? You didn’t ask her again?” Albus mutely shook his head. A flash of understanding lit up in James's eyes, but it only made the furrow of his brows grow deeper. “What about Neville? Or Hagrid? I’m sure either of them would be more than willing to help, and it helps that they’re already on castle grounds.” Albus shook his head again. “I could ask them for you if you’re too shy—”

“They’ll ask questions. I don’t want to explain that it’s for Scorpius,” Albus interrupted sharply.

“Al…” James started hesitantly (if he noticed Albus bristle up at the nickname, he didn’t react). “You do know that… everyone here knows you two are friends, right?”

Oh yeah. Like Albus needed a reminder that his business was on the tips of everyone’s tongues, shared excitedly through fleeting whispers, not at all quiet, laced with mocking giggles which echoed along every corridor, every crevice of that blasted castle where his stomach was twisted into knots and nausea overcame him like waves and a heavy weight was lodged in the pit of his throat. Now would it really be all that surprising if he wanted to avoid all of that as much as possible, opting to duck his head and shrink in on himself and dart nearly invisibly throughout the day lest he accidentally look someone in the face, their eyes scanning him up-and-down only in judgement and scrutiny and barely-contained sadistic curiosity because was it true? Was Albus Potter really friends with Scorpius Malfoy? Was Albus Potter really not a true Potter? Was Albus Potter really the pathetic, bumbling, Slytherin Squib?

The worst part of it all was he wouldn’t be able to prove any of these questions wrong.

So, again, would it really be all that surprising if he sought to avoid all of that?

“That’s not the point,” was what he ended up mumbling because really, how could he say all this to James in a way that he would understand? How could he say it to anyone and expect them to understand? He could barely understand it all himself. He shuffled his feet back, subtly trying to walk out of James's grip. But James still had his hand on his shoulder and was gnawing on his bottom lip in serious thought, gaze no longer on Albus but towards the Great Hall doors. He was about to insist again that he would figure the gift out himself, but then James brightened and whipped back to point a stern finger in his face.

“Don’t move. I’ll be, like, two seconds.”

And then he was jumping down the steps and flying into the Great Hall, his robes billowing out like a cape behind him. Albus watched him go for a moment in a stunned stupor before contemplating rushing back to the Slytherin dormitories and hiding out there for the rest of lunch — for the rest of the day more likely, which okay wasn’t the most responsible thing to do, but he had never once claimed to be a responsible student and besides it wasn’t like he was even close to top of the class — he’d leave that responsibility to Rose — so it’s not like any of his professors would miss his absence and his classmates certainly wouldn’t and—

Maybe he should’ve spent less time ruminating and more time running because suddenly James was coming back up the staircase side-by-side with—

“Hi, Albus,” Dominique Weasley greeted warmly, and suddenly he wondered if maybe he should’ve taken the easy route and thrown himself down the staircase instead. At the very least, he would’ve been taken to the refuge of the Hospital Wing rather than speaking to his cousin on actual Hogwarts grounds for the first time since arriving there.

“Hi, Dominique,” he managed to say, pressing his book against his stomach as though it could act as a blockade to the whirlpool of bile currently swimming up his throat. What was this? What was he doing? What was James doing? He tried to communicate that question with his eyes, flicking quickly between the Ravenclaw in front of him and the Gryffindor beside her.

“Since you two seemed to reconnect a bit over Christmas, I thought you’d be more comfortable asking Dominique for help,” James easily explained, flicking the end of a pink ribbon that his cousin had braided through her hair. His smile appeared carefree, but his eyes lacked the usual mischievous twinkle. Instead, they seemed heavier, carefully gauging Albus for any sort of negative reaction.

“What did you need help with?” Dominique asked. Her pleasant smile had fallen at James's words, and she glanced at him before fixing her gaze back on Albus. Though they also held worry, Dominique’s eyes were soft and gentle, reflecting the afternoon light softly like a warm crackling fireplace on a snowy night. Albus breathed deep and remembered her words on Christmas Eve, the smiles she shot him, the reassurance when he opened his Slytherin jumper, how she said he was lucky to be getting a Christmas present from his friend. From Scorpius.

“Would you be able to stop by a shop in Hogsmeade over this weekend?” he rushed out as he exhaled. He screwed his eyes shut and shifted slightly away so he wasn’t looking at her head-on. “I know it’s Valentine’s and a lot of people have plans so no worries if you can’t, I just—”

“Take a breath, Albus,” Dominique interrupted soothingly. He tried not to gasp as he inhaled. He hadn’t even realised he’d just started rambling excuses. After a few beats, he risked turning back towards his cousin, who was once again smiling at him. “I actually don’t have any Valentine’s Day plans, so I can definitely stop by a shop or two for you.”

“You don’t?” Albus couldn’t help but ask, genuinely shocked. Dominique seemed used to this sort of reaction as she giggled.

“I don’t,” she repeated. “Believe it or not, some people just aren’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship.” Her tone was teasing, but it was impossible to miss the slight edge her words carried. As though she had been forced to repeat them over and over again. Like a constant defense of herself, who she was, a fight against outside perceptions and judgements that never ended. That she could never quite win. Albus felt his cheeks grow hot and his eyes widen.

“I-I wasn’t judging you!” he quickly defended himself, waving his free hand frantically. “I didn’t mean to-to judge, I was — I mean, I guess I was — I’m sorry, I—” He cut himself off with a small jerk as Dominique stepped forward and gently took his hand in hers, lowering it to his side.

“I know you didn’t mean to, Albus, it’s alright.” She held his hand for another moment before stepping back again, her smile turned sheepish. “I’m sorry if I seemed cross. Some people just… just don’t get it.”

“No, I understand,” Albus quickly reassured her. “I mean… It’s okay.” He finally managed to smile back at her, any tension previously stretched taut throughout his body slowly coming unwound. James, who had stood aside throughout their whole encounter, seemed relieved as he marched forward and squinted at Albus.

“So you’re shocked that Dominique doesn’t have a date, but you can’t believe I have one?”

“We weren’t talking about you, James,” Albus grumbled. Dominique fixed him with an amused look.

“Quite frankly, I still can’t believe you managed to snag a date,” she said.

“How dare you?!” James cried. “I even had options!”

“I know. Even more surprising.” Leaving James to be offended, Dominique hopped up the few steps to reach Albus. “So,” she started, eyeing the book in his arms knowingly, “is this about who I think it is?”

“It’s not for Valentine’s Day!” Albus suddenly yelled, watching Dominique press her lips together in an attempt to hold back laughter.

“I never said it was,” she said evenly, even as James nearly choked on his own laughter and had to turn around to recover. Albus wished (not for the first time) that he was better at magic so he could hex him. Nothing bad, just give his brother a quick electric shock or something! Then he realised (not for the first time) that these kind of thoughts were the reason he was sorted into Slytherin in the first place, so he shook his head and focused his attention back on his cousin.

“It’s Scorpius's birthday and I was hoping you could get me some things for him. I promise I’ll pay you back!”

Dominique waved a hand to dismiss him, “Don’t worry about that. I’m honoured to be doing this for you.” She glanced around before skipping up the rest of the stairs to the landing, where she plopped herself down and smoothed out her skirt. She patted the space next to her, and Albus slowly climbed up before sitting down. James followed, stretching out on the step below them and only shrugging when Albus sent a questioning eyebrow in his direction. “Now, what can I fetch for you?” Dominique asked Albus, James waiting curiously for his response too. With Jekyll and Hyde in his lap, he ran his hand over the cover and felt himself begin to smile as he answered.

The usual stone grey corridors of the castle were now draped with shimmery pink fabric. When a student walked past, white hearts formed above their shadow’s head. Couples were snogging in every possible crevice, which made Albus all the more grateful that he had made it a habit to walk with his head down. Even the library wasn’t safe from the Valentine’s Day fervour, paper hearts fluttering overhead and small bouquets of roses placed at the center of each table.

Which made this entire thing all the more embarrassing.

The Great Hall was notably emptier for lunch, mostly first and second years who weren’t yet allowed into Hogsmeade. The older students who were present sat among smaller groups, such as a huddle of Hufflepuffs who were comforting a crying girl, or by themselves. At the Ravenclaw table, Albus spotted Louis Weasley hunched over and drawing in a sketchbook the Potters had gifted him for Christmas, sandwiches untouched on the plate beside him. At least he actually managed to set food onto his plate. Albus couldn’t even look at the platter of sandwiches without feeling a bout of sudden dizziness.

(Some may argue that this dizziness was due to the lack of food currently in his system. Albus would argue that everyone should mind their own business and leave him be.)

Of course, the sight of his cousin forced his thoughts towards his other cousin — Louis’s older sister that was currently trudging through the lovey-dovey couple-invested Hogsmeade on his behalf. So he could get a gift. For Scorpius. On this weekend of all weekends. Why was he asking this of Dominique again?

“You alright, Albus?”

In his usual seat beside him, Scorpius leaned over and examined his face, eyes widened with a slight alarm. Albus blinked back. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Your face is kinda… red,” Scorpius said, raising a hand and letting it hover for a moment before ultimately gesturing widely towards Albus's face. Albus pressed the backs of his hands to his cheeks and — why were his cheeks warm? “Are you feeling ill? Do you need anything?” Scorpius continued, his worried eyes now reflecting the light from the candles hovering above them and — oh yeah, this was why he had asked Dominique to do this.

“No, I’m alright,” Albus insisted, smiling in an attempt to put his friend at ease. “Just a bit warm, is all.” Scorpius relaxed, lips quirking into a tiny smile as he nodded before taking another bite of his sandwich. This was why. Because Scorpius was so thoughtful and caring and kind so of course he deserved a birthday present. The timing of it all didn’t matter in the slightest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Albus jolted as a box of chocolates hovered in front of his nose. He craned his neck to look behind him, and Dominique smiled wider when he met her eyes. “I always get the family sweets for Valentine’s Day,” she explained. “And now you and Rose are here! So… here!” She shook the box, and Albus gingerly reached up to take it.

“Thank you,” he said, quickly taking note of the flower-patterned tote bag slung over her shoulder. Dominique beamed and crouched down to meet his eyes.

“I won’t tell Aunt Ginny if you won’t,” she teased, and Albus snickered in spite of himself.

“We are sworn to secrecy.” Dominique chuckled as she stood back up. He fully expected her to approach either her brother or their other cousins at the Gryffindor table, but instead she turned to Scorpius as she reached into her bag.

“And here’s one for you too, Scorpius!”

Scorpius, who had turned his focus to his lunch the moment Dominique first spoke, startled and whipped around to find her holding out a chocolate box. To him. For him. “Happy early birthday!” she sang quietly, not to draw too much attention. Scorpius, like in most of his interactions with Albus's family, seemed startled as he glanced repeatedly between the chocolates and Dominique’s smile.

“Th-Thank you!” he finally managed to muster, slowly taking the chocolates as though it would turn to mist between his fingers. He brought it close to him and examined the bright pink and green box before looking up again with a smile so bright it put all the candles in the Great Hall to shame. “Thank you! I’ll be sure to enjoy these!”

“I hope you like them.”

“Oh, I know I will! Thank you! Wait, I said that a lot already, haven’t I? Sorry—!”

“You’re welcome, Scorpius,” Dominique affirmed, both hands gripping the straps of her tote. Scorpius began to speak again, but instead pressed his lips firmly together and set the chocolates in his lap, fingers tapping against the sides. “Anyway, I’m meeting a friend in the library in about five-ish minutes?” She jostled her tote as though readjusting the way it sat on her shoulder. “So I gotta go, but I’ll see you both again at dinner?”

“Yes!” Scorpius exclaimed before running a hand over his mouth as people turned his way, his volume impossible to go unnoticed in the reduced noise of the hall. “I hope you and your friend have a good meeting.”

“Thank you, Scorpius. I do too.” She turned to smile at Albus, giving a nearly imperceptible nod before strolling out of the Great Hall. And Albus may have been daft in all things magic, but he knew subtlety when he saw it.

(Just as a cunning Slytherin would.)

“Thank you,” Scorpius said again, but this time he said it to Albus. His smile was gentler now but just as bright with ecstasy as he traced his fingers along the cardboard box. Albus stuck his own box in his pocket.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“I know you told her it was my birthday.” He chuckled, “I mean, you’re the only person here who knows, so it was pretty obvious. But still… That was nice of you.” His smile suddenly turned sheepish as he mumbled, “So, thank you.”

“I really didn’t do anything,” Albus insisted. “Dominique was the one who got you the chocolates all on her own. I didn’t tell her to do that.”

“But she wouldn’t have even thought to do it if you hadn’t told her my birthday’s coming up,” Scorpius argued. “So yes, you did do something, and I need to thank you.”

“You really don’t—”

“It’s the polite thing to do.”

“I know how to be polite!”

“But you’re rejecting my politeness, which is impolite.”

“That doesn’t count!” Albus protested as Scorpius opened the box and began admiring the assortment of chocolates stacked inside. “For example, I am now politely excusing myself to the bathroom.”

“Don’t get attacked by a troll,” Scorpius said as Albus stood. “You know… like Minister Granger in her first year and your dad and uncle had to—”

“I got the reference, thanks,” Albus dismissed, and Scorpius gave an awkward laugh before turning back to his chocolates. Albus had to consciously control his pace as he exited, and before he left, he caught Scorpius smiling into the chocolate box. A smile wormed its way onto his own face.

Yeah. This was why.

Dominique was waiting for him by the library doors. She held a small compact and was drawing hearts on her cheek with white eyeliner. Her pink eyeshadow glittered with each blink, and as Albus approached her, he became distinctly aware of the longing stares and sheepish giggles from students as they walked past her. Dominique, for her part, seemed totally unbothered as she snapped her compact closed and waved Albus over. “I hope it was alright that I surprised Scorpius with the chocolates,” she said as the two entered the (mostly empty) library. “Don’t want to steal your thunder or anything.”

“No, he loved it,” Albus quickly reassured her. “Thanks for that. I haven’t seen him smile that wide in ages.”

Something across Dominique’s expression shifted, and she bit her tongue as she absentmindedly twirled the ends of the lacy ribbon she had draped as a headband over her hair. “He’s very kind,” she murmured, and suddenly Albus's stomach twisted.

“Yeah.”

“You know I was made a prefect, right?”

“Uncle Bill sent Mum an owl about it.”

“Right…” She quickly glanced at him, her usual calm demeanour giving way to an uncharacteristic hesitation. “So you know that if anyone is… giving either of you a hard time—”

“Let’s go to the Muggle Studies section,” Albus said, turning his back on his cousin and marching over to the reclusive corner of the library. “Just in case Scorpius wanders in.”

The twist in his gut sat heavy with a knot of guilt as he heard Dominique’s soft footsteps follow his swift movements away. He shouldn’t be dismissing her this way. If anything, he should be nothing but grateful to her, for her kindness and concern. For her reassurance on Christmas Eve. For her actions today. For her offer of help. But still, a bitter thought lingered heavily like a thick fog over Albus's mind: Where was this before? Where was she before?

(Ungrateful. Just another ghastly Slytherin trait.)

He fought to recompose himself as the two cousins took a seat across from each other. He idly gathered the sleeve of his jumper in his fist and squeezed as Dominique reached into her bag and brought out the purchases: a pack of elegant, black-feathered quills and several different coloured inkpots. “I also found this,” she said as she set a tin of colour-changing ink on the table with a soft clunk. She shrugged, “Thought it’d make a fun addition, no?”

“It’s great,” Albus said in earnest, picking up the items with both hands as though he feared damaging them in any way. To be fair, that’d mean Dominique would have to go back into Hogsmeade to repurchase the same items which would mean more time and money wasted on his behalf not to mention the already wasted time and money spent getting said items in the first place making him that much bigger of an inconvenience and screw-up than he already was and maybe that’s why she avoided him all throughout first term and—

“I’m glad.” Dominique was practically beaming, bright with a pure sincerity that couldn’t for one moment be denied by anyone. Even Albus, who slowly set the items back down on the table as she repeated, “I’m really glad.” A smile of his own slowly crept onto his face, though she perked up and reached back into her tote before he could respond in any way. “Oh! And I got a nice bag to put it in. And tissue paper — green and silver because they’re your House colours and I’m not creative.”

“All the creativity went to Louis, huh?” Albus drawled only to realise that maybe that sounded just a bit rude and who was he to be saying these things about his cousin before Dominique laughed.

“Clearly,” she chuckled as she slid the bag and tissue paper across the table towards him. “Ask to see his drawings sometime. He could move to France and be an artist there if he really wanted to.”

“And your parents would be fine with that?” Albus couldn’t help but ask as he examined the tissue paper, sparkling with a dust of glitter.

“Maman would jump at any excuse to go back to France,” Dominique chuckled. “And Papa wouldn’t mind — After all, at the end of the day, don’t parents just want their kids to be happy?”

You would think so, wouldn’t you?

Albus fought to keep his face neutral as he offered her a tiny nod, focusing instead on packing up the quills and inkpots. The gift bag she had picked out was black and patterned with silver stars. They glistened with the glittering paper as he wrapped the items within the sheets and gently placed them in the bag. With the remaining sheets, he bunched them up on top so they stuck out above the bag’s handles. When he was done, he gently rotated the bag around so he could admire it from all angles. A starry night sky shimmering silver and green.

“It’s beautiful, Albus,” Dominique said. “Scorpius will love it.” This time, Albus was able to match her smile with one of his own.

“Thank you, Dominique. For everything.”

“Of course. What is family for?” If she noticed his smile begin to tremble at the edges, she didn’t react. Instead, she began to shoo him away, “You better go hide it in your dormitory, then get back to the Great Hall. Scorpius might start to worry if you’ve been gone for too long.”

“I’ll just tell him I ran into James coming back from his date,” he easily said as he slid off the library chair.

(Because of course he would be a quick liar as a Slytherin.)

“Let me know how he reacts to the gift,” Dominique said as Albus moved to leave. “And Albus?” When he looked back at her, she had stood too and leaned her body towards him, hands pressed against the tabletop. Her gaze was as intense as it was gentle, words firm yet as soft-spoken as her usual speech. “Remember that I’m always here for you.”

The lump that formed in his throat was near immediate, and he resisted the urge to hug the gift bag to his chest lest he risk crushing it. “Thank you,” was all he could manage to say, and when Dominique’s lips quirked up in a hesitant smile, he took that as a sign to turn and rush out of the library.

He blamed the dampness of his eyes on the sudden cold air that rushed over him as he descended into the dungeons.

(Because all Slytherins deserved to be sent to the dungeons.)

Chapter Text

Albus vividly remembered Scorpius's twelfth birthday. And not just because he had been screaming, crying, throwing up over getting his friend a birthday present. That’s not even mentioning the amount of screaming, crying, throwing up he did when it came to actually giving Scorpius the birthday present.

Albus vividly remembered Scorpius’s twelfth birthday because of his radiant smile throughout the entire day.

It started that morning in the dormitory, when Albus woke up early to sit by the window and attempt to summon Verne through squinting at the glass and hoping it’d feel his call. Part of him wished he could just use accio to bring the squid right to him, but even if the charm did work on living things, Albus had exactly 0 confidence in his spellcasting abilities and would probably cause Verne to crash right through the glass. At least then Lily would have the answer to her question of what would happen if the windows in the Slytherin dormitories broke. So instead, he chanted Verne’s name in his mind as though he were summoning a demon like in those Muggle horror movies he and James used to secretly watch.

(This was before the incident where after watching Annabelle, Albus threw all of Lily’s dolls out the window in the misguided belief that he was protecting his family from being plagued by murderous demonic entities. James thought it was hilarious. His parents and Lily, not so much.)

A strange mixture of excitement and panic rushed through him when he heard movement beginning to stir throughout the Common Room behind him, but he apparently forgot that oh yeah, people other than Scorpius exist as his fellow Slytherins began heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. He ducked his head as a girl glanced at him with an amused smirk from under her hood, turning back to the window and resolutely ignoring all other movement behind him as he put 100% of his focus into summoning Verne.

“What are you doing?”

“No!” Albus exclaimed, making Scorpius scamper back in surprise. “You’re not supposed to be here yet!”

“I-I’m sorry?” Scorpius squeaked, though he sounded more confused than apologetic. His eyes flickered around as though he were trying to spot something he had missed, though all he saw were snickering Slytherins and sleep-deprived students who looked like they were about two seconds away from curling up on the ground and going back to sleep. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to…” His brows scrunched up in confusion, “Wait, why am I not supposed to be here?”

Albus groaned and ran his hands over his face. “It’s not that you’re not supposed to be here, I was just trying — AHA!”

Scorpius stumbled back again as Albus let out a victorious shout and jumped to his feet, nearly colliding face-first with the glass in his sudden excitement. He pointed into the lake and watched with unrestrained glee as Scorpius’s entire face lit up.

“Verne wants to wish you a happy birthday,” Albus told him as the giant squid in question slowly floated by the boys. It seemed to hover for a moment in front of Scorpius, who enthusiastically waved before watching as it disappeared back into the blurry waters.

“Thank you, Verne!” he called after it, grinning until Verne was out of sight completely before turning back to Albus only to once again stumble back.

“Happy birthday, Scorpius,” Albus told him, on the precipice of mumbling as he held out the gift bag he had quickly stashed under his bed after his meeting with Dominique in the library. His gaze flitted quickly between the shimmering stars and Scorpius’s eyes, pupils blown wide in surprise.

Then he began to giggle, eyes shining brighter than the stars that patterned the bag.

“Thank you,” he nearly whispered as he took the bag from Albus, both hands wrapped around the handles as he brought it to his chest. He swung it back-and-forth gently with a breath of amusement before turning back to his friend with a giddy expression. “Can I open it now?”

“I dunno,” Albus couldn’t help but drawl. “Is it your birthday?”

“It is!” Scorpius exclaimed. “Wizzo!”

And with that, he plopped on the floor right where he had been standing and began to dig into the bag. With an amused chuckle of his own, Albus took a seat across from him and watched him open his birthday present with eager apprehension, hands scrunching up the fabric of his robe sleeves. He watched Scorpius’s entire demeanour brighten more and more with each item he pulled out of the bag, turning it this way and that to admire it as though it were made of diamonds, something priceless. He could beat the sun, Albus thought, when all of the gifts were spread out along the floor and Scorpius was practically beaming with excitement.

“Thank you so much, Albus!” he cheered, tapping his hands rapidly against his knees as he admired his presents. “Where did you even get all this?”

“Thank Dominique for that. I asked her to go to Hogsmeade over Valentine’s weekend—”

“That’s why you left lunch for so long!” Scorpius shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Albus. He shrugged.

“Guilty.”

“Hmph. You sneaky sneak.” His faux annoyance quickly melted away as a smile broke across his face again, and he picked up his new quills to gently run his fingers over the soft feathers. “My first birthday gift from a friend…” he muttered before repeating louder, “Thank you, Albus. And Dominique too, of course! Though I should probably thank her myself rather than telling you ‘Thanks, Dominique’ because you’re not Dominique and that wouldn’t make any sense and it would be rude to not thank her—”

“You’re welcome,” Albus said. “And happy birthday again.”

Scorpius’s smile grew impossibly wider at that.

“Any word from your parents?” Albus asked after the two had (very carefully on Scorpius’s part) put the gifts away in the dormitory and set off to the Great Hall.

“They sent me a letter last week to expect a parcel by five.” He groaned, “I have to wait all day.”

“Oh, so my gift wasn’t good enough to hold you over?”

“That has nothing to do with it. I just hate the waiting.”

Albus thought for a moment as they reached the top of the stairs. “That’s fair.”

“Exactly.” Scorpius’s smile had turned smug, but his eyes still glittered like the February snow covering Hogwarts grounds, grey beacons of pure happiness and excitement. A light rarely seen in this hellscape of a castle. Albus smiled too.

It fell as he let out a soft yelp and quickly reached out to catch Scorpius as he stumbled back for the nth time that day. Holding his friend by the shoulders, Albus peeked around to see four familiar figures lingering in the Entrance Hall just beside the Great Hall doors. He swore he could feel Scorpius freeze under his hands, though maybe he was just projecting his own sudden stiffness, shoulders rising up defensively like hedgehog quills at the sight of James Potter with Dominique, Louis, and Victoire Weasley.

Vaguely, he wondered why this reaction. This was no way to react to seeing your own bloody family members. But going from never interacting with any of his cousins to suddenly being face-to-face with three of them was unnerving to say the least.

(And that’s not even mentioning the strange look on Victoire’s face as she spotted the two first year Slytherins. Like she was staring at two foreign specimen. Like she couldn’t quite figure them out. Like they were odd. Like Albus was odd and unrecognisable and she was truly understanding for the first time that Albus Potter wasn’t a true Potter.)

“Surprise!” James shouted, gesturing to his fellow Gryffindor and the two Ravenclaws standing beside him with exaggerated, obnoxious jazz hands. He waggled his eyebrows in Albus’s direction, giddy at the boys’ behaviour telling of a successful surprise, before grinning at Scorpius and sliding across the floor to present him with a chocolate muffin. “The last one from the Gryffindor table,” he proudly announced. “Happy birthday, Malfoy.”

Before Scorpius could respond, Dominique darted forward and brandished her wand. “Makeshift candle,” she quickly exclaimed, twirling her wand until a tiny flame flickered on the end. She held it beside the muffin as James laughed.

“Does that mean we should sing?”

“No,” Albus quickly said, rolling his eyes as James pouted in response. “The last thing Scorpius wants on his birthday is for his ears to bleed.”

“I have a beautiful singing voice, thank you very much!”

“You sound like an owl giving birth.”

“The miracle of life!”

“It would be a miracle if you ever shut up.”

“Both of you shush,” Dominique interjected. “Scorpius needs to make his wish.”

The boy in question had been watching the brothers’ exchange with a bewildered amusement, and now he turned to Dominique and nodded gratefully before clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. Mere seconds later, he pursed his lips and puffed out the flame, laughing sheepishly at the cheers that followed. “Thank you,” he told everyone, accepting James’s muffin with a deep nod and holding it close to his chest with both hands.

“You’re turning twelve, right?” Victoire asked, arms crossed and leaning against one of the braziers by the doors. When Scorpius nodded, she barked out a laugh. “Damn. You’re a child.”

“No shit,” Louis told her (Albus was glad he said it so he didn’t have to) and, dodging her swipe at his arm, joined the little group with a black folder in his hands. “I was a bit pressed for time since I didn’t know your birthday was this month, but I hope you like it anyway.”

Scorpius startled when Louis held the folder out to him, glancing between it and the muffin he held with both hands. Albus silently reached over and plucked the muffin away, gesturing for Scorpius to take the (apparent) gift from Louis. Nodding quickly, he muttered a rapid “Many thanks! Very kind! What a surprise!” as he reached out with both hands. Albus peered over his shoulder as he flipped open the folder, revealing a glittering drawing of the Scorpio constellation. In the corner in elegant cursive, Louis had dated the drawing with a simple “Happy 12th birthday, Scorpius!” message written underneath.

“I added the glitter to try and make it look decent,” Louis explained. “I promise next year’s will look ten times better tha—”

“This looks amazing, what are you on about?!” Scorpius shrieked, startling everyone (except Albus, who had braced himself for an outburst the moment Louis started rattling out excuses). Any awkward tension that may have followed was quickly dashed by Dominique’s giggling that she tried to hide behind her hand. But unlike any other student who might have heard, her laughter wasn’t mocking or at Scorpius’s expense. Rather, her laughter was solely of good-natured amusement, clearly pleased by his reaction to the present. James was next to snicker, which only grew worse when Louis lowered his head in a giddy embarrassment.

“Not really, I promise I can do so much better—”

“You’re really talented then!” Scorpius exclaimed, hugging the drawing to his chest. “Thank you! I love it!”

“I really promise next year’s will be better,” Louis insisted, hiding his face in his hands.

“Oi!” Victoire kicked at him from her place by the wall. “Stop selling yourself short and just accept the kid’s compliment!” Louis groaned and only buried his face further into his hands.

“He says you’re welcome,” Dominique told Scorpius, placing her hands on Louis’s shoulders and shaking him teasingly. She giggled again, and Scorpius smiled.

“But you don’t have to make me another—” he tried to say, but Louis suddenly shot his head up.

“I will make a better drawing for you next year because next year you’ll still have a birthday and you get presents on your birthday,” he stated firmly, and Victoire nearly doubled over from how hard she started laughing at her brother’s uncharacteristic outburst. “Quiet, you! I don’t see you with any birthday present for Scorpius!”

“Hey!” Victoire cried. “I wasn’t aware we were doing this until literally ten minutes ago!”

“It’s fine!” Scorpius insisted, waving his hands in dismissal. “She doesn’t have to get me anything—”

“Why wouldn’t you want to get as many presents as possible?” James interjected.

“Because Scorpius isn’t a greedy troll like you,” Albus said. James gasped in exaggerated offence.

“I gave him the last chocolate muffin! That’s not greedy!”

“I bet you almost ate it instead.”

“No I didn’t!”

“He totally did.”

“You’re such a liar, Victoire!”

“You’re such a greedy troll, James.”

“Need I remind you of the lack of birthday present—”

“Shut up, Louis, no one asked you.”

“Hah! Selfish!”

“I don’t think that means she’s selfish per say—”

“Don’t defend her, Dominique, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m her sister, of course she’s on my side!”

“Louis, back me up here!”

“Dom, please make them stop.”

“I will never understand how you’re both so energetic at this hour.”

“I am so sorry about them,” Albus told Scorpius as his four family members continued bickering back-and-forth, the Gryffindors exchanging insults while the Ravenclaws questioned their life decisions. The Slytherins stood apart from the banter, leaned close and speaking quietly to each other. Albus cringed when he glanced towards the chaos that had erupted courtesy of his brother and cousins, but then he turned back to Scorpius to find his friend positively glowing with laughter.

“It’s fine!” he said. He reopened the folder and hovered his fingers above Louis’s drawing, as though he held a priceless treasure that shouldn’t be touched lest it risk being ruined. A smile that shone as bright as the glitter curved across his lips, and he raised his head to look at Albus’s family in a brief astonishment, as though he couldn’t believe they had actually organised this surprise for him, before turning to Albus and laughing again. “I’m having so much fun!”

Any tension previously coursing through Albus’s veins immediately evaporated at those words, and he found himself smiling back. Realising he was still holding the muffin, he held it out for Scorpius to take. “Happy birthday.”

“Yes!” Scorpius gently wrapped one arm around the folder, holding it against the left side of his chest, as he reached out with his free hand and just as gently took the muffin. Another exhale of laughter escaped him as he nodded enthusiastically at Albus’s words. “The happiest birthday!”

Albus’s twelfth birthday started with the earth-shattering bang of James and Lily bursting through his bedroom door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they screamed over Albus’s surprised “AGH!” as he flung his blanket over his head. They immediately burst into laughter as Albus felt himself flush. (From embarrassment? Annoyance? He could barely tell the difference these days.) He felt someone hop onto his bed and begin shaking him.

“Did we scare you?” Lily pestered, grin evident in her giddy tone. “Did we scare you?”

“No,” Albus grumbled as he sat up, shoving his blanket away. “That was just instinct.” Lily, predictably, didn’t buy that explanation for a second. She laughed again at that sorry excuse and turned to James, who was still standing by the door and watching his younger siblings with a great amusement he didn’t even bother trying to conceal.

“We scared him,” she announced happily, and James laughed with her.

“Maybe we should’ve gotten you better instincts for your birthday instead,” he told Albus as he made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed. Lily crawled over and settled beside him, still laughing over their successful scare. That was when Albus noticed the lumpy present wrapped in confetti-patterned paper James held, which crinkled as his brother held it out to him.

“If you start singing, I will push you off the bed,” Albus said as James began to open his mouth.

“You’re such a party pooper,” Lily whined as James lowered his head in exaggerated disappointment.

“It’s my birthday. I can be a party pooper if I want.”

“You’re gonna have one smelly party then,” James teased, causing both his siblings to wrinkle their noses and go, “Ew.” James raised his hands in mock surrender, “Hey, Al said it, not me.”

“It’s Albus,” Albus swiftly corrected, and — yep, there it was again. A brief flash of confusion across James’s face before he grinned and replied, “Albus. Sorry. I forgot you’ve gone all fancy full name now.” Confusion, like he found this new preference of Albus’s odd, teasing in an attempt to cover it up, a façade of acceptance as though Albus was inherently incapable of change and growing up and why was everything he did and liked always viewed with some sort of judgement?

“Anyway, this is from me and Lily,” James said as Albus took the outstretched present. He shared an excited smile with their sister, who was practically squirming with impatience as she waited for Albus to unwrap the gift. “We could’ve waited for cake, but it’s just so good that you have to open it now so everyone else won’t feel bad at how lame their presents are in comparison.”

“And you’ll be glad you did!” Lily added. “It’s that amazing that you’d have been sorry to have waited.”

“Why are you two giving me a sales pitch?” Albus said, eyeing the two with a vague suspicion.

“Just open it!” they exclaimed simultaneously, and Albus blinked rapidly in surprise.

“Okay, okay! Jeez…”

He half-expected it to be a gag gift, something his siblings had gotten from Uncle George that they didn’t want Ginny knowing about. But then he tore off the wrapping paper and found he was holding a pack of fine-tipped markers and a notebook with “reading log” printed across the front cover.

“Look inside!” Lily pestered, not even giving him the chance to do it himself as she reached over and flipped open the cover. “All the pages are like this!” she said, pointing to the graphics that were printed on each page. “See, here you can write the book title and author and then you can give it a rating out of five stars and here you write a summary and then here you write why you gave it the rating you did and—”

“Lils, chill,” James chided through laughter, pulling her back by the shoulder. “Al — Albus has eyes, he can see what it says.”

“He was being too slow!”

“Let me be slow if I want,” Albus defended himself. “It’s my birthday.”

“Who’d want a slow birthday?”

“So it lasts longer.”

Lily paused and pondered that answer for a moment. “That’s smart.”

“Wisdom straight from the Slytherin dungeons!” James declared, half-bowing in Albus’s direction. Lily quickly copied him with a giggle as he continued, “Thank you for sharing with us people of the sky.”

“It’s my birthday, so stop talking,” Albus said. Lily fell forward in a fit of laugher as James shot up with a loud gasp.

“Are you trying to cast silencio on me without actually casting silencio on me?”

“Yes. Now shut up.”

“The pens are to make it colourful and pretty,” Lily said before James could get another word in, rolling over to Albus’s side and pointing at the marker pack. “You can even make little drawings of the characters!”

“I’m rubbish at drawing though.”

“Practice makes perfect!”

(Not for everyone.)

“We thought it’d be easier for you to keep track of the books you’ve read this way,” James cut in to explain further. He had moved to sit on Albus’s vacant side and leaned lazily back against the headboard. “Or the books you want to read. I know Scorpius has been recommending you a ton.”

The mere mention of his friend’s name caused a smile to curl on the end of Albus’s lips. The “Scorpius Malfoy Book Recommendations” didn’t stop at Jekyll & Hyde or 20,000 Leagues. Really, he should’ve expected a boy with his own (well, technically his mother’s, but his by extension) library and a secluded upbringing (for reasons Albus still didn’t know but wouldn’t ever ask about) to have an extensive reading list. But somehow, Albus had sorely underestimated just how “extensive” this extensive reading list was. It didn’t help that Scorpius seemed to have an endless amount of “absolute favourites” to the point where Albus was legitimately wondering if every book ever written was Scorpius’s absolute favourite.

Still, he wasn’t about to tease his friend for something he was so clearly passionate about, give him any reason to doubt himself or hold his tongue about the things he loved. Think it odd. Scorpius wasn’t odd and Albus loved seeing his sparkling passion, so if that meant spending his summer trekking up-and-down library shelves looking for one out of the fifty million books Scorpius had recommended, then dammit that was what Albus’s summer was going to look like.

Frankly, he was surprised his siblings had took notice of this new endeavour of his, much less be aware of the reason behind it.

“I don’t think he’ll ever run out of books to recommend,” Albus chuckled in response to James. “I’ll be trying to catch up until the day I die.” James grinned.

“Or you’ll become a ghost and be trapped in a library for eternity.”

“That’d be heaven for Scorpius.”

“Not for you?”

“I’d think I’m in hell.” James threw his head back with a loud laugh. Albus let one of his own (albeit much quieter) slip past his lips.

“Is Scorpius coming to the party?” Lily asked suddenly. Where bright amusement had previously been resting in his chest swiftly solidified into cold dread twisting around his heart.

“I didn’t even want a party…” he murmured, distantly realising with an internal cringe that he sounded like a spoiled, whiny brat ungrateful for all he was given. He knew that this birthday party was his family’s way of showing they loved him, were proud of him, celebrating him, but it was hard to get lost in those intended feelings of celebration and pride and love when all they had done since the Sorting Ceremony (why did everything tie back to that godforsaken ceremony?) was make him feel like an outsider, like he was on the wrong path, odd.

That was the way his parents had looked at him when he shuffled up to their bedroom one night and said, “I don’t want a birthday party this year.” His mother put down the notebook she had been writing in. His father whipped around from where he had been choosing a suit for work from the closet.

“Why not, Al?” Ginny asked, and though her voice was gentle, he flinched as though he had been struck.

“Albus,” he corrected, ignoring the flustered expression that flashed across her face. “And I just don’t.”

That explanation (if you could call it one) caused Ginny to share a concerned look with her husband (of course concern, always concern, because Albus and his actions and his wants always called for concern). Harry’s tongue prodded at his cheek as he turned back to his son.

“So… you’d rather do what instead?” he asked. “Stay in your room all day like you did during the holiday break?”

“I didn’t stay in my room all break,” Albus argued. “And I dunno, I just don’t want a party.”

“But it’ll be everyone’s first time seeing you since you finished your first year at Hogwarts! I know they want to hear all about it.”

(How the hell was he supposed to explain that that was part of the problem?)

“But why does it have to be on my birthday?” Harry blinked, surprised, as though that was an unexpected question.

“Because it’s a special day! Your special day.”

“Well if it’s my special day, shouldn’t I be able to do what I please?”

“Of course, Al, it’s just—”

“My name is Albus.” He was getting real sick of telling others this.

“I know your first year hasn’t been the easiest,” Harry continued, completely ignoring Albus’s interjection. “Hogwarts… There isn’t anyplace in the world like it. And that can be overwhelming to anyone. I get it. I was once a first year too, don’t forget. But don’t take it out on your family. It’s not fair to us.”

Albus couldn’t help but bark out a laugh (because of course the feelings of his family would matter before his own). “All I said was that I didn’t want a birthday party. How is that ‘taking things out’ on you guys?”

“We can just have dinner and cake here at the house,” Ginny offered before Harry could reply. “No need to go out anywhere or buy decorations. This doesn’t have to be a big deal if you don’t want it to be, okay?” She smiled as though her suggestion was a reassuring solution, but Albus still felt a lump settling in his stomach.

“It’s just a chance for the family to see you,” Harry insisted, his tone soft as though meant to be soothing but his words firm and leaving no room for further argument. “After this, you can lock yourself in your room and not have to see anyone else for the rest of the summer if that’s your birthday wish.”

“I never said I wanted that,” Albus grumbled as Ginny shot a disapproving look in her husband’s direction. Harry caught her eye and, quickly realising the ineffectiveness of his “joke,” buried himself back in the closet. Albus heaved out a breath through his nose and turned to his mother, who was now leaning forward in bed and once again smiling at him.

“You can pick the dinner menu and invite whoever else you want. Like your dad said, it’s your special day. Alright?”

“Can I invite Scorpius?” was what Albus immediately asked, ignoring the way his father’s back immediately straightened at the name. The only thing that mattered was Ginny’s immediate nod in response.

“Of course you can. But you better write to him soon so he has enough time to make arrangements should he have to.” And for a moment, this “family dinner” that was really just a birthday party with another name didn’t seem so terrible.

“Is there anyone else you’d like to invite, Al?” Harry poked his head out to ask. “The more the merrier, right?”

(And just like that, he was reminded that it didn’t matter what he wanted, how his Hogwarts experience and now apparently even birthday experience was going because Harry Potter the Hogwarts Expert and Also Life Expert would fix everything to how he saw fit. No matter how many times Albus told him, pushed back, corrected, his father would find nothing but faults and oddities and “fix” it. It was his friends, his birthday, his own goddamn name, and none of it was under his control anymore.)

(But if everything Albus did was wrong, odd, maybe that was for the best.)

“No,” Albus told his father bluntly. “Only Scorpius.”

(Bullshit. All of it.)

He wrote to Scorpius the very next morning. It didn’t take long for him to receive a letter back — it never did. He could practically hear Scorpius’s excited voice echoing from the parchment, where he had repeatedly thanked Albus for the invitation and promised to be there.

(And if he had told Scorpius an earlier start time just so he could be the first one to arrive, then that was his choice. It was his birthday, after all.)

“But who doesn’t want a birthday party on their birthday?” Lily said, clearly bewildered by her brother’s attitude. Albus fought to urge to sigh.

“I should get to spend my birthday however I want.”

“Which is why Scorpius is coming,” James said, lightly nudging Albus’s arm. “So it’ll be fun. Right?”

When Albus looked over, his older brother was grinning in his usual, good-natured way, but his eyes held a gentler light in the unmistakable gleam of a question. Questioning if Albus was okay. Questioning if Albus would be okay. Questioning if there was anything else that could be done to make sure Albus was and would be okay.

Albus nodded. “Right.”

Because he would be okay. He was okay when he finally went downstairs and greeted his parents, already bustling around the kitchen and dining table preparing for the dinner. He was okay when Ginny wrapped him in a tight hug and pressed numerous kisses down the side of his face. He was okay when Harry wound him in a one-armed hug with a, “Happy birthday, Al!” and turning back to the cutting board before he heard the low, “It’s Albus.” He was okay when his parents asked to see what his siblings had gifted him, when Ginny gushed over the detailed pages of the reading log, when Harry only mustered a, “Very nice,” as he glanced repeatedly between the notebook and his youngest son. He was definitely okay when he stood outside with his mother and watched Draco Malfoy Apparate onto the pavement, Scorpius Malfoy stumbling on his feet beside him.

“You okay?” Albus called to his friend, unable to help the laughter lacing his words.

Scorpius shook his head as though trying to ground himself and, with a quick glance up at his father, unhooked his arm from Draco’s and approached the Potter house. “I can’t believe we’re expected to do that one day,” he told Albus incredulously. “That was horrible!”

“It gets easier with practice,” Ginny reassured him through a smile. “Trust me.” Scorpius immediately straightened when she began speaking and quickly bowed his head.

“Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Potter. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Scorpius. Friends are always welcome here.” Any remaining wooziness from the Apparation quickly disappeared from Scorpius’s face at that, and he beamed. Ginny suddenly peered around him and called, “The same goes for parents of those friends!”

Draco’s posture was stiff, arms held behind his back, and his expression carefully blank. He barely turned his head at Ginny’s acknowledgement, only nodding with a low drawl of, “Thank you.”

“Harry’s busy in the kitchen,” Ginny continued, gaze flicking between the two Malfoys before settling on Draco again. “I’m sorry he couldn’t come out to greet you.”

“We see enough of each other at the Ministry,” was Draco’s swift response before turning to his son. “I’ll be back to pick you up at seven.”

“Yes, dad,” Scorpius said. Draco appeared to be quite finished and ready to Apparate back to the manor, but he hesitated for a brief moment before turning to Albus.

“Happy birthday,” he said simply, and the shock of this unexpected birthday wish caused Albus to be momentarily stunned into silence before shaking himself to respond.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “And thank you for bringing Scorpius here.”

Draco gave a curt nod, then glanced once more at Scorpius before finally disappearing in a blink. Scorpius waved at empty air before exclaiming, “Oh! Here!” and handing Albus a gift bag. “Your birthday present! Happy birthday! We’re the same age again! At least until February, but that’s ages away! Next year! Eight months! I think. Maybe a little less than that considering it’s already nearing the end of June and—”

“Thanks,” Albus lightly interjected, finally prying the strings of the bag from Scorpius’s fingers. Scorpius gave a sheepish laugh, which only caused Albus’s smile to widen.

“C’mon then, you two.” Both boys jumped when Ginny called from the front door, waving them over. “Others are waiting to say hi.”

“Who else is here?” Scorpius asked Albus as the two made their way inside the house.

“No one besides my parents and siblings.” For some reason, he had to look away as he admitted, “You’re the first one here.”

“Malfoy!” James called as soon as they stepped past the threshold. Albus never thought he would ever want to thank James for his loudness, but his sudden greeting kept Scorpius from reacting to Albus’s confession (which wasn’t really a “confession” so why was he feeling so embarrassed about it?). Instead, his attention was brought to the oldest Potter child who was leaping over the couch and strutting up like the two had been best mates for years. “Glad you could make it.”

“Y-Yes!” Scorpius nodded brightly. “So am I!”

To Scorpius’s credit, he had gotten much more comfortable around Albus’s family. He appeared at ease beside James, who began asking him how his summer had been going thus far. He barely stuttered or hesitated to respond, chuckling good-naturedly to James’s jokes. Albus felt a smile begin to tug at his lips as he watched the pair interact.

“Hello, Scorpius.”

Harry Potter finally made his appearance, inching his way around the corner but never actually leaving the kitchen. He held worn black oven mitts and was wringing them between his hands as he offered Scorpius a shaky smile. Any lighthearted demeanour was instantly dashed as Scorpius jolted upright, clasping his hands in front of him as he offered a loud, “Hello, Mr. Harry Potter, sir!”

Albus frowned, which grew deeper when James began to laugh. Scorpius flushed pink and raised his shoulders up towards his ears as though he were a turtle trying to retreat into his shell. Harry, meanwhile, was looking like he regretted ever addressing the boy, eyes flicking back into the kitchen like he was searching for an excuse to slip away. “Just Mr. Potter is fine,” was what he finally said. He coughed out a sorry excuse for a laugh that sounded more like a giant sigh. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

(Not to be dramatic, but Albus wanted to shrivel up and die watching this interaction.)

Thank Dumbledore, Ginny swooped in and addressed the boys with a warm smile, “Why don’t you all gather in the living room? Lily brought down her jewellery kit, so you could all do that and chat while we wait for the others to arrive.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” James declared with a salute. He grinned when his mother shooed him away with a hardly-contained smile, turning down the hall to join her husband in the kitchen. Her husband who, as soon as she had drawn the boys’ attention, disappeared around the corner again. As though he couldn’t wait to get away. As though he had never wanted to be there in the first place.

Albus’s grip around the handles of the gift bag tightened into white-knuckled fists.

“Lily is still making bracelets?” Scorpius spoke to James, and that was when Albus realised his friend had easily fallen back into his previous lighthearted demeanour, smiling as he asked about the youngest Potter. James draped an arm over his shoulders to begin leading him towards the couches, catching Albus and dragging him along as he walked by.

“She’s obsessed,” he replied to Scorpius. “I told her she could open her own Hogsmeade business!”

“I would make millions!” came Lily’s proud declaration, causing Scorpius to let out a startled laugh as the boys entered the living room. As Ginny had said, Lily had brought out her jewellery-making kit. What she had failed to mention was that Lily had converted the coffee table into a bracelet assembling station, spools of thread and piles of beads of all colours leaving no surface of the tabletop uncovered. The bracelet-maker herself was sitting cross-legged on the floor, weaving pink and purple thread together. She looked up and narrowed her eyes at Scorpius. “Do you still wear the bracelet I made you?”

“Of course!” Scorpius exclaimed, pulling back the cuff of his button-up to show her the green bracelet on his wrist, silver beads glinting in the summer light. She seemed taken aback by this, sharing a shocked look with James. Albus was surprised too. Lily was his sister, and he didn’t even wear the bracelet she made for him all that often. Yet Scorpius, who had only spoken to Lily a grand total of two times, still consistently wore the bracelet she made for him six months later. “I really like it a lot! James was right — you could absolutely sell these!”

Albus thought this was the biggest smile Lily Luna Potter had ever worn in her life.

“You’re my new favourite person,” she declared and patted the space on the floor next to her. Scorpius seemed slightly bewildered by the invitation, and he turned to Albus briefly as though seeking confirmation. Failing to bite back a smile, he nodded and gestured to his sister. Scorpius shuffled over and gingerly took a seat. Lily immediately threw her latest project aside and began rifling through the spools to show him all the different colours of thread she had. “Do you wanna make your own? I can teach you to make your own.”

“I’d love to!” he exclaimed, and Lily squealed with excitement.

“Keep her distracted,” James whispered to Albus as the two began picking their bracelet colours. “I’ll sneak upstairs and grab our bracelets.”

Albus fixed him with a furrowed brow, “Why?”

“Otherwise Scorpius would make us look bad as her brothers!”

“I really don’t think anyone cares.”

“I’m going to go pee!” James announced, and Albus barely resisted the urge to facepalm.

“And now the yellow thread’s been ruined,” Lily groaned, tossing the spool back onto the table. James snickered, winked obnoxiously at Albus, and strolled out of the living room.

“Come make bracelets with us, Albus!” Scorpius said brightly. He had picked blue and grey thread, and he waved the spools over the space next to him as though attempting to summon Albus to that spot. He positively beamed when Albus sat down, setting the gift bag on his other side. Lily grinned at him too and pushed her vast selection of thread towards him.

James came back quickly, red and gold bracelet now securely on his wrist. He smugly dropped Albus’s in his lap, who rolled his eyes as Lily ordered their older brother to pick his colours quickly as her lesson was about to begin. Under the table, Albus attempted to tie the bracelet on, but it proved rather difficult one-handed and he wondered how the hell James had been able to get his on.

Another bracelet inched forward and hovered uncertainly by Albus’s hands.

“Would you like some help?” Scorpius whispered, and Albus tried not to jerk back at the sudden change in proximity.

(He wasn’t even that close. There was still plenty of floor space between them, and though Scorpius had ducked his head to ask, he hadn’t inched forward at all. The only place at risk of touching were their hands. Merlin, Albus needs to stop being so dramatic about every little thing, this was nothing.)

“Sure,” he told Scorpius, who let out a breathy chuckle as he took the ends of the bracelet and nimbly tied it on. When he was done, he held his own wrist next to Albus’s to compare their bracelets.

“Still matching,” he said happily, and he didn’t even give Albus a chance to respond (not that Albus would know how to respond to that) before he was turning back to Lily with an expectant grin. Albus found himself running his thumb over the bracelet before shaking his head and picking up his thread again as Lily began to walk the boys through the art of bracelet making.

It was a lot of fun. Never mind James’s impatience at the meticulous weaving process or Scorpius’s tendency to get tangled in the thread or Albus’s complaints of the knots forming in his shoulders or Lily’s frustration at having to squint to see properly. The Potter kids relayed stories of attending Muggle schools to Scorpius’s fascination, and Scorpius recounted his experiences growing up in Malfoy Manor to the Potter kids’ curiosity. It was fun. They laughed and cheered when something went right with their bracelet and talked and groaned when something went wrong with their bracelet. Albus was having fun.

“Al!”

Rose Granger-Weasley thundered into the living room. She shoved aside Scorpius’s present to plop herself down beside Albus and give him a tight (quick) hug. “Happy birthday!” she cheered, smiling brightly from ear-to-ear as she pulled away. Albus could barely contain a grimace as he surveyed the new situation.

In the entryway, his parents were catching up with Aunt Hermione, who held a wrapped present in her arms. Uncle Ron leaned over the back of the couch to talk to James, who hadn’t even bothered to turn his body fully around and instead rested his head on the cushions to speak with him upside-down. Lily had jumped up to meet Hugo and was gesturing wildly to their bracelet-making endeavour. Scorpius was the only one by himself, fiddling with his uncompleted bracelet and refusing to raise his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus caught Harry glancing at his friend before flicking his gaze to Albus and Rose and—

Oh.

Right.

This was the company Harry Potter wanted his son to keep.

Albus turned back to Rose, whose smile was growing steadily more strained around the edges. Around her eyes, which wouldn’t (or couldn’t) directly meet his, flickering to his ear or the wall. She wasn’t the only one waiting for a response. Albus reached out to pull Scorpius’s gift into his lap.

“Right.”

Chapter Text

“I’m just asking if you’ll just — just stand a little away from me.”

Albus lowered his head and shuffled back until he was leaning against a pillar, placing his trunk on the ground like a physical barricade to firmly separate himself from the rest of his family. His parents and siblings stood clustered together on Platform 9 and 3/4, far enough away that people walked between them on their way to board the Hogwarts Express. Albus watched his family’s expressions shift with each passerby obscuring their faces for a moment, carefree and laughing to confused and staring.

Lily’s shift was the most noticeable. James had been pushing her around on his trolley, where she squealed with her hands in the air as she sat on one of his trunks. But when Albus spoke, her arms dropped and her smile vanished, cocking her head to the side at the distance he had put between them. She had been a bouncing bundle of excitement all morning, which wasn’t all that unnatural for the situation. Every time she went to the platform, she could hardly contain herself. But this time was different. This was the last time she’d go to the platform as a non-Hogwarts student. At least that was her reasoning for her behaviour. James was convinced the real reason was that she was happy to be getting rid of her brothers for the next four months.

“Dang,” he chuckled when Albus moved. “Guess you’re not the only one who hates me, Lils.”

“I never said I hated you,” Lily groaned as Albus tried to bury himself in his (Slytherin) robes. “Though I am willing to reconsider.”

“Oi,” Ginny scolded, reaching up to bring her daughter down off the luggage. “Don’t say that. Families don’t hate each other.”

Were the Potter-Granger-Weasley family aware of that?

Ginny ran her hands through Lily’s hair in a futile attempt to tame her flyaways, lips twitching upwards with a fond smile as she did so. Then she glanced over her shoulder at her youngest son, and suddenly her lips began twitching downwards with a worried frown. Her entire demeanour seemed to melt with that concern. All caused by him.

“Do you want a go, Albus?” James asked, pushing his trolley back-and-forth. Albus would never not be amazed by his brother’s ability to keep up a smile, even when his irises harden like ice with intent observation and his motions become more erratic to compensate for his unease. Case in point, James was grinning at his brother, but his eyes rigidly scanned him up and down as he waggled his shoulders. “We could do a quick lap along the platform. But you’ll probably wanna do two with how much fun you’ll have.”

Albus hadn’t even opened his mouth to respond when his father, who had previously been standing still beside the group and just staring at his middle child, burst into laughter. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen, James,” he said, playfully slapping his oldest on the shoulder. “Second years don’t like to be seen with their families.” He gestured to the distance between the four of them and the lone figure by the pillar as though that explained everything. As though he had it all figured out.

But of course he did. Because Harry Potter was the Hogwarts Expert. How could Albus have forgotten?

“No,” he halfheartedly protested, turning his body away from his family and instead towards the loitering train. Its steam wriggled along the platform and wrapped around his ankles as though trying to drag him into one of the carriages. From one set of judgements to the next. “It’s just that… you’re you and I’m me.”

“Now what does that mean?” Harry asked, puzzled, as though he were entirely clueless to the countless gawkers milling around the platform, sidelong glances lingering as they cruised by, pointing fingers and laugh-laced whispers accompanying their movements. All around them. All the time. This always happens. Was he really that bloody clueless?

“It means I’m the disappointing Potter.”

“What?” Harry’s face only contorted into deeper perplexity, and he exchanged a quick glance with his wife like he was searching for confirmation that he had heard Albus right.

He did. He knew he did. He just didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to listen.

(Why does nobody ever listen?)

“I’m the Slytherin Potter!” Albus declared dryly, crossing his arms over his chest (over the serpent emblem on his robes) and sinking against the pillar. As he lowered his head, he watched the Hogwarts Express puff out another cloud of steam, as though it too were laughing at him. He wondered if the Sorting Hat had been laughing at him when he dragged his way over to the Slytherin table after his sorting. He wondered if it was still laughing at him now. He wondered what he did to deserve all this laughing.

“Oh you slithering Slytherin!”

Albus jolted as James jumped over his trunk, smashing through the blockade Albus had built between himself and the rest of his family, waving his arm around like a snake. His voice was sing-song and teasing, his grin even more so, but his eyes were flat and still and completely lacking any of his usual bright cheerfulness. Rather, his eyes were flicking quickly between Albus and the train as he continued, “Stop with your dithering — You’re still a Potter, aren’t you? And it’s time for us Potters to get on the train!”

“Unnecessary, James,” Harry scolded in exasperation. James turned and resumed his snake-arm motion, snapping his hand in his father’s face like a mouth and laughing aloud at Harry’s annoyed flinch.

“James,” Ginny said disapprovingly. “Keep your hands out of people’s faces.” She raised a warning eyebrow towards Lily, who had begun to copy her oldest brother’s actions and was slowly raising her own snake-arm towards her mother’s face. She quickly tucked it away as James only laughed again.

“See you all at Christmas!” he shouted, merrily swinging his trunk as he raced towards the train doors. He quickly glanced back at Albus as he hopped aboard before one of his friends already inside snagged him by the shoulders and dragged him further along the corridor. He wanted Albus to follow him. Albus should follow him. But he didn’t get the chance as out of his peripheral vision, he noticed his father inching closer to him, testing the boundaries that James had just burst.

“Al—”

“My name is Albus!” he all but snapped, and Harry had the audacity to look confused. Startled. An outburst that had come out of nowhere as though Albus hadn’t spent the past six months constantly correcting him. It was like his father never even listened to him at all (should he really be surprised at this point?). “You’re the one who chose it. Please use it.”

He turned away and fiddled with his robe sleeve, just so he’d have something to occupy himself that didn’t consist of looking at Harry’s calculating expression. Like he was trying to figure out what was wrong with his son. Because of course something must be wrong with him.

“Hello, Uncle Harry!”

Never did Albus think he’d be grateful for Rose Granger-Weasley, but there he was letting out a sigh of relief as his cousin snuck up behind her uncle and gave him a quick hug. Close behind were her parents and brother, with Hugo immediately rushing towards Lily to presumably geek out over it being their last year merely chasing the train out of the station. Vaguely, he wondered if he should warn them to keep their expectations of their future “Hogwarts experience” low.

“Hey, you,” Harry laughed at his niece, placing his hands on her shoulders and smiling at her. Widely. Proudly. Rose in her Gryffindor robes, standing tall and smiling, glowing with excitement at being back on Platform 9 and 3/4 about to board back onto the Hogwarts Express to go back to Hogwarts with her countless friends and praising professors and top marks. “I’m afraid you just missed James.”

“Still as impatient as ever, huh?” Ron mused as he greeted his best friend.

“I think somehow it’s gotten worse.”

“Oh, wherever does he get it from?” Hermione teased, chuckling with Ginny when Harry sighed.

“And I think it’s spreading,” Ginny whispered, nodding towards their two youngest children glancing longingly at the current Hogwarts students boarding the train. The two women laughed harder, waving Lily and Hugo away when they glanced curiously at their mothers.

“Mate, what have you done?” Ron shook his head in mock disapproval, snickering when Harry shoved him in the direction of their wives. “And don’t think you’re exempt from this,” he told Rose, who frowned at her father’s teasing remarks. “Might I say you’re even more impatient than your brother and cousins combined!”

Albus snorted in spite of himself. They turned towards him at the sound, and he quickly lowered his head again, though not before catching the annoyed glare Rose was shooting at him from over Harry’s shoulder. Just out of his sight.

(Though even if his dad were to see it, maybe he would think he deserved it.)

“I’m not impatient!” Rose argued, bringing the adults’ attention back to her (not that it would linger for long on Albus anyway). “I’m just determined.” Her frown quickly melted away when Ron brought her into a hug.

“I know, and we love you for that.” He planted a kiss on her head, and Rose smiled. Movement further down the platform suddenly caught her eye, and she perked up before disconnecting from her father’s hug and pointing in that direction.

“I’m going to say hi to my friends!” she said brightly. Excitedly. Ron nodded and took his daughter’s trunk as she raced off. Polly Chapman and Yann Fredericks stood near the tracks talking to a short girl with a dark bob that Albus vaguely recognised as Viola Parkington, a Ravenclaw in their year. But (of course) Rose had much more than a “vague” recognition, and she glided seamlessly into her place in the little friend group. Polly squealed and threw her arms around her, the two girls jumping in place. Yann grinned at Rose and, when Polly stepped back, reached over to high-five her. Rose was positively glowing as she linked arms with Viola, who giggled and briefly leaned her head on her shoulder, before she suddenly perked up and began shouting for someone. The rest of her friends were quick to join in, waving over Karl Jenkins, who settled next to Yann and said something that made all five of them burst into laughter. Bright. Carefree. Friendly.

Albus turned away and tried to hide the way the sight made his chest sting (it didn’t hurt, but it did burn). But of course, because this was the season of the Slytherin Squib, his expression didn’t go unnoticed by Harry Potter. At least he had the decency to speak quietly to Albus as Ron approached Hermione and Ginny, a conversation between only the two of them. Albus just wished his father would stop looking at him like he was a lost puppy. Like he was helpless. Pitiful.

“Are the other kids being unkind?” he asked, and Albus nearly wanted to laugh (would it even sound like a laugh if he tried?) at that. Sure. Unkind. “Is that it?” He didn’t even wait for Albus to respond (not that he would) before he continued rambling on, “Maybe, if-if you make a few more friends—” (the “like Rose” part went unspoken) “I mean without Ron and Hermione, I wouldn’t have survived Hogwarts—”

“I don’t need a Ron!” Albus exclaimed, throwing his hands up as he took a definitive step back (when did his dad get closer?). The man in question halted his conversation with his wife and sister, turning around quizzically. Lily and Hugo had stopped talking too and were openly staring. Albus risked a quick glance towards Rose and her friends, though thank Dumbledore they were too far away to hear. He caught the surprised look on his father’s face before he ducked his head again, saying more quietly, “Or a Hermione, I…” He suddenly met Harry’s eyes, chin lifted in defiance (not that he should have to be defiant about this, but when have things ever been as they “should”). “I’ve got a friend,” he declared, watching Harry’s surprise melt into strained patience. “Scorpius. And I know you don’t like him, but he’s all I need.”

“Look,” Harry quickly defended himself, “as long as you’re happy, that’s all I want.”

Right. Because all that mattered was what Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Saviour of the Wizarding World, Hogwarts Expert wanted.

Riding off this sudden energy, Albus harshly scooped up his trunk, ignoring the way it screeched against the platform. Ginny had come up to them after his outburst, approaching her son with clear concern etched across her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but Albus took another stepped back, out of her reach, and looked between both his parents. “You didn’t need to bring me to the station.”

Ignoring the hurt that flashed across their faces (and the words his father tried to shout after him), he turned and hurried onto the Hogwarts Express. The train’s smoke wrapped around him as he climbed the few steps onto the carriage, dragging him from the judgements of the Potters to the judgements of the entire Wizarding World.

Rose found him soon after the train whistle blew to signal their departure. She rushed into his compartment and plopped herself down on the opposite seat. The entire time, she wore a radiant smile — so radiant she might as well have been shining a lamp on her face with how artificial it was. She didn’t even look at Albus once, instead focusing on waving to their family out the window. Albus looked over and, through the wisps of smoke floating along the platform, found them all to be waving enthusiastically back. Unintentionally, he caught his father’s gaze, who looked between his son and niece with pure unmasked relief. Because Albus didn’t have many friends and he hated the one he had and Rose was the type of company he wanted him to keep.

Albus forced his lips to curl upwards as he waved too. The train lurched and began slowly pulling out of the station. “Once the train leaves, you don’t have to talk to me,” he told Rose as their family disappeared from view. He didn’t look at her either.

“I know,” she said simply. “We just have to keep the pretence up in front of the adults.”

How much longer can you stand to do that? Albus wondered. Quite frankly, he was tired of having to play nice with his cousin, and he hadn’t even been trying that hard to begin with. But he didn’t get the chance to voice this thought aloud (not that he would) as the compartment door hesitantly slid open and the cousins jolted.

“Hello,” Scorpius Malfoy greeted, glancing between his two classmates with a smile that grew a bit awkward when he met Rose’s cold stare. As quick as their eyes met, Rose whipped her head towards the ground to heave up her trunk and practically jumped from the seat.

“Bye, Albus,” she said, turning sharply towards the door and making a swift exit, shoving past Scorpius as she nearly ran down the corridor to find her friends. The usual twinge of annoyance that came from interacting with her (with any Hogwarts student — just being at Hogwarts really) made itself known in Albus’s chest, and he found himself tensing his jaw. Scorpius still stood in the doorway staring after the way Rose had gone, and Albus was about to apologise when his friend suddenly turned to him.

“I think she’s warming up to me,” he said, breaking into a smile. This smile was genuine, humorous, bright. Albus couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, and James has begun to annoy me less.”

“It could happen! You never know.” And with that, Scorpius finally joined Albus in the compartment.

“You kinda disappeared over the summer,” Albus said as his friend settled opposite of him. “After my birthday, I mean. I feel like we hardly exchanged letters.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius chuckled sheepishly, avoiding eye contact, his smile once again awkward and forced. “Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Albus quickly reassured him, internally kicking himself for even bringing it up (and why was he bringing this up?) “I just—” He stuttered over his words (why was he stuttering?), “Well, I mean, I was just wondering if everything is okay, is all.”

“Yeah,” Scorpius said, though Albus couldn’t tell if that was a genuine answer or if he was simply repeating himself from before. At least his smile had softened, and he looked back up with something akin to gratitude in his eyes. “Spent a lot of time with my parents in the manor. It was only us for a long time, so this whole ‘Me Going to Hogwarts’ thing is something we haven’t gotten used to yet.”

Of course. Families got along and spent time together. Wanted to be together, regardless of likes or dislikes or Houses or friendships.

“Good time, then?” Albus asked, trying not to sound snappish or bitter. There was no reason for him to be bitter. It was fine. His family just did things differently. Treated each other differently.

(Treated him differently.)

“Very much!” Scorpius nodded happily. “Mum and I read some books I think you’d like. But that’s for later.” He shifted in his seat, unusually fidgety, and sat on his hands. “How was the rest of your summer? After your birthday, of course.”

“Fine, I guess.” Albus shrugged. “Dad kept getting on my nerves, though. Constantly telling me to try making more friends or hang out with my cousins at school. It’s so annoying and he never listens to me even when I tell him I don’t need to.”

“They seem nice, though,” Scorpius spoke up, but Albus scoffed at this defence.

“Yeah, nice at my birthday party that I didn’t even ask for after ignoring me at school for the entire year. And it’ll be the same thing this year. You saw Rose rush out of here. I’m a bloodline embarrassment.”

“You’re not,” Scorpius stated. Firmly, like it was a fact no one should even bother trying to deny. “Besides, Dominique and Louis have been making an effort, haven’t they? You have them.”

It was Albus’s turn to avoid eye contact, biting harshly on his cheek as he glanced down. It was impossible to miss the green colouring his uniform. Yet he thought of Dominique’s lack of hesitation to sit on the floor next to Albus at the party, handing him a glass of lemonade with a smile. He remembered Louis’s eagerness to borrow Lily’s paints and give Albus a “temporary birthday tattoo,” painting a “12” made up of bright carnations on the back of his hand.

He remembered their exclamations of excitement when they spotted Scorpius, and how hard he had laughed with them in lively conversation throughout the evening.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” Albus decided. “But really, summer was boring. We didn’t do much or go anywhere all that exciting. But Dad tried to get me to join them in the yard to play Quidditch multiple times, even after I told him I hate Quidditch.”

“Right?!”

The boys jumped as the compartment door banged open. The girl standing in the corridor looked instantly apologetic, waving her hands in front of her, “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle.” Then, just as quickly as her expression dropped, she grinned and relaxed against the threshold. “I’m not the biggest Quidditch fan myself. People tend to get a bit too competitive for my liking.”

“Uh — Who are you?” Albus couldn’t help but ask, slightly perturbed by the unknown student practically in his and Scorpius’s compartment and talking to them with a smile. Scratch that — just the fact she was talking to them at all. She wore Slytherin robes, but that hardly eased his nerves. It did nothing, in fact, to ease his nerves. He learned very quickly last year that no matter what House a student belonged to, they all agreed on one thing: Albus Potter, the Slytherin Squib, was only someone to mock and never have a genuine conversation with. Not to mention Scorpius Malfoy, Dark Lord in Training, was also someone to avoid. Yet here this girl was, doing exactly the opposite of all that.

It seemed Scorpius shared a similar sentiment, staying silent as he glanced the girl over up-and-down. Though his eyes held less suspicion and more curiosity. The effect of her presence didn’t seem to go unnoticed by the girl as she straightened herself and leaned towards them.

“Why,” she chuckled, “I’m a thief, of course.” Then she suddenly whipped out her wand and jabbed it in their direction, causing both boys to scuttle back along the seats. Her face was contorted into a sneer as she barked, “Give me your trunks and all your gold and your Chocolate Frogs!” And as quickly as she seemed poised to attack, she dissolved into amused laughter. All fiery fierceness melted from her face as she smiled teasingly, straightening herself in the threshold once again and slipping her wand back in her robe. “Either that, or I’m Delphini Rowle.” (And if she noticed the wide-eyed glances the boys shared at the mention of her last name, she didn’t react.) Placing one hand over her heart, she gave a mock bow as she declared, “Delphi. At your service.” Once again standing, she held her hands behind her back and looked between the two expectantly. “And you are?”

There was no way she didn’t know who they were. Especially if they were in the same House. Still, Albus couldn’t help but appreciate her allowing them to introduce themselves instead of immediately jumping to her own conclusions about who they were. Who he was.

“Um—” Across from him, Scorpius shot a quick glance his friend’s way before looking back at Delphi, who now directed her full attention towards him. “I-I’m Scorpius. Scorpius… Malfoy.”

“Right.” Delphi snapped and pointed at him. “Draco Malfoy’s kid. My Uncle Thorfinn was a Death Eater with your dad.”

“Yeah…” Scorpius muttered, shrinking away in an awkward embarrassment.

“I know,” Delphi sighed, and the genuine understanding in her tone made Scorpius look back up at her. “It’s all a bit… yikes, isn’t it?”

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” Scorpius replied, and Delphi chuckled, the shadow that had passed over her face when talking about her family history disappearing in a blink. Scorpius looked away again, but was clearly fighting back a chuckle of his own. In just mere seconds, he’d been able to form a connection with someone else. Someone that could empathise with his struggles, truly understand what he was going through.

Good for him. Really.

(Albus shouldn’t be feeling at all bitter over this. Scorpius deserved other friends, more choices for company, choices that wouldn’t cause him constant judgement. And that was fine. Really.)

Albus didn’t even realise Delphi had turned to him until Scorpius gently nudged his foot. She was wearing a patient smile as she looked at him, and Albus took a deep breath as he managed to say, “And I’m Albus.”

He cringed at Delphi’s exclamation of recognition.

“Of course! You’re Albus Potter!” She let out a breathy laugh in what seemed to be disbelief and began swinging on her feet. “So. Harry Potter’s your dad. That’s a bit wow, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Albus told her bluntly, and he once again watched her expression morph in less than a millisecond. Her smile dropped and she stilled, hunching her shoulders and grimacing.

“Have I just put my foot in it?” she asked, glancing towards Scorpius for a moment as she did so. Scorpius gave a little nod, but he at least seemed sympathetic as he did so. At his confirmation, Delphi squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “Sorry,” she said, turning back to Albus. “You know, that’s what the other students say about me.” She leaned her weight back on one leg and mocked, “Delphini Rowle. There isn’t a slippery slope she can’t rowle herself down.” Then she frowned and stared off into the air, “Not a very clever pun, really. My last name doesn’t sound much like ‘roll’ at all.”

Albus felt the corners of his lips twitching, tiny laughs bubbling up his throat the more Delphi spoke. “I don’t think people here are very clever with names,” he found himself saying amusedly, and a grin returned to her face.

“Delphi!” someone shouted, and footsteps hurried down the corridor to their compartment. The green beanie marked the presence of Craig Bowker Jr, and he sighed in exasperation when Delphi turned and greeted him with a little wave of her fingers. “What are you doing? Have you even finished your rounds yet?”

“Just getting to know my fellow Slytherins,” she said, gesturing to Albus and Scorpius. Craig peeked around the door at them as Delphi continued, “For our new position, it’s important to build trust with the students.”

“Which would be more helpful if they actually know who you are,” Craig said. “Stop terrorising the underclassmen and put on your badge.”

“I wasn’t terrorising them!” Craig fixed her with an unamused stare. She giggled, “Okay, maybe just a tad.”

“Hello, you two,” Craig spoke to the boys, who mumbled their own greetings as Delphi began digging around in her pocket. “Sorry about her. I hope she wasn’t too much of a disruption.”

“You say that like I’m a nuisance,” Delphi said, faux hurt in her tone but a smile stretching wide across her lips. She was pinning something onto her robe, and now that Albus looked at Craig, something was glinting on his—

“Oh!” Scorpius suddenly exclaimed. “‘At your service’ — now I get it! You’re Slytherin’s newest prefect!”

“Well, one of them,” Delphi said, having successfully attached her prefect badge to her Slytherin robes, matching Craig’s. She clapped him hard on the back, who looked more tired than startled at the sudden harsh contact. “I’m the fun one, he’s the boring one.”

“No,” he protested. “I’m sensible, you’re reckless.”

“Same thing.” She suddenly brightened and spun around to face the boys in the compartment again, “Come visit us sometime! We hang out in the Astronomy Tower — it’s some proper fun.” She seemed to remember herself as she quickly added, “I mean, if you want.”

“Wizzo!” Scorpius cried on instinct, but immediately flushed with embarrassment and began messing with the collar of his shirt. “I mean — Thank you for the invitation.”

Delphi laughed good-naturedly. “I like that. ‘Wizzo!’ Quite fun to say.” She glanced for a moment at Albus, as though waiting for him to say something, but when he didn’t, she spun on her heel back towards Craig. “Okay. I’m ready to finish my rounds.”

“Which should’ve already been finished,” Craig grumbled before waving to the two second years. “Nice seeing you both. Hope you had a good summer.”

“If either of you ever need anything, you come find us,” Delphi stated firmly as Craig began wandering back down the corridor. “Slytherins need to stick together — especially these days, right?”

Albus felt something twist around his heart as he pursed his lips and looked towards the ground. Scorpius kept his gaze level with Delphi’s as he nodded. “Thank you,” he said earnestly, but she was quick to wave him away.

“No need. It’s my job.”

“Delphi!” Craig called from further down the corridor.

“Coming, Craig!” she called in a singsong voice. She slid her wand out and pretended to stab herself with it, rolling her eyes and lolling her tongue. Scorpius seemed startled, but Albus snickered, and Delphi shot them one last teasing grin before letting the compartment door close.

“Well…” Scorpius muttered after a moment of silence. “She was something!”

“Just a prefect doing her rounds,” Albus said. Scorpius seemed shocked by this blatant dismissal.

“She lagged behind just to talk to us. I don’t think that’s part of her job.”

“But she wouldn’t have even come here if she didn’t have to. Besides, maybe she only talked to us to make fun of us later. Or because she pitied us.”

“I’m not someone to be pitied.”

The uncharacteristic harshness in Scorpius’s voice caused Albus to jerk, finding his friend’s grey eyes hard as stone, staring directly at Albus with clear disapproval. It took him a moment to find his voice, and when he did, he had to force the words out through the sudden constriction of his throat.

“I-I didn’t mean to say you were. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant, Albus.” Scorpius sighed in vague frustration, shaking his head as he glanced towards the doorway where Delphi had stood. “But still, I think you’re being too harsh on her. She invited us to hang out with her. Isn’t that what friends do?”

“She’s not our friend after one conversation.” Albus laughed at the ridiculous notion, and he hardly noticed the beat of silence that lasted too long until he heard the faint rustling of Scorpius shifting in his seat.

“Were we not?” he meekly asked, his stony eyes crumbling, and Albus wished he knew how to shut the hell up.

“That’s different,” he said quickly, but even he knew it was a poor excuse. Scorpius sighed again.

“Well, we could be her friends. Have more conversations with her. At the Astronomy Tower. Where she invited us to go. To hang out with her. Like friends do. I mean — Didn’t your dad want you to make some new ones anyway? Well—” He gestured wildly to the door, “Here’s your chance! To get him off your back at least! What’s the worst that could happen if you at least try?”

Albus barked out a laugh and, before he knew what he was saying, exclaimed, “I don’t think making friends with the child of another Death Eater family would ‘get him off my back.’ It’d just make everything worse.”

Silence fell over the compartment again, and it roared in Albus’s ears so loud it resembled a resonating clap of thunder. Scorpius slid down the seat until he was curled up next to the window, leaning his head against the glass. Albus’s stomach hurt.

“Hey,” he started, sliding over so he was sat directly across from him again. “I don’t — Look, I don’t care what my dad says. I don’t need any other friends. I just need you.”

Though these words were meant to be of comfort, Scorpius grimaced. He shifted in place but still didn’t look at Albus, instead focusing on his hands and picking at his cuticles as he spoke. “I just don’t want to make your life more difficult…”

Albus’s stomach hurt.

“You could never,” he affirmed. “I think I’d have dropped out of Hogwarts if it weren’t for you being here.”

At that, Scorpius finally began to smile. “Drop out?” He chuckled and raised his eyes slightly to meet Albus’s. “In your second year? Sounds a bit extreme.”

Albus could now smile too. “Good thing you’re here to stop me from doing the extreme, then.” Scorpius shook his head, but there was no hiding the fond smile stretching across his lips. He lifted his head from the window and sat back up in his seat.

“Guess that means we have to stick together.”

Chapter Text

Albus had been (mostly) joking when he told Scorpius he wanted to drop out of school. But now that he’d spent over a month back at Hogwarts, he was really considering it.

Things hadn’t gotten better. He hadn’t gotten better. Hogwarts and all the bloody people in it hadn’t gotten better. He’d known everything would be exactly the goddamn same, but that didn’t lessen the burning mortification that rushed over him when he stepped off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade Station and was immediately met with Polly Chapman’s shrill screech of, “Oh dear, the Slytherin Squib’s returned!”

His cousin’s little friend group were shuffling towards the carriages, but they lingered long enough to point him out to the line of curious first years who were heading towards Hagrid’s shouts of “First years, this way!” Albus swore he saw some snickering as they were corralled towards the giant.

“Guess the Dark Lord in Training finally gave him some real magic,” Karl Jenkins gleefully added from over Polly’s shoulder, drawing attention to the blond standing by Albus’s side. Scorpius ducked his head when the passing first years whipped their heads back to see him, which was immediately followed by frantic whispering amongst themselves. Polly feigned a gasp as Yann Fredericks and Viola Parkington laughed, and the irritation curling throughout Albus’s chest began clawing at his insides. The feeling must have shown on his face because Karl smirked and pretended to ponder aloud, “How dark do you suppose the magic is? Maybe together, they’ll finally be able to bring back the Death Eat—”

“Fifteen points from Hufflepuff!”

With her prefect badge pinned onto her robes, Dominique Weasley surveyed the group with her arms crossed and clear disapproval furrowing her brows. Karl gaped at her, and the rest of his friends fell into a stunned silence as Dominique turned to Polly and said, “Make that fifteen from Gryffindor as well.”

“Dom!” Viola shrieked. “The school year hasn’t even officially started—”

“And it seems Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are competing to see how far into the negatives their Houses can go,” Dominique cooly interrupted. “I don’t tolerate bullying, Viola. And I’m certainly not above docking points from my own House. Should Ravenclaw join the competition with a five point deduction?”

“She didn’t even do anything.”

Albus had hardly noticed Rose, standing among her friends but half-covered by the dark. Yann had been tugging on her sleeve since Dominique’s appearance, and she finally squared her shoulders before stepping forward and facing her cousin. Dominique seemed momentarily surprised by this defence, but she quickly smoothed out her expression and stated, “Silence doesn’t equal innocence. Now off to the carriages, the lot of you.” She shooed them away, and the group obeyed with clear displeasure written across their faces. Polly glared at Albus and Scorpius until Yann yanked on her sleeve to get her to turn around. Still, the hushed grumblings did not go unheard as they disappeared into the dark.

“Thank you—” Scorpius was telling Dominique, who had approached the boys with a gentle smile once Rose and her friends were gone.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Albus interrupted, causing Scorpius to sputter in surprise and stare at his friend with wide-eyed confusion.

(And Albus thought Scorpius said he wasn’t someone to pity.)

“Of course I did,” Dominique said. Before Albus could insist that no, she really didn’t because last year she didn’t, she continued, “Not because you’re family, but because I’m a prefect. This is my job.” A tiny smile tugged on the edge of her lips, and she tilted her head towards the waiting carriages. “But as your family, I was wondering if you two wanted to ride with me and Louis. And a couple of friends — but they’re other prefects, so it’s fine.”

“Was Louis was made prefect too?” Scorpius asked, and Dominique laughed with a gleeful nod.

“And Victoire thought I was going to be the odd one in our family when I got sorted into Ravenclaw. Joke’s on her — she was destined to be the odd one!”

“But you two are still the only Ravenclaws in our whole family,” Albus said. “So really, she still fits in better than you.”

This time, Scorpius’s stare was squinty-eyed and furrow-browed, his sudden confusion turning into a steady perplexity as he glanced at Albus’s hands. He had bunched the sleeves of his robes into white-knuckled fists. Albus unclenched them and crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his armpits.

“It might not stay that way,” Dominique told him, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen after his comment (it was not an outburst). Her amusement had clearly been dashed, but she still smiled at her cousin. “Next year, your sister and Hugo will get sorted. Who knows — they might not be in Gryffindor.” She shrugged like her statement didn’t carry any weight (like it didn’t mean anything — like Houses in their family didn’t mean anything or affect them in any way) and, before Albus could get another word in, started off towards the carriages with a cheery, “Come along, children! I asked Louis to save us a carriage while I fetched you both.”

“Are you alright?” Scorpius whispered to Albus. He had slid closer to his side once Dominique’s back was turned. Worry was laced along his downturned brows because of course Albus’s words and actions always warranted worry.

“Yes,” Albus dismissed, already beginning to walk after his cousin. After a moment, he heard Scorpius’s footsteps pattering beside him. Still, he didn’t look over, refused to even turn his head a millimeter as he passed laughing students and excitable friend groups and felt whispers of “Slytherin Squib” and “Dark Lord in Training” brush against his skin.

(But it didn’t bounce off as though he were wearing armor, leaving him unscathed, and fall to the ground to be stepped on. It stuck and sunk into his very being, climbed up into his mind and settled there. As an echo. As a reminder. Like he needed one.)

The chatter grew louder as they reached a crowded clearing where returning students gathered to be transported to the castle. Clusters of students climbed aboard the roofless carriages, which soon began pulling them along the wooded path towards Hogwarts. The carriage’s very movement was the only sign of the Thestrals, invisible to most. Albus shook his head at the memory of James trying to scare him with the creatures a year ago. Why would he fear something he couldn’t even see? How childish of him.

Dominique had stopped and was peering around on her toes for any sign of her brother or their friends. “Can either of you spot Louis?” she asked the boys without looking back at them. “I don’t know which…” She trailed off as she noticed a paper bird fluttering in circles above a carriage near a lamppost. She sighed and muttered something in French that Albus didn’t understand. But the giggling that came from beside him said that Scorpius did, and he quickly took notice of Albus’s confusion.

“She called her brother an ‘oblivious lover boy,’” he translated. “Whatever that means.”

“You speak French?” Albus asked in surprise. Scorpius blinked before breaking into a proud smirk.

“Oui,” he said before tugging on Albus’s sleeve as Dominique resumed walking. “Mum taught me. Dad knows French too, but he hardly ever speaks it.”

(That felt like something Albus should’ve known by now.)

The paper bird was hovering above two Ravenclaws sitting together in an otherwise empty carriage. Louis Weasley had a shiny prefect badge pinned to his robes just like his sister and the boy next to him, whose light brown eyes were sparkling with awe behind his glasses as Louis flipped through the sketchbook he held between them. As the three approached, the boy grinned at something Louis was saying and knocked their knees together, causing Louis to lower his head in embarrassed laughter.

“I found the kids!” Dominique announced, Scorpius giving a cheery wave when the two looked up. Albus wondered if he was imagining the sudden brightness of Louis’s expression when he saw the two second years. “You can let the poor bird rest now,” Dominique said, chuckling as she glanced up at the still-airborne paper bird.

“It did its job well,” Louis’s friend declared, nodding in approval after Louis waved his wand and brought the paper bird into his hand. His friend reached out his pointer finger and gently stroked its beak. “Good job, Pájaro.”

Louis fixed him with a blank stare — or it would’ve been if the corners of his lips weren’t twitching in amusement. “Did you really just name it ‘Bird?’”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” With an exaggerated sigh, Louis placed the origami bird onto the boy’s shoulder and turned back to the second years.

“This is Bernardo,” he told them, chuckling when his friend chimed in, “Bernie is fine!” Scorpius grinned and waved again.

“I’m Albus! I mean—!” He immediately flushed and waved his hands wildly at his friend next to him, “That’s Albus, I’m Scorpius, and—!”

His rambling was cut-off by Bernie’s amused laughter. “Dom was right,” he said. “You are cute.”

“Uh—!” Scorpius nearly choked, and the three Ravenclaws only laughed harder. Albus began messing with his sleeves again as Scorpius flushed pink and looked towards the ground, flustered but visibly pleased with the compliment.

“Pleasure to meet you both,” Bernie said when the laughter died down and he shot them both a smile. Albus averted his eyes when the smile turned to him.

Dominique had stood up on her toes again and was looking around. “Where’s Taylor?” she called to Louis, and Albus couldn’t help but think that perhaps Dominique’s supposed “friend” had bolted the moment she heard about the Slytherin Squib’s imminent presence.

“Had a Hufflepuff problem,” Louis said, pointing towards a carriage a couple paces away. A tall girl with black afro stood between a Hufflepuff with his wand drawn and the Slytherin he had cast the Leg-Lock Curse on. There were plenty of onlookers (and laughers) surrounding them, even as other prefects tried to disperse them.

“That’s Ivan Flint,” Scorpius whispered, staring horrified at the boy frantically waving his arms to stay upright. Something flipped in Albus’s stomach, and he squeezed his eyes shut to avoid the sight. Dominique, who was stood close enough to Scorpius to hear the poor boy’s name, pursed her lips.

“Guess Hufflepuff will be going further into the negatives,” she huffed as she climbed into the carriage. She took a seat opposite her brother and smoothed out her skirt. Bernie cocked his head towards her.

“What do you mean ‘further?’” he asked, lips immediately turning into an amused smile. “Did you seriously take points away already?”

“Talk shit, get hit. With a point deduction.” Louis choked in surprised laughter as Bernie nodded in approval. “Get in here, you two,” Dominique chided, beckoning Scorpius and Albus aboard. With a pleasant smile, Scorpius followed her onto the carriage before turning around and offering Albus his hand. Blinking in surprise, Albus took it and allowed Scorpius to tug him aboard. He was still smiling, but something in it had softened when he turned back to Albus. Their hands lowered when Albus found his footing, yet when he glanced down he found their fingers to still be intertwined. Scorpius’s fingertips were brushing delicately against his, a steady, soft, warm pressure that somehow felt more stabilising than the platform beneath his feet.

Then he heard Bernie’s amused giggling, and he jerked his hand back to his side and wiped it against his trousers as though he had touched something vile. When he risked a glance to see Scorpius’s reaction, he found his friend had clasped his hands politely together in front of him, still smiling as he settled into a seat. That smile didn’t waver when he turned to Albus and pulled his robes back from spilling onto the space next to him, a silent invitation. Staunchly avoiding turning in Bernie’s direction, Albus shuffled over and took a seat between Scorpius and Dominique.

(If the space between him and his cousin was greater than the space between him and his friend, that was no one’s business to comment on or laugh about.)

“Guess we’ll be meeting up with Taylor at the castle,” Dominique said, watching her friend herd a gang of Hufflepuffs onto a carriage before climbing in herself. Albus peeked over her shoulder at the scene and watched a blonde ponytail swing as a Slytherin prefect rushed over to Ivan Flint, who had ended up on the ground in all the commotion. Delphi Rowle kneeled beside him as she casted the counter-curse. She spoke gently to him as she helped him to his feet and dusted off his robes. Her kind face morphed into a glare as she whipped towards the lingering crowd, who quickly scattered at her expression. In a blink, she was smiling at Ivan as she led him to a carriage, an arm hanging loosely around his shoulders as though they were old friends.

Why didn’t anyone cast the counter-curse sooner? Why did everyone let Ivan fall? Why did Delphi, another Slytherin, have to be the one to check on him?

“He’ll be alright, Albus,” Louis said with a gentle nudge to his foot. He tilted his head with a lopsided, reassuring smile when Albus glanced at him, though he quickly averted his eyes to his lap and began fiddling with his sleeves again. He could feel Scorpius’s concerned (always warranting concern) gaze lingering on the side of his face, but he focused on the feeling of the fabric between his fingertips. He wondered if his friend was about to ask if he was alright (he was fine, why couldn’t anyone just let him be?), but suddenly Dominique let out a surprised squeal and jumped back as someone spoke next to her ear.

“Room for one more?”

Fred Weasley (the II) was grinning as he held onto the side of the carriage. Dominique squinted in faux disapproval at his scare, but she quickly waved her arm as a gesture for him to climb in. Fred’s grin grew wider as he hoisted himself over the side of the carriage and tumbled aboard, dark-red locs flopping around in his face at the dramatic action.

“You know there are steps, right?” Louis drawled, watching his cousin stumble to his feet.

“Too boring,” Fred said, nodding at Albus and Scorpius in greeting as he took a seat beside Bernie. Their carriage lurched as the unseen Thestrals began pulling them towards the castle.

“Where’s Roxanne?” Dominique asked him.

“With the rest of the Quidditch team,” Fred sighed as he leaned back. “They need a new Chaser so they’re debriefing about try-outs.” He suddenly snorted and jutted his chin at Albus, “I’ve never seen your brother look so serious.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Albus responded without much thought, yet laughter erupted throughout the carriage before he could feel embarrassed.

“You didn’t tell me your cousin was so funny,” Bernie told Louis, nudging his shoulder.

“I’m still learning myself,” Louis responded, repeating Bernie’s action. Bernie smirked and nudged Louis’s shoulder again, laughing when Louis huffed in annoyance (or it would’ve been if he wasn’t fighting back a smile) and nudged him back once more.

“Barf,” Fred muttered not-at-all quietly, and Dominique hid a giggle behind her hand. Albus raised a questioning eyebrow towards her, but she just shook her head in dismissal. For their part, Louis and Bernie seemed completely unbothered, locked in a stalemate with their shoulders pressed firmly together as they chuckled between themselves.

“Are you not interested in Quidditch like your sister?” Scorpius politely asked Fred, posture straight with a slight tilt of his head. Fred’s mouth twisted as he shook his head.

“Nah. I’ll gladly let Roxi deal with the sports thing.” He waved his hand as though swatting the very idea away, “I’m much more of a businessman myself, so I’m good with helping out at the joke shop.” The all-too-familiar teasing expression returned to his face, and he lowered his head towards Albus with a laugh. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I’m not a hater like Al here.”

“It’s Albus,” Albus said before anyone else could join in the laughter. A quick, sharp correction. Too sharp maybe, when he noticed Fred’s grin quiver as he settled back in his seat. Albus pressed his lips together and looked down at his lap. He noticed Scorpius fidgeting beside him, ducking his head slightly to try and catch Albus’s eye, but Albus kept his gaze firmly on his hands bunching the fabric of his robes. His stomach began to hurt.

“Well we all know who’s definitely trying out,” Louis said, breaking the sudden blanket of silence that had covered the carriage after Albus’s correction (it was not an outburst). The atmosphere brightened, amused smiles spreading across the others’ faces and breathy chuckles spilling through the air. Louis’s eyes shone as he looked around and smiled at the visible shift.

Albus’s stomach hurt.

“Oh dear,” Dominique was saying beside him, shaking her head fondly. “Rose is going to lose her mind.”

“I hope she doesn’t get in just because she’s related to two of the players,” Bernie teased Fred. Fred scoffed.

“With Wood as the captain? Nepotism has no place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

(Albus certainly hoped he was right.)

“I’m sure she doesn’t need it!” Scorpius exclaimed with an excited smile and enthusiastic nod. “She’s a natural flyer — I’m sure she’ll make it on the team with skill alone!”

In his lap, Albus’s knuckles began to turn white. This wasn’t bitterness. Scorpius just didn’t understand that the last thing Rose needed — what they needed — what he needed — was another ego boost.

Nothing had changed.

He was still met with mocking laughter and taunting jeers in every corridor, stairwell, and classroom of that goddamn castle he was stuck in. The new first years had quickly learned to steer clear of the Slytherin Squib, Fangless Snake, Stain on his family name, not a true Potter. Some were even so bold as to take part in the laughter and jeers, giggling madly among their friends whenever they did so. How was it that they’d been at Hogwarts for less time than Albus yet they already fit in at the castle — more like in the entire Wizarding World — better than he ever could — ever would.

They seemed to take a more sadistic pleasure in shouting at Scorpius, making great shows of screaming in terror as the Dark Lord in Training swept through the corridors. Yet he never flinched, never glanced their way with a sharp glint in his eyes. In fact, he avoided their eyes altogether, keeping his gaze firmly forward as he walked to class. Class where no matter the subject, he absolutely excelled, often shooting his hand up or completing the classwork at the same time as — or sometimes even before — Rose. He didn’t wither under the glare she would shoot him when he beat her, merely smiled to himself at another success. In spite of it all, he still smiled. He was doing well. As his friend, Albus should feel happy for him. He had to be. Albus had no right to feel bitter about this. About Scorpius. About Scorpius and his numerous successes and his steadfast focus and his easy, always present, unwavering smiles.

(Albus’s stomach hurt.)

Their conversations during meals in the Great Hall felt oddly stagnant. Could they even be called “conversations?” Scorpius chattered and Albus nodded along. Most of the time, he couldn’t even register Scorpius’s words. He was too aware of all the people surrounding him. All the eyes that could be directed towards him, mouths that could pause eating and conversation and spit Slytherin Squib with a sinister amusement that dragged sharply against his skin.

Scorpius placed a drumstick on Albus’s plate.

“At least eat this one. It’s the smallest I could find.”

Albus looked over to see Scorpius leaned over and watching his face intently, his own food disregarded. He was still smiling (how was he still smiling?), but it had shrunk from the cheerful expression he wore when the two first sat down for dinner. The corners of his lips curled up almost hesitantly, as though he were afraid of crossing some unknown line, and his brows turned down in the way his lips wouldn’t and he was still staring at Albus with wide, sparkling eyes—

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Scorpius sat up, startled. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.” Albus stared at the piece of chicken on his plate. His stomach rumbled softly. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“I never said there was.”

“Then stop looking at me like there is.”

Scorpius fell silent, and soon Albus could hear the light scraping of cutlery beside him once more. But Scorpius didn’t resume their earlier conversation (what had he been talking about again?) and Albus didn’t move (the tension along his shoulders was beginning to ache). Despite the noise all around them, the silence between them was deafening.

“You should eat your chicken,” Scorpius finally said, and Albus felt a flare of irritation swell in his chest. He hadn’t felt that since he was last on Platform 9 and 3/4 with his dad. He hadn’t missed it.

“You’re not my mum,” he snapped back.

The clinking of Scorpius’s cutlery faltered. But only for a breath. His grip must’ve slipped.

“No. I’m not.” Another breath of suffocating silence. “I’m just worried.”

Of course he was, because that’s the only emotion Albus was worthy of. “Well, stop.”

All around them, conversation fizzled out as from the front of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall was tapping her spoon against her goblet. Once all was silent and attention fixed on her, she stood from her seat at the staff table and smiled proudly.

“I’m pleased to announce,” she began, “the newest addition to the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”

Oh bloody hell.

Excited whispers began to swirl around the Gryffindor table, students across the other House tables sitting straight up in anticipation. Scorpius sitting straight up in anticipation, an expectant smile on his lips as his gaze easily found Rose on the other side of the Great Hall. He was so sure she had made the team, couldn’t fathom for a moment that the position had gone to someone else. And why would he? Everyone knew that Rose Granger-Weasley was simply brilliant.

Bloody. Hell. It was her, wasn’t it?

“Our newest—” McGonagall stopped herself for a moment, realising what she had said, and Albus barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Houses really did matter, then, becoming embedded as a part of their very being the moment the Sorting Hat announced its decision. A part of themselves decided by a bloody hat for years and years and years.

(Albus would be the Slytherin Squib for the rest of his life. His family on the other hand would be remembered as—)

“Your superb new Chaser, Rose Granger-Weasley!”

As soon as McGonagall said Rose’s name, a resounding cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table with plenty of applause floating from the other House tables. Rose (of course) relished in the attention, standing from her seat with a radiant smile stretching across her face. Polly and Yann, sat on either side of her, made a great show of presenting their friend like she was modelling the latest fashions from Madam Malkin’s. Polly waved her hands around in exaggerated grandeur as Yann cupped his hands around his mouth and whooped. Karl Jenkins leapt from the Hufflepuff table and bounded over as Viola Parkington skipped her way from the Ravenclaw table to join in the display.

Unsurprisingly, the first person to wrap Rose in a tight, celebratory hug was Roxanne Weasley, who nearly lifted her cousin off the ground with the strength of her embrace. James was close behind her, and Albus watched as he slung an arm around Rose’s shoulders and tugged her into a side-hug, grinning down at her. He released her quickly as Fred came up to give her a congratulatory nudge to the arm. Even Molly Weasley (the II) smiled and gave her sincere congratulations.

People were standing. At the Ravenclaw table, Dominique, Bernie, and Louis were clapping. Louis even shot Rose two thumbs-up as Dominique leaned over and whispered something to Bernie, both chuckling good-naturedly. All the staff had stood at their table as well, and Albus watched Neville Longbottom’s fervent applause as he positively beamed towards Rose. His eyes shone with pride, shoulders shaking with barely contained glee, as though she were his godchild that had achieved something utterly spectacular. At least she’d be one that he could actually be proud of. What had Albus done since he arrived at Hogwarts besides cause trouble?

(Stain his family name. Prove himself incapable, not a true Potter, not a true wizard. He felt like he was gonna be sick. He was sick and nothing could be done to cure him.)

Scorpius was clapping. Rapid, sincere, excited, awestruck. The sound reverberated loudly in his ears as he watched his friend watch Rose, and something bitter burned in his chest as Scorpius began to move. To stand. To walk over. To offer his own congratulations to someone who was already drowning in them.

He caught Scorpius harshly by the arm and yanked him to a pause. “Why are you clapping for her?” he hissed. “We hate Quidditch, and she’s playing for a different House!”

Scorpius finally stopped clapping, but the corners of his lips still curved in a hesitant smile. He exhaled a confused chuckle (on the precipice of a wheeze, like he had to force it out), glancing back towards Rose and her crowd of admirers before finally looking away.

“She’s your cousin, Albus,” he said, as though that explained everything. Of course. Because Rose was family and families supported each other so why wouldn’t Albus clap for her? He should. He had to because that was just how families worked and all his other family members clearly had no problem acting accordingly so why couldn’t Albus ever just act normal?

“What, you think she would clap for me?” he asked Scorpius, and relished in the way he could only press his lips together in response. Exactly. She wouldn’t, so why was Albus expected to play nice and—?

“I think she’s brilliant,” Scorpius declared, turning back to his dinner and there was that damn smile again.

“Right,” Albus scoffed. How could he have forgotten? Rose Granger-Weasley was the prime example of brilliance and success and — hell, she was a truer Potter than Albus could ever hope to be! Harry Potter knew it, Neville Longbottom knew it, it was about time Scorpius Malfoy finally realised it.

His chest was burning. His eyes were burning. He was burning under Rose’s praise and out of the corner of his eye, he watched Scorpius lean closer to him with clear concern etched across his brows. Worry. Always worry.

“You know she hates you, right? She would never clap for a Death Eater child, and most certainly not you.”

He couldn’t even hear the applause anymore. Were they still clapping? It didn’t matter. Ringing filled his ears and lit every nerve on fire.

It was gone. The smile on Scorpius’s face had finally fallen, no trace on his lips or in his eyes, and for a terrible moment, Albus felt a sick pleasure at the sight. He was sick.

(He was burning and his stomach hurt.)

The clang of cutlery was the only sound to cut through the ringing. Scorpius pushed back from the table and walked out of the Great Hall. He didn’t look back once. Though if he did, Albus didn’t think he’d be able to stand it. He fixed his eyes on his plate, empty except for the drumstick Scorpius had given him.

He covered it with a napkin, wrapped his arms around his stomach, and wished he could just disappear.