Albus Severus Potter

So, just because he’s dense means that I should let it go? I can’t just let it go, Al. 

I thought that you said you’d help me with this?

No... I guess not. I dunno.

Oh. Okay. It’s just that… you guys disappeared, and I thought that maybe you’d gotten a chance to speak to him.

That was... before I talked to you I think... I dunno. I don't remember much of that evening.

…I need your help. Do you have a minute?

Yeah of course. What's wrong?

The fact that Albus recovered enough to tease, though, Scorpius took as a good sign; a sign that he understood that such actions were considered deplorable by the current members of the Malfoy family, and wasn’t going to be holding them to account for Abraxas’s crimes. Scorpius raised an eyebrow and said drily, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. The gardens are fertilized with only the finest dragon dung, just like all proper establishments. Decomposing wizards make for truly wretched plant-food.” Scorpius smiled primly, and decided that now wasn’t the time to mention the stories about dead Squib children buried in the back yard. There wasn’t a single one of the old families in England that didn’t have stories like that, of course, including the Potters and Weasleys—but Scorpius didn’t think that Albus was aware of such salacious gossip, and figured it was best not to bring it up. His friend might not get the joke.

He shrugged at Albus’s muttered comment about names, and everything they carried, but did not comment; Scorpius knew as well as Albus how weighty a family’s name could be, but he was proud to be a Malfoy—even with the ugly parts of their history, and the scorn of the world today, he wouldn’t have given it up to be anyone else. Most of the time.

Scorpius snickered, but graciously let the subject of Albus’s father’s fans drop; he decided to keep it in reserve, rather than using up the entirely of Albus’s ration of distress at once. It seemed like a valuable subject to hold on to, given the faces that Albus was making, and the passionate desperation of his protests. Besides, Scorpius found the whole thing frankly hilarious. He made a mental note to remember to share the idea with Rose; he had the feeling that she’d get a kick out of it, too—especially if Albus continued to react with such distress.

He allowed Albus to pull him out of the room, then up the stairs—Albus being a frequent enough guest that he knew his way around the manor almost as well as the Malfoys themselves. A frown of confusion etched itself in Scorpius’s pale brow as he realized where their path was leading them, but it wasn’t until Albus turned to grin at him and explain his plan that Scorpius understood what his friend had in mind.

Scorpius’s jaw dropped, and he let himself be pulled inside the library. “Are we really?" he couldn’t help but ask, absolutely floored. A bewildered laugh slipped past his lips. "You’re barking," he told Albus, a disbelieving grin slowly curling across his pointed features. Surely his friend didn’t really intend for them to snog…but then again, Albus did seem to suffer from the inexplicable belief that none of the blokes at the party were interested in other fellows (which Scorpius was quite equally certain was definitely not true), so perhaps he was simply intrigued enough by the prospect that he’d take what he could get when it came to finding a partner to help him realize the notion…not something Scorpius intended to object to, because it really did sound like a lot of fun.

As he tugged Scorpius into the library, he paused to look back at him, rolling his eyes. "Blood hell Scorp, why do you have to be so difficult?" he chuckled, popping the bottle open and taking a swig before handing it off to his friend. "Yes, we are," he said, walking amongst the many bookshelves. "And it'll be brilliantly fun. Besides, you always say how good at snogging you are, so now you can prove it," Al licked his lips before darting behind a bookshelf with a laugh. 

It wasn't particularly unusual for Al to run off in the middle of a party for a quick snog. True, he didn't do it as often as Rose did, but that was simply because she had far more options than he did. It hadn't happened in the Malfoy Manor before, but at many of the parties back at Hogwarts, Al had managed to sneak off many a time. It made his nights far more interesting, particularly if he had been drunk. 

"I think it has a great deal to do with the name, yes," Scorpius said soberly, meaning his own family as much as he did Albus’s. Nobody wanted to be a Malfoy, these days, and Scorpius didn’t think it very likely that he was going to find someone who felt otherwise, no matter how optimistic his mother was or how determined his grandmother. Still, he tried not to fret about that; Scorpius was of the opinion that his family could do anything, so he was certain that when the time came, one of them—probably grandmother—would produce a suitable and willing spouse from somewhere, even if she had to have one specially commissioned.

His sober attitude couldn’t hold-up in the face of Albus’s horrified suggestion, though, and Scorpius snickered. “Oh,” he said, “I can imagine it all right…in fact, I’m imagining it right now…” Something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle slipped from Scorpius’s lips, and he said, “Oh, no bet—he absolutely would, wouldn’t he! Oh, Merlin, how horrifying would that be!” Scorpius bit his knuckles to choke back another laugh. “He’d probably want you to draw on the scar!”

"Names suck," Al said offhandedly, in reference to both. While it was true, Al had it significantly better, he did find the continual references to his father and the rest of his massive family to be tedious. Of course, no one particularly enjoyed seeing a Malfoy either, even if they weren't nearly as associated with the dark arts as they once were before the war. 

Al let out a sort of strangled groan at the thought. "Stop it! I shouldn't have brought it up," he mumbled. It was just a horrible thought, and something he really didn't even want to think about. He actually shuddered while they continued to dance and then pouted up at Scorpius. "Stop, I don't want to think about that,"

He raised an eyebrow at Albus. “‘Not exactly normal’?” he repeated. “No, I would hardly describe your family as ‘normal,’ not by any means,” he snickered. “I’m not quite sure it’s the same sort of situation as mine, though,” he continued drily. “After all, think of all the people who’ve never actually met a single one of your sprawling clan of ginger relations who still want desperately to be part of it. At the last,” he suggested with a teasing smirk, “you could always wed yourself some silly head-over-heels hero-worshipping fanboy…” Scorpius laughed at his friend, highly amused by the idea.

Scorpius chose to ignore Albus’s silly observation about him being flustered. He was no such thing. Much. He ducked his head, avoiding the sight of Albus’s tongue gliding over his lips. “Right,” he said, with a smile that was hardly bitter at all, “that’s why you’ve swept me off for an illicit shag in the library or wherever, because you’d rather be here.” He snorted, far more amused than he was insulted; Albus was sweet, terribly sweet, but Scorpius knew where he stood with the Potter-Weasleys. Louis had certainly made that clear when he’d practically sprinted out of the room to get away from Scorpius post-coitus, hadn’t he? Scorpius was under no delusions; he knew he was lucky just to have Albus and Rose as friends, and no matter how silly and optimistic and romantic his mother’s ideas, he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to think he would ever be worthy of anything else. He didn’t really mind; it wasn’t like he’d ever really entertained romantic notions of his own toward either of his best friends, after all.

They were both highly attractive people, of course, and Scorpius would by no means object to a snog or a shag with anyone as pretty as the two of them—but he knew the limitations that his last name imposed on him, and while he had been able to get away with seducing Louis Weasley (mostly by accident, to be honest) that was one thing, because Louis didn’t really matter to Scorpius, and being avoided afterward by the half-breed Gryffindor didn’t hurt. Besides, he barely knew Louis, so Scorpius thought it had been well within the realm of plausibility to assume that the other boy would have been able to see their liaison as a purely physical thing that didn’t involve their family history at all. (Apparently a foolish assumption, but Scorpius refused to blame himself for making it.) He knew there was no possibility of such a thing in any interaction with either Albus or Rose, however; they knew each other too well. Besides, seeing an expression of regret or disgust in the eyes of his friends—that, Scorpius could not have borne.

That was why he had been so quick to dash his mother’s hopeless hopes, and to insist that she not ever bring them up to Albus—nor Rose, for that matter, because Rose had been on Astoria’s list as well, and just as pointlessly as Albus.

"I think it has more to do with the name," Al began, in regards to his families popularity. He, more than anyone, knew how odd his family was. They were massive, far bigger than most, and all had that flaming ginger hair except for himself and James. That and his families views tended to be a bit... eccentric, even in these current times. His grandfather's obsession with rubber ducks being the least of those. "Bloody hell, could you imagine that? No, no Harry Potter fanboys... augh... could you imagine? 10 galleons he would make me pretend to be my father in bed," he shuddered at the thought, missing a step and laughing as he did so.

Al rolled his eyes at Scorpius's next words. He was actually getting a bit tired of Scorpius's lack of self-worth, particularly in regards to himself and Rose. Rose wanted to shag him after all didn't she? She had told Al just as much the other day. He even had a sneaking suspicion that she might have wanted a bit more than that. Al paused for a moment thinking, though he kept up the dancing. 

"Unfortunately, that doesn’t help me tremendously."

"Yes," Scorpius said dismissively, "I suppose I will—if I ever fall in love, that is," he added with a small shrug. "At least, with someone suitable…who’s interested in getting embroiled in this family.” He gave Al a strained smile, then laughed. “Oh, my parents—well, they’re actually quite a story, but not one really suitable for a dance-floor conversation. Take too long to tell,” he explained cheerfully.

She shrugged, dislodging Albus’s hand. She really didn’t want any empty platitudes at the moment.

"Remains to be seen, I’m afraid. I’m just going to have to pick it up and figure out what I’m going to do next."