HPCC Nineteen Years Later

Being disowned. 

Never making any friends.

Figuring out if Slytherin green matched his eyes. 

The newspaper headlines his mum wouldn’t bother to stop because she hated him. 

Living in a dungeon. 

Possible torture and death. 

He didn’t know what Slytherin was really like. He didn’t mean to ask the hat to let him be different. He didn’t mean to ask for Slytherin. It had just happened absolutely without warning upon seeing the kind grey eyes of the only person he had really wanted to talk to on that train smiling up at him. He thought that maybe they could partner-up in class. Strike up an unlikely inter-house friendship. Potters couldn’t actually be Sorted into Slytherin. 

Albus saw James rise from his seat and mouth a “you okay?” towards him. He wanted to cry. He was not okay. So he simply didn’t respond because he didn’t know what to do. 

He wanted his mum. But she wouldn’t want him anymore. 

He felt a sharp elbow poke him in the ribs as Scorpius’s forced his face into Albus’s line of sight. He smiled at him. He had an infectious grin, like he’d practiced it in the mirror and knew that it made him difficult to say no to.

“We need to go now Albus.” Scorpius chirped. 

Albus didn’t move. 

“Albus? Are you okay?” Scorpius paused and leaned closer to his face, whispering to him. “I’m not okay either. But we need to go.”

Albus and Scorpius were used to being stared at and they both hated it. However, unlike Albus, the stress of the Sorting had made Scorpius hyper-aware of his surroundings. They were being stared at much more than usual and Scorpius felt every set of eyes on him like daggers. 

“Potter, Malfoy. You need to come now,” the Slytherin prefect girl shouted. She paused. “That is not a sentence I expected to have to say today... Please follow me.”

Albus forced his legs to straighten. He desperately looked around the room for one of his cousins but they had all left for Gryffindor. He was used to being surrounded by family and now he was really alone. Part of him was terrified but part of him felt like a weight was lifted. He was free to be his own person.

The two new Slytherins caught up to the other first years at the end of the entrance hall. Two prefects had been nominated to take them to their dorms. The tall blond girl looked like she never missed a deadline and the boy, who Scorpius noted had the build of a beater, looked like he wasn’t to be messed with. They were both smiling down at the younger children. 

Albus knew he needed to pay attention to this part, but he was using all his concentration keeping upright. He vaguely noted that he had always been good at finding his way around so he probably wouldn’t get lost, but he did want to know a little about his new house. He turned to look at Scorpius, who looked eager and attentive. That was the first time Albus noticed that none of the other students were standing too close to them. 

“Welcome to Slytherin! Congratulations on being sorted into the best house in Hogwarts, we have the best time here,” the girl began. “My name is Neave. I’m one half of the sixth year prefect team. This is Ryan, also in sixth year. If you have any questions feel free to grab us in the common room or around the castle. Contrary to myth, we’re a friendly bunch." 

"Except the Bloody Baron!” Ryan interrupted. 

Neave rolled her eyes and began to walk down a corridor leading away from the grand staircase. “Follow me to your new home." 

"Come on, Albus!” Scorpius whispered, tugging on his robes to make sure he followed. Albus wasn’t sure why Scorpius was being so kind to him. He was meant to be a Slytherin and would be better off talking to the other students in their year, but he stuck close by Albus’s side as they walked down the first corridor. 

Albus automatically took a mental note of the direction they were walking in. 

Through the stone door with the green panelling. 

Left after 20 steps.

First left again.

Down some long stone steps. 

Albus expected it to get darker and darker, but he found that the torches that lined the passages were warm and comforting, and the feeling of dread was yet to consume him completely. He started to listen to the words of the perfects ahead. 

“Breakfast is always at 7:30. You have about an hour to eat and we’re close enough to the Great Hall that you can pop back and get your books. Not like the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, they have to show up at breakfast ready to go." 

Backtrack at the bottom of the stairs through the small wooden door to the right of them. 

Straight down to the end of the corridor. 

"Hogwarts is a lot bigger than it was in your parents days. We’ve got a few teachers per subject to squeeze us in. It’s nice to get the perspective of several experts on your work.”

Down the spiral stairs with the warm, green light. 

Sudden left.

15 steps then turn right. 

The large black door was set back into an alcove. 

“‘Ambition’ is the password to the common room. Passwords are changed every few weeks and will be posted on the notice boar,.” Neave announced, stepping closer to the door and saying the password clearly. 

Albus’s hearing had returned enough to hear a faint click, then Ryan pushed the door open. 

The entrance to the common room was much larger than Albus thought it would be. The ceiling was at least 4 times his height, and tiled with green and silver. There were alcoves along the corridor, all filled with older students catching up after the summer holidays. Albus wondered if that would be him next year… but then the sinking feeling returned, so he stopped trying to think about the future.

They took a few more steps into the main common room. It was a large room, but not too large; about the size of Grandma and Grandpa Weasley’s front yard. The large fireplace at one end of the room was blazing, filling the room with light and warmth, and the large serpent above it seemed to be moving in the candle light. Albus wasn’t sure he could get used to having a massive snake in his living room, but he supposed he had a lot of adjustment to do. 

“The giant squid has come to visit. Don’t worry – it can’t get through the glass.”

Albus’s head whipped around with more energy than he had shown since he’d been Sorted. Massive tentacles were clinging to the glass opposite the fireplace. He was never going near that wall. It all made him feel quite sick. 

Albus felt another tug on his robe from Scorpius, who finally looked as worried as Albus thought he should. Albus found the strength to drag himself down another two sets of stone steps. 

“First year boys with surnames M-Z through here, please. Your bathroom is attached to the room and your bags will already have been brought up for you. Try to get some sleep, classes start at 8:45 tomorrow morning. Alarms will go off at 7:15 automatically, but feel free to set them however you’d like." 

Albus saw his trunk immediately as he entered the room. It was much less grand than the common room but just as warm. The far wall of the square room had windows looking out to the lake, and there were eight beds lining the edge, three to the left, three to the right, and two along the back. There was a small wooden door on the right which Albus assumed led to the bathroom. His trunk was at the foot of the bed immediately to his left, next to Scorpius’s. Albus wondered if Hogwarts had known that they would get along. 

Albus threw himself onto his bed and closed the curtains around him. He needed space to breathe, and the noise the other overexcited boys were making was causing him anxiety. He tried to lie there in silence to clear his mind as his room mates unpacked, but he heard his name being mentioned far too often, so he recounted the directions to the common room from the great hall. 

Green panelled door.

20 steps.

First left.

Stone steps.

Door to the right.

End of the corridor.

Spiral stairs.

Left.

15 steps. 

He repeated this in his head until the he heard the door close behind the other boys, who clearly wanted to explore Slytherin more. Without leaving his bed, he leant down and opened his trunk, pulling on his pyjamas, which he had thankfully packed at the top in case something terrible like this happened. He wanted to shower but he didn’t dare get up. He went to pack his robe back in his trunk and saw a small piece of parchment folded near the top, 'Al’ written on the corner. He recognised his mother’s handwriting immediately and felt a comforting glow wash over him. 

He lent back against his headboard with the note. The weight of the situation dawned on him again. Would this be the last time he saw his mothers writing? Would his family ever write to him again? He carefully unfolded the parchment. 

Hi Al,

Your father and I are so proud of you for making it to Hogwarts. We hope you’re settling into your dorm and making lots of new friends. 

Remember to ask James for help if you need it and write to us on your first day of classes. We’ll send Barney so you don’t need to find the Owlery.

We love you so much, Al. 

Mum x

The comforting feeling disappeared. What would he say to his parents tomorrow? James had probably already sent an owl explaining what had happened in the Great Hall. His parents were probably talking about him right now. Everyone was probably talking about him now. The buzzing in his ears returned. He vaguely heard the movement of his dorm mates getting into bed. He needed to calm down. 

Green panelled door.

20 steps.

First left.

He was crying silently. 

Stone steps.

Door to the right.

End of the corridor.

He wanted nothing else than be able to walk up some stairs and ask his brother to comfort him. Or Vic. Or Roxanne. 

Spiral stairs.

Left.

15 steps. 

There was nobody here for him. 

Green panelled door.

Potters don’t belong in Slytherin. 

20 steps

He threw himself over, sadness and panic being replaced with anger and self-loathing. 

First left.

This was his fault. 

Stone steps.

Door to the right.

"Albus?” 

Albus heard a very quiet voice from just outside his curtains. He froze. 

“Albus?” The voice said again, then it stuttered, “I-I can’t sleep either.” 

Albus slowly leaned up and grasped the edge of his bed hangings. 

Please be Scorpius. 

The blond boy leaning next to his bed looked as dishevelled as Albus felt. Perhaps he had been crying too. 

“Albus!” Scorpius’s lips twitched into a slight smile. “Can we go to the common room? I have sweets.”

Albus nodded. There was no need to stay crying in bed all night. If he was only going to have one friend, Scorpius seemed as though he would be a good one. He swung his legs around and stood up, padding around to his trunk and pulling out an old Harpies hoodie. It smelled like home. They exited the room in silence, walking up the stairs that led to the deserted common room. The fire was beginning to burn out but it was still warm. Playing cards lay abandoned on the tables, piles of parchment with scribbles showing signs of life that had left the room not long ago. Some of the lamps were off. 

“Do you think it’s eerie down here?” Scorpius asked, stopping beside Albus.

“No,” Albus replied, surprising himself with his answer. 

“Where should we sit?” Scorpius whispered as a question to himself as much as Albus. 

Albus knew the answer to this immediately and led Scorpius to the first alcove on the left leading out of the common room. The walls were lined with cushions and blankets were strewn on the floor. The boys got comfortable awkwardly, bony knees bumping against each other, not sure if it was ok to be touching. 

Without speaking, Scorpius offered Albus a sweet. Albus realised how hungry he was, having been unable to stomach dinner earlier. He grabbed a handful of sugar mice eagerly. 

“Thank you,” He mumbled. 

Scorpius giggled. “I noticed you didn’t eat anything.” There was an almost comfortable silence as they ate, the sloshing of the lake against the windows could be heard. “You know I always assumed I would be sorted into Slytherin. My family will be happy. But I’m disappointed that I’m not different enough.”

“It’s not all its cracked up to be, trust me.” Albus grumbled back. 

Scorpius shrugged. “I’m glad you’re here. You might be the first person I’ve met who understands what it is to live in the shadow of your father and desperately want to escape." 

Albus looked up at him, searching for mocking or sarcasm, which he was used to from his cousins when they said something as emotionally vulnerable as that. He saw nothing but sincerity. 

Albus must’ve been frowning at him because Scorpius went bright red and mumbled an apology. "I’m sorry for misunderstanding.”

“No!” Albus began quickly. “You’re right.” He paused. “I’m just not good at talking about things like that." 

"That’s okay.” Scorpius handed Albus a handful of jelly slugs. “We have seven years to practice.”

“That’s terrifying,” Albus whispered. “This is all wrong. I mean, it doesn’t feel so wrong, but it is...” He leaned back against the stone wall, pulling a blanket around himself. “I’m going to get picked on.”

Scorpius sighed. “Me too." 

Albus frowned. "Not necessarily. You could be popular! This is where you’re supposed to be." 

Scorpius laughed. "I am the son of…” He paused. “Well according to them. Sorry, my dad is bad at saying his name still and I need to learn to break the habit." 

"Voldemort?” Albus questioned. “People are still afraid to say that?” Albus had never considered what had happened to the death eaters after the war. 

“Of course.” Scorpius looked surprised. “My dad might’ve been on the opposite side of the war but it was by force. I don’t think anything could hurt him more than knowing I had no friends because of a stupid rumour." 

"I’m your friend!” Albus butted in. 

“I thought you only stayed for my sweets?” Scorpius mocked. 

Albus smiled at him. “The sweets are a perk.”

Scorpius looked like he’d accomplished something. 

“What?” Asked Albus. 

“Nothing. I’m just really glad you’re here.” Scorpius leaned back too. He had made a friend. His first ever friend. 

Albus couldn’t bring himself to reply. He wasn’t happy that he was in Slytherin, but he was happy that he’d met Scorpius. He had a chance to be different and be accepted for who he was, and that filled him with optimism. He saw Scorpius’s eyes begin to drop closed. “Bed?” Albus asked, pulling himself up. 

“I believe that I’m an anomaly,” Harry replied to James, the wrinkles around his eyes smiling. “Seventh year is a big year. I think you would regret not going.”

“Oh yes, I am definitely going regret missing out on those NEWTs.” James said coolly as he leaned against the ladder.

“Maybe not the NEWTs, but the Quidditch matches, the feasts, Hagrid, Beatrice Finch-Fletchley-” Harry didn’t miss the moony-eyed expression that drifted across James’s face at the mention of the beautiful Hufflepuff seeker. “I think you would miss those things.”

“I guess you have a point,” James grumbled. “Besides, what’s one more year?”

“That’s the spirit.” Harry sealed up the paint can, and passed it down to James. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s clean the brushes and then get out of here.”

Eager with his new found ability, James magically clean the brushes before glancing around the room of 12 Grimmauld Place.

“Dad, I leave in two weeks, and there’s still so much to do. There’s the kitchen that needs to be remodelled, and we still need to remove the wretched, wretched portrait off the wall. I swear if I hear ‘Filthy half-blood’ one more time, I’m going to set her on fire.” James face brightened with an idea, watching Harry climb down the ladder. “We could stay the night. It’ll be a guys night out.”

Harry’s frown instantly displayed his thoughts. Spending a few hours fixing up Grimmauld Place, Harry could handle that, but not an entire evening…It had been years since Harry spent an evening here. These walls had held many painful memories, many dark secrets, and many people that Harry once loved so dearly. The memory of Sirius caused Harry’s heart to lurch painfully in his chest. “Your mother will worry. We can start on removing the portrait tomorrow.”

James stared at him, frowning. His cheery disposition deflated, and he packed away the paint supplies in a random closet with less enthusiasm than before. Harry trailed slowly after him, watching.

“James…” Harry started quietly, guilt gnawing at him. He’d ruined what had turned out to be a fun summer project with James before he headed off for his final year at Hogwarts. Inhaling deeply, James turned to Harry with a serious expression that he didn’t wear often.

“I get it, I think. It’s difficult for you to stay here, to own this place. That’s why you’re passing 12 Grimmauld Place off to me.” James said quietly. “Just don’t lie to me and tell me it’s because mum is worried.”

The words stunned Harry. Whatever he expected James to say, that wasn’t it. In a way, James had always reminded him of Ron, the way that he lead with his whole heart, leaving little room for a bit of rationality and perceptiveness. James’s reading of Harry was accurate, and it caught him off guard.Though he would like to think that he knew James from the inside out, he was reminded at this particular moment that no one truly knows anyone. Otherwise, there would be no more surprises left in the world.

You’re right,” Harry admitted. “I shouldn’t have used your mother as an excuse.”

“I’m really glad that we’re fixing up this dump then. Maybe when this place is finally mine, we can start making new memories. Ones that are a little less painful.” James said, leaning against the wall.

Looking into James’s face, Harry was reminded that this was what he had fought for. For a world that didn’t have to live in fear. It was a bravery that Harry had never known.

“You’re growing up to be a brilliant wizard, James,” Harry said affectionately, his eyes growing misty.

“Dad, pull yourself together. I’ll hate to see you on the platform this year.” James flashed him a winsome smile before closing the closet behind him. “Anyway, we should probably get back.”

An urge to be brave like James overcame Harry.

“You know what, let’s stay.”

James froze.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Send an owl out to your mum while I look up places for dinner. Are you hungry?”

Not five minutes had passed after the train's departure when the compartment door slid open and in the doorway stood none other than Rose Granger-Weasley.

"There you are!" she exclaimed.

Albus looked at Rose, who was grinning, and then turned to Scorpius who was smiling back at her. Albus remembered how awkward things had been when Rose and Scorpius were dating, however brief their relationship was. Albus had just realised that he had more than just platonic feelings for his best mate who was apparently in love with his cousin. After weeks of asking, Rose finally agreed to go out with Scorpius, but their three dates didn't go too well, and it ended with Scorpius finally realising whom he had feelings for and having to explain the situation to Rose..

"What are you doing here?  Didn't you say you wanted to catch up with your Gryffindor friends?" Albus asked with a hint of desperation in his voice.

Rose shook her head and sat down. "The compartment was full. And anyway, I wanted to spend some time with my favourite cousin!" she said, ruffling Albus' hair.

Albus pushed her hand away and looked at her disbelievingly before asking: "Mum told you to stay with us in case we decided to run off again, didn’t she?"

Rose's smile faded a bit. "Yes, maybe… But that doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you and Scorpius!"

Rose then warily looked at Scorpius and asked "And how're you doing, Scorp?"

Scorpius sat up, clearing his throat. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. What about you?"

"I'm great! Most of the girls in Gryffindor keep on asking me about you two lovebirds and I'm starting to get sick of the attention. No one even mentioned my new haircut!" She laughed and winked at Albus and Scorpius.

The three of them started talking about school and wondering what spells they would learn in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and what crazy predictions their Divination teacher would make about her students. After a while, Scorpius opened a big packet full of Pepper Imps his father had provided for him and the trio happily ate the sweets as steam was coming out of their ears and noses. After a while, they had run out of topics to talk about, so they looked out of the window, admiring the scenery. Rose shared the set of cauldron cakes she had bought from the trolley (the Trolley Witch still didn't trust Scorpius and Albus) before going to get changed into her school robes.

She walked out of the compartment saying, "I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. You're welcome."

Relieved that his cousin had finally left, Albus kissed his boyfriend.

"Now tell me again how much you missed me,” Albus whispered.

Scorpius chuckled and whispered back, "so much I thought I couldn't go on much longer. If I hadn't been able to send you letters I think I might have died." Scorpius pretended to faint dramatically before letting Albus hug him.

As soon as he got on the platform, he hugged his parents goodbye, and with a promise to write, he rushed on to the train, looking for an empty compartment so that Scorpius could come and find him when he was out of the Prefect meeting.

He soon found a compartment, dragged his trunk in, put it up on a shelf, and sat down and opened a book. The train started moving not long after, and after a little while longer, Scorpius appeared at the door.

“There you are, Albus! I feel like I haven’t seen you in months!” He said excitedly.

“That’s because you haven’t, Scorpius.”

“Oh.”  Scorpius smiled.

He dragged his trunk into the compartment, put it up on one of the shelves and sat down. The pair engaged in a lively conversation, before they were interrupted by Rose.

“Sorry to bother you two, but all the other compartments are full. Would you mind if it sat here?” She asked, looking a bit awkward.

Albus instantly wanted to say no, but before he could, Scorpius replied.

“Of course! We don’t mind, right Albus?”

“It’s fine,” Albus said, reluctantly.

Albus knew that Scorpius was only being nice, he had found out before summer break that Scorpius’s so called crush on Rose had fled as mysteriously as it came.

“Are you sure?” Rose asked. “I don’t want to intrude on anything.”

“Just sit down,” Albus told her.

“Thanks,”

A few awkward moments of silence passed before Scorpius broke it.

“So Albus, Rose, how was your summers?”

Albus and Rose both try to speak at the same time, eager to have something to break the silence. Albus motioned for Rose to go ahead.

Noticing something was obviously wrong, Scorpius was quite concerned. He let Rose ramble on, though, not wanting to interrupt.

Just then, a knock sounded on the door.

“Anything from the trolley dears?” the Trolley Witch called, opening the door just a bit.

Albus and Scorpius exchanged a look and yelled “No!” in unison, sliding the door closed quickly.

Rose laughed. “What was that all about?”

Albus instantly became hostile again, retreating back into his corner of the compartment. Scorpius decided that Albus needed a talking to, so he apologised to Rose and dragged him out.

“Why did you do that?” Albus asked, as soon as they left the compartment.

“Because you’re being rude, and you should probably stop before Rose storms out in anger and leaves you in a bad mood.”

Albus sighed. “You can’t expect me to be nice to her, Scorp. She’s hated us since first year!”

Scorpius shook his head. “Two points;”

Albus smiled. “You always have two points, don’t you?”

“First, it’s sixth year, which means that that is a good five years, so she certainly can’t still hate us. Second, it’s quite obvious that she’s trying,” Scorpius reasoned. “So maybe you should try too.”

“Why are you being so nice? She hated you too!”

“You just said hated past-tense, therefore proving the fact that she doesn’t hate us anymore.” Scorpius replied. “And as much as I love your company, Albus, I would like to make more friends before we graduate and never interact with anyone else. Plus, she’s your cousin. Give her a chance.”

“Fine, I’ll be nice.” Albus said grudgingly, before heading back into the compartment.

---

A few hours passed without any problems, but there was not much progress with Albus’s and Rose’s relationship either. Scorpius kept on trying to start conversations, but it was quite obvious that it was getting nowhere. He finally gave up and left the compartment, mumbling something about using the loo, hoping that Albus and Rose would take this chance to sort out their problems.

After Scorpius had been gone for a couple of minutes, Rose spoke up.

“Hey Albus, do you hate me or something?”

Albus looked up from the book he had pulled out and sighed. “No, not really.”

“Then why were you ignoring me?” She asked quietly.

“Well, maybe because you have been really rude to Scorp and I since first year?” Albus replied.

Rose’s face fell. “Oh.”

“And you know, it hurts quite a bit when your cousin starts teasing you because you aren’t like the rest of our family.”

“I’m sorry, Albus,” she said softly. “I didn’t realise how mean I was being.”

Albus sighed again. “It’s fine, just please be nicer?”

Rose smiled. “Of course! If I could, I’d go back and slap myself.”

Albus laughed. “Time traveling is never a good idea, Rose. Fourth year proved that.”

She went over and sat next to Albus. “You think we can still be friends?”

He leaned over and hugged her. “Of course.”

Scorpius, who had been standing outside the entire time, came in almost as soon and they stopped hugging, giving off such a wide smile, Albus couldn’t get mad at him for spying,

---

She sighed again and turned to stare up at her ceiling, where her mum placed plastic glow-in-the-dark stars to create constellations. Despite her dad growing up in a very non-Muggle house, the Granger-Weasley household leaned more to Hermione’s Muggle side. There weren’t enchanted irons or knitting needles.  That even meant that Ron needed to take the Muggle driving test. Hermione wanted to show her children that both the Wizarding and the Muggle worlds could co-exist; that both were equal.

Rose looked at the constellations. “Orion,” she whispered. “Cassiopeia.”

A squeak in the floorboard outside her door startled her and she suddenly turned towards the sound.

It was silent again.

She let out the breath that she apparently was holding in. She shook her head, as if to clear her mind.

Why am I so nervous? she thought to herself.

She was finally going to Hogwarts. This had been her dream ever since she could remember. Some of her first memories were of others talking about the Battle of Hogwarts and her parents, her aunt, and uncle. How brave they were. How they were heroes. Even now, after so many years, a random witch or wizard would come up to her parents and shake their hands, giving their deep appreciation.

How can I live up to that? 

She turned and looked at her clock. 3:45.

She sat up and picked up a pencil and pad of paper from the nightstand. She looked at the pencil, and chuckled softly. She recalled when her mum gave her the box of pencils, pens, and markers two years ago.

“You’ll be using quills at Hogwarts but here in the Muggle world, these are what you need.” Hermione picked up the pencil. “The sharp end is what you write with; the rubber end is how you erase what you wrote.”

Ron walked in the room with Hugo sitting on his shoulders. “Your granddad was fascinated with all of that. Remember that quill pen we had for the guest book at our wedding? He took it apart halfway through the reception.”

Hermione smiled. “And then George bought an entire set in different colors for your dad’s birthday.”

“Mum couldn’t visit Bill, Fleur and the kids quick enough.” Ron chuckled. “Just so dad could ramble about those damn things all by himself.”

Hugo loudly yelled out “Damn!” which made Hermione give Ron a look to which he grinned, sheepishly.

Rose giggled both back then and in her darkened room as she recalled Hugo’s first curse word. I’m going to miss that little squirt. She and Hugo said their goodbyes the day before as he was visiting Grandma and Grandpa Granger for the weekend to give her parents some much needed alone time.

The clock finally hit 4:00.

Putting the pencil to the notepad, Rose started to write out “How to Succeed…” then she erased it quickly.

She started again “Ten ways to…”

Erase.

“Making sure…”

Erase.

She tapped the pad with the end of the pencil. Her eyes glanced around the room. In the dark, she could still make out her signed Holyhead Harpies poster, the overflowing bookcase, a box of tricks from Weaselys’ Wizard Wheezes, her truck packed for the upcoming journey… her eyes stopped at the family portrait on the wall next to her window.  There was no movement as it was a Muggle photo. Everyone was still, just like they were when the photo was taken. Rose had specifically asked for the photo like that.

Taken a year ago, she and Hugo sat on the center of their couch with their parents flanked on either side of them. Her mother’s hair still seemed wild yet put-together. Her father had subconsciously covered his arms, blocking view to his scars. Hugo gave a toothless grin as his two front teeth had fallen out the day before. And then there was Rose. She had styled her hair the same way as her mother. Her clothes were the same colour as well. Even how she sat up on the couch. Just like Hermione.

While still looking at the photo, she wrote something on the notepad.

“What My Parents Did At Hogwarts”

She looked down and continued her list. Remembering all the details on how her parents met. And how they met Harry. And what to do at Sorting. And which classes Hermione took each year. And how Ron tried out for Quidditch.

This was her checklist. She was going to accomplish everything her parents did and more.

She yawned, and then glanced at her clock. 4:19

She put the notepad and pencil back on the nightstand and settled back into bed. Maybe I could get some sleep now.

*

“I thought you’d send an owl…” Albus says, feeling more and more lost by the second. After leaving his father in a huff he’d been looking forward to having a laugh with Scorpius – his best friend is usually full of bad jokes and exaggerated tales coming back from the summer. Albus is convinced he stores them up when they’re apart just to let them pour out on the train ride to Hogwarts, and he would have been grateful for it today, but the Scorpius he’s found… well, it’s not the one he was expecting.

“I couldn’t work out what to say,” Scorpius mutters, hunched over in his seat. He’s good at making himself small. Albus knows this. It comes in handy on nights they don’t get priority seating in the common room, or when they have to study in the dorm, huddled up on one of their beds because the common room was too loud and the library too full of bullies.

Now it’s not useful. Now it’s painful for Albus to see. Scorpius isn’t hunched over a book or taking up as little space as possible just because he can. Scorpius is collapsing in on himself, his arms tight around his waist like he’s coming apart at the seams and trying to hold himself together.

Albus sinks into the seat across from him. “And now I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” Scorpius mutters.

Albus searches for the right thing – something to help Scorpius hold himself together in some way. ‘I’m sorry’ is useless. Scorpius knows Albus is sorry. Everyone is sorry when a child loses their mother. Albus doesn’t have any sweets to offer him – that’s Scorpius’ territory and he’s come to trust his friend’s ability to curate their Hogwarts Express snacks. He wracks his brain but comes up empty.

Full of flies and bits of fluff indeed, Albus thinks bitterly.

“Is there anything…?” Albus asks. He’d happily take some instruction – a list of things his friend needs. Things he can do or get to help, but he knows it isn’t that simple.

Scorpius looks up at him for the first time, and Albus takes in the state of his face – paler than normal with deep dark circles under his eyes that nearly look like bruises. Albus supposes this must feel like getting punched.

“Come to the funeral?” Scorpius asks. He doesn’t look hopeful. He looks desperate.

“Of course,” Albus says quickly, nearly offended that Scorpius even feels he has to ask.

“And be my good friend.”

Albus doesn’t feel like he’s a very good friend right now. He feels particularly rotten instead. How long ago had this happened? How long has Scorpius been grieving with only his father at his side? It must have been a couple days at least if Draco was willing to let him leave. But even then… Scorpius shouldn’t be here.

“Anything,” Albus says. “When did…”

He doesn’t want to finish the question. Scorpius knows what it is anyway and starts picking at a loose thread on the seat cushion. Their designated compartment is the most damaged on the train, which assures them privacy on each journey to and from the castle. Albus has always simultaneously hated the Hogwarts Express and harboured a soft spot for it. Hogwarts sometimes feels like a prison and he dreads returning all summer – at least at home he can escape the gaggle of Gryffindors he lives with by locking himself in his bedroom – but the Hogwarts Express is also where he met Scorpius, and Hogwarts is the only place he gets to see his best friend. 

“Thursday afternoon,” Scorpius says. It’s Sunday now and Albus isn’t sure if he’s glad Scorpius had at least a couple days to adjust or if he’s upset Scorpius hadn’t sent an owl in such a considerable amount of time. Albus’ mum would have certainly let him take some Floo powder to get to the Malfoy Manor. She might have even delivered him herself.

“Oh,” is all Albus knows to say. He wracks his brain for an indication of what to do. He’s been around grief so rarely, and normally he’d be grateful that his entire family is alive and healthy, but right now he’s at a disadvantage. He’s never watched anyone comfort someone who’s lost a parent or anyone close. He doesn’t know what to do.

Scorpius looks down again, his hair hanging in his eyes. It’s limp like he’s gone a day too long without washing it, which is a sure indicator that Scorpius isn’t handling this well at all. Albus has joked more than once that his middle name should be hygiene instead of Hyperion.

Albus, feeling quite lame and useless, gets up from his seat and slowly moves over to sit next to Scorpius. He wonders what his dad would do if Ron was sitting beside him, looking like he was about to cry. Would he hug him? Probably, but Albus has never seen Scorpius hug anyone aside from his mum, and Albus doesn’t think he wants to remind Scorpius of that right now. He’s at a loss now and he wouldn’t know what to do if Scorpius really did start crying…

Albus does the only thing he knows to do. It always works when Scorpius is anxious about things at Hogwarts, and he hopes it applies to grief too. 

“Aunt Hermione was over last night,” Albus lies. “She was talking with mum and dad and something came up about the Goblins and wand legislation and the Goblin Rebellion of 16-something. I was too afraid to ask her why it mattered…”

“Why it mattered?” Scorpius asks, looking at Albus from under his hair. His arms loosen around his waist. “Albus, the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 is one of the most important events in goblin-wizard relations and the development of the wizarding court system as we know it today.”

“Right,” Albus says. He knew all of this, of course. He’d written the end of his History of Magic homework earlier in the week. He leans back in his seat, arranging his face into the most disinterested and lazy expression he has. “But I just don’t see how it’s important now.”

“How it’s important now?” Scorpius is truly insulted now. He sits up, staring at Albus with wide, red eyes that are painful to look at, but Albus does anyway. “Albus Severus, you really need to read the chapter in A History of Magic. Bathilda Bagshot has a wonderfully concise chapter – you could catch up in no time.”

“I forgot my copy,” Albus gambles. There’s a good chance Scorpius has the book in his bag instead of his trunk. It’s his favourite and he usually keeps it on-hand when he’s upset. “Mum’s already sending it. I left it on my desk.”

Scorpius sighs and what little bit of posture he’s regained falls away as he slumps over, this time in irritation with Albus, but Albus is certain it’s better than thinking of his mum’s body back at the Manor, awaiting burial. Scorpius dutifully gets up and starts rummaging in his bag on the floor for something, and Albus is pleased to find his prediction is accurate. Still, he has one more question before he devotes himself wholly to distracting Scorpius.

“Before you start lecturing me,” Albus says, as if this hadn’t been his plan, “why did you come back so soon? McGonagall would have given you time.”

Scorpius’ hand pauses over the barely-visible spine of History of Magic. He’s bent down and since he hasn’t put his robes on yet, he’s in just his jumper. Albus is dismayed to find he can count individual vertebrae on Scorpius’ back as he moves. Clearly, he’s lost some weight. The summer wasn’t kind. 

“My dad has his parents,” Scorpius said. “I’ve never really gotten along with my grandfather, as you know. Instead of staying there, I…”

Scorpius trails off and stands, uselessly attempting to smooth down his jumper. He clutches his leather-bound copy of History of Magic to his chest as one would hold a teddy bear.

“Well, I wanted to come back here where I could be with my only friend. At least for a bit. I sort of…” He trails off and fidgets with the frayed corner of the well-worn book and looks down. “I sort of insisted. Fought him on it.”

Albus isn’t sure if he’s happy to hear that or if it adds more pressure. Regardless, he takes a breath and stares at Scorpius’ overly-pale face for a moment before patting the empty seat beside him. They both know Albus is just trying to distract him – it’s painfully obvious – but Scorpius takes a seat anyway and gives Albus a grateful smile.

—

Albus has never spent a lot of energy appreciating Hogwarts. He grew up hearing tales of its grandeur and the castle didn’t have many surprises for him when he arrived. Scorpius, however, found that the school met all his expectations perfectly upon arrival, much to his delight. He’d been ecstatic to return in their second year, and Albus hoped as they walked towards the carriages that the sight of the turrets and towers would brighten Scorpius’ spirits.

He’d forgotten, of course, about the Thestrals.

Scorpius is chattering on about their lessons this year – the things he hopes they’ll be learning. He’s so wrapped up in what he was saying that Albus realises what’s going to happen before it happens. One of the carriages, already full of students, is pulling away, pulled by an invisible being, and Albus freezes, remembering his father’s tale of the first time he’d seen the Thestrals. Albus still isn’t able to see them, as he’s been lucky enough to avoid seeing someone die thus far, but Scorpius… 

“Hey!” Albus says, jumping in front of Scorpius. “I’ve got an idea!“ 

"Oh, no,” Scorpius says automatically. “Albus, I don’t really have the energy for any of your ideas,” he says, drawing air quotes around the last word. In doing so his bag slips from his shoulder and he awkwardly scrambles to catch it, giving Albus the opportunity to wheel him around back toward the train.

 "It’s a good idea,“ Albus says. "A safe idea. Not like sitting on the edge of the Owlery.”

Scorpius shudders at the memory and follows Albus against the heavy current of students heading towards the castle. Albus doesn’t have to look hard to locate his mark once they get to the train – Hagrid towers over a slew of excited first years.

“What are you doing, Albus?” Scorpius mutters, hunched over a bit as they approach the crowd. Albus places both hands on Scorpius’ shoulders as they reach the back of it and straightens his friend’s collar. Scorpius Malfoy is never disheveled – ever – and he doesn’t want to give anyone extra reason to stare at him.

“Can you stay here? For just a moment?” Albus asks. One of the first years has stopped and is staring at them, and Albus isn’t sure which one of them is of more interest.

Scorpius carefully eyes the little girl and she scurries off, afraid. He sighs.

“Sure.”

Albus hates to leave him but knows it’s only for a moment. He pushes his way through the crowd – carefully at first and then without care. His best friend is far more important than the comfort of some snot-nosed first years, he decides, and doesn’t stop until he gets to Hagrid. 

He calls up to his dad’s friend. Albus has never minded Hagrid – he’s always been very nice to the Potters and always brings fun presents, even if they are a little weird. Better than Uncle Neville’s, at least (he wanted birthday gifts, not amateur herbology projects). 

“Hagrid!” Albus yells, but the giant is too busy corralling first years.

“Firs’ years!” he bellows. “Firs’ years, this way!”

Albus stands on his toes and looks at Scorpius, who’s already got his arms wrapped back around himself. Now that he’s not aware he’s being observed, his eyes are shifting back and forth warily. He’s vulnerable and exposed – something Albus needs to remedy quickly.

He grabs a fistful of Hagrid’s robes and tugs at them. When Hagrid doesn’t respond, he yanks harder, knocking a few sausages loose from his pocket. Hagrid turns and looks down at him, a grin growing beneath his wild gray beard. He’s an overgrown, ruddy Santa Claus and if he can give Albus what he needs right now, he promises he’ll ask for nothing at Christmas.

“Albus!” Hagrid cries. “Good ter see yeh, but ’m ‘fraid now’s not the time. 'Bout ter get these firs’ years off-”

“Hagrid, I need your help!” Albus says loudly and motions for Hagrid to bend over. He’s taller than the first years, but not nearly tall enough to have a somewhat private conversation with an eight and a half foot man. Hagrid frowns and bends down, and Albus gets as close to him as he can.

“Can Scorpius and I go across on the boats?”

“Al, yeh know I can’ do tha’,” Hagrid says.

“Hagrid, he loves Hogwarts,” Albus says, bordering on whining. “And his mum died a few days ago, and the Thestrals… please?”

Hagrid pulls back and looks at Albus’ face, and Albus uses the only trick he has available. He stares up at Hagrid desperately with his wide green eyes, hoping he looks enough like his father in that moment to pull it off. It’s something he rarely hopes for.

Hagrid’s face softens beneath the tangle of wild hair and he looks at Scorpius. Albus see’s he’s taken to hugging his copy of History of Magic again and is tracing his finger over the raised logo on the book.

“Alrigh’,” Hagrid says. “Yeh can ride in the boat with me.”

“Thank you, Hagrid,” Albus says quickly, and much to his own surprise hugs Hagrid’s arm, as it’s the closest thing he can reach. He runs off before Hagrid can say anything else, and by the time he reaches Scorpius again Hagrid has started leading the first years down toward the shore where the boats are docked.

“What was all that about?” Scorpius asks, glum.

“I don’t like the carriages. Do you?” Albus asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “It’s really not fair that we only get to see Hogwarts from the lake once. Fortunately, I’m a Potter.”

“You convinced him to let us take the boats?” Scorpius asks. Albus nods, and is so relieved when Scorpius’ mouth twitches into a bit of a smile. 

“You didn’t have to do that, Albus,” Scorpius says.

“Of course I did,” Albus says. He slings his arm around Scorpius’ shoulders and ushers him along behind the first years. “Besides – if we’d stayed at the carriages we would have wound up with Polly Chapman.”

It’s telling that Scorpius doesn’t use this opportunity to bring up his undying love for Rose Granger-Weasley and the fact that he hasn’t seen her yet. They make their way down to the water and wait until Hagrid has all the first years situated in their boats, and Albus watches as Scorpius tucks his book away for safekeeping.

 "All righ’ you two,“ Hagrid says when only the three of them are left. He points to the large boat at the center of the line and Albus and Scorpius move towards it. They step into the mud and Albus is pleased to see Scorpius grimace at the sinking sensation. It means his Malfoy Neatness Sensibility is still fully intact.

Albus climbs in first and takes Scorpius’ bag from him, since he seems a bit imbalanced. Scorpius even lets him assist his transfer into the boat, taking Albus’ hand for stability. He sits down on the bench at Albus’ side, staring blankly ahead into the darkness of the lake and mutters 'thanks’ as Hagrid climbs in behind them.

At once, all the boats start to move. They glide into the glassy surface of the lake with ease, cutting into the water and creating ripples. Their view of the trees is unobscured, as Hagrid’s boat leads the others. Albus can only see a couple more in his periphery.

"Fun, right?” Albus says, hopeful. He looks at Scorpius’ pale face as he stares out across the water. The sun set about a half hour ago and they’re lit by the warm glow of the boat’s lantern. It does a little for Scorpius’ complexion, but nothing at all could mitigate the miserable expression on his face.

Albus looks over his shoulder at Hagrid, seeking help from the only adult around who might know what to do. But Hagrid is looking at Scorpius with pity and just shakes his head at Albus, shrugging his great shoulders. He’s got nothing to offer. 

Albus stays quiet for a few more minutes until they round a hill that juts into the water. The castle comes into view in one fabulous moment.

The first time they did this it was drizzling and the moon was obscured by clouds. Tonight it’s clear enough that Albus could count the windows on each of the towers if he’d had the time. The Great Hall is a glowing beacon ahead of them, and its reflection in the still water magnifies the light. 

Albus looks at Scorpius. There’s a small, sad smile on his face. His eyes are soft as he looks up at the castle, sniffling a little bit as he does so. Albus doesn’t say anything as Scorpius wipes a bit of moisture from under his eyes.

“It still gives me tingles,” Scorpius says. “The castle, I mean. Seeing it for the first time after summer.”

“Geek,” Albus says affectionately.

“Yeah,” Scorpius laughs. “I know you don’t like it here, but…”

“But you do,” Albus supplies. Scorpius nods, his mouth curving into a small frown. 

“Mum liked it here too,” he says weakly. “She was afraid when she was a kid that she wouldn’t get to come. My grandparents… they were afraid it would take years off her life, or that a simple accident would…”

He swallows hard, his eyes still glued to the castle as it slowly draws nearer. “She said she loved the food the most. Mum always loved sweets, and here she could have as much dessert as she wanted.”

“We should have one of everything tonight, then,” Albus says. “For her.”

Scorpius looks at him, and Albus isn’t surprised at all to see tears running down his cheeks. He’d have been more surprised if he wasn’t crying.

“Your sugar tolerance isn’t as high as mine,” Scorpius says. “You can’t keep up.”

It takes a second for Albus to process that Scorpius is joking, but when he does, his first real grin of the day breaks across his face and it makes Scorpius smile a bit too. Just a bit.

“Thanks, Albus,” Scorpius says, and it’s so sincere that Albus doesn’t know what to say. He wants so badly to comfort Scorpius – to make something feel better and he hopes he’s done it, at least a little. Albus just nods and looks back up at the castle with Scorpius, and tries his best to stay sturdy and still when Scorpius leans into his side as though he can’t support his own weight anymore.

—

The feast is exceptional, and Albus is so glad to see that the kitchens have sent up some of everything for dessert. The small sting of Lily being sorted into Gryffindor is overshadowed by the misery on Scorpius’ face, and Albus wholly devotes himself to the dessert mission. He’s even foregone his usual second helping of mashed potatoes to leave room for some treacle tart and pumpkin pie, which Scorpius serves him with as much enthusiasm as he can muster.

By the time they’ve had some of everything and start making their way toward the Slytherin dungeon, Albus is feeling well and truly awful. Scorpius is bemoaning that last bit of fudge, saying that it was the final square that did him in, but Albus is pretty sure the damage was done with his second slice of pie and the extra fruit tart he ate. 

The first years are divided into two groups in the common room – those who are excited to be in Slytherin and those who think Sorting Hat has made a most grievous error. Albus asked James last year if this happened in Gryffindor and he said no, so Albus is sure it’s a Slytherin-only phenomenon. The room is covered with students catching up and meeting for the first time. The Great Hall is large enough that the number of students isn’t overwhelming, but the common room is packed, and Albus doesn’t really want to be a part of it. 

“Do you want to go to the dorm?” Albus asks. He looks at Scorpius for the first time since they’ve entered and finds him white as a sheet, his eyes darting from face to face and cluster to cluster. He’s overcome and it shows. Albus places a careful hand above his elbow and guides Scorpius towards the dorms. 

Scorpius is pliant and follows along easily. Albus doesn’t let go until they reach the passage to the dorms, but Scorpius stays beside him, his eyes blank as he stares ahead.

“Common room is busy,” Scorpius mutters.

“It’s too loud,” Albus says. He wouldn’t contradict him even if he had wanted to stay out there. “Too many people.”

“I really just want to go to bed,” Scorpius says. There’s a bit of shame lingering in his voice and on his face, and Albus looks at him as he pushes the door to their dorm open.

“I don’t blame you,” Albus says. “It’s been a long day.”

Scorpius gives a noncommittal hum and tosses his bag onto his bed before flopping down onto the mattress. It’s dramatic, but not wholly unwarranted. Albus sighs and rubs his face, wishing (not for the first time) that his best friend came with an instruction manual.

And that’s when he sees it.

Scorpius’ trunk is situated at the foot of the bed, and on the front of it, painted in bright, blocky red letters is “Scorpius H. Voldemort.”

It’s not inventive. It’s actually rather stupid, and Albus knows it’s not the name calling that bothers Scorpius so much – it’s the implication that his mother went to bed with the Dark Lord, and today is not the day for Scorpius to have to think about that.

Albus’ thumb works over the seed markings along the handle of his wand as he draws it from the pocket of his robes. A cleaning spell and some stain-cleaning potion should do it – the paint doesn’t look like it’s enchanted – but he needs to get Scorpius out of the room.

“Scorp?”

Scorpius responds with a pained moan from his bed.

“Don’t you think a shower would help you feel better?”

He gives another pained groan as he rolls onto his side, hugging his pillow.

“I read something over the summer,” Albus lies. “On the Muggle internet. It said that when you’ve had too much sugar a hot shower or bath can aid in digestion.”

“Why on earth would you have read that?”

“Because you do this at least three times a year,” Albus replies. “That’s why. I knew you’d need it.”

Scorpius struggles into a sitting position, his hand on his stomach as it grumbles angrily at him. Even Albus’ isn’t doing that, but he supposes the stress Scorpius is under is having hidden effects as well.

“Albus Severus,” Scorpius says. “That’s incredibly thoughtful.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Albus grumbles. He shuffles over and sits atop the defaced trunk, letting his robes fan out so they cover the writing. He disguises the action by plucking the copy of History of Magic from Scorpius’ nearby bag and opens it to a random page.

He hears telltale sounds of Scorpius rummaging in the wardrobe for pyjamas – the House Elves always put the clothes away first – and a few seconds later Scorpius appears in front of him. The green glow from the lake gives him a sickly look – it usually does but tonight it’s pronounced, and the circles under his eyes look deep and painful.

“Nice relaxing shower,” Albus urges. “Make your stomach feel better.”

Scorpius just nods and heads towards the bathroom, dragging his feet. He opens the door and the bright light of the bathroom leaks into the dorm room, and Albus hopes Scorpius doesn’t look back because he doesn’t think he’s entirely covered the red paint.

Fortunately, Scorpius is too weary to do anything like that. He just kicks the door closed behind himself, his feet heavy and his arms dangling at his sides.

Albus slams the book shut and throws it back on the bed as soon as he hears the water start running. He swings into action, crouching in front of Scorpius’ otherwise pristine trunk – it must be new – and examines the damage. The paint is nearly dry and is barely tacky to the touch. He hopes it will come off easily. He grabs his wand and casts a few Scourgifies across the canvas. For nearly five minutes he siphons off the paint, concentrating as hard as he can until only a faint, unreadable shadow remains.

For that, he needs his mum’s help.

Albus dives over to his bed and opens his trunk. He rummages around, throwing things onto the floor indiscriminately. His quills stop ink bottles from rolling away and he tosses his scarf up onto his bed. He digs until he finds it – a small bag with a few potions in it with a note tied around the drawstring-

For emergencies.

Love you,

Mum

Tears well in Albus’ eyes unexpectedly. He’s never gotten on well with his dad, but his mum… she always seemed to understand him, or understood that she didn’t and listened when he needed her to. It takes him a second to connect why he’s feeling such overwhelming gratitude – gratitude so strong it’s crippling.

His mum is alive and well. She’s at home now, probably cleaning up from supper or sitting on the sofa with a book wrapped in her worn bathrobe that Albus and Lily bought for her at Christmas at least five years ago. He imagines her now, wrapped in the soft pink cotton, smiling as she turns a page, accepting a glass of wine from Harry as he joins her, and Albus instantly wishes he were at home where he could hug her and tell her he loves her.

He doesn’t have time for that, though. He looks at the vials inside – one for stomach upsets, one for sleep, and one for stains. He grabs the right one and looks around for a cloth. If he goes into the bathroom to grab one, Scorpius will start chatting and he won’t be able to finish the job, so Albus grabs the nearest thing he can and heads back over.

He splashes the clear potion onto the green and grey stipes of his scarf and starts rubbing it on the trunk. The potion isn’t meant for knit – the fibers of the scarf start to discolor – but Albus doesn’t care. He’s got a few galleons stowed at the bottom of his trunk for emergencies like this one. He can order another one from the school.

Sometimes, he thinks as he desperately rubs the potion into the 'V’, sacrifices must be made.

He’s nearly satisfied with his work when he hears the water shut off in the bathroom. Albus scrambles for his wand and siphons off the excess moisture and casts lumos to check his work. There’s not a mark on the trunk and he grins, satisfied. He throws his ruined scarf under his bed, corks the vial of stain potion, and tosses it back into his trunk. With only a minute left, he haphazardly tosses his things back into the trunk and has just barely thrown himself down onto his own bed when Scorpius emerges in blue striped pajamas, drying his hair.

“Feel better?” Albus asks.

Scorpius sniffs as he pulls the bathroom door closed. He’s been crying. Albus would regret sending him off for a few minutes of solitude if he didn’t know seeing the trunk would be worse. Besides… sometimes it’s better to let it out.

“A bit,” Scorpius confesses as he sits on his bed. “Stomach still hurts, though.”

“Well, you can’t have everything,” Albus half-teases, and Scorpius gives him a weary smile that’s barely visible in the low light of the room.

“I think I’m going to sleep now,” Scorpius says weakly, as if asking if that’s okay. Albus sits up and looks at him. They face one another, and Albus grips the edge of his bed, trying to keep his own swirling emotions at bay because this isn’t about him at all. He doesn’t have a right to feel grateful that his mom is alive, guilty because he’s grateful, sad because he didn’t get the fun Scorpius he’s used to, or desperate because he wants to make his friend feel better. He doesn’t have a right to those things, and decides that the best course of action is to just help Scorpius feel like things can be normal again someday.

“Okay,” Albus says. “But if you can’t sleep or something in the middle of the night, wake me up?”

Scorpius gives a weak nod, and Albus knows he won’t do it even if he can’t sleep.

“I have some Sleeping Draught,” Albus offers. “If you need it.”

“Dad gave me some,” Scorpius says. “But… thanks.”

“It’s okay if you need mine. Mum made me take it with me-”

“No, Albus,” Scorpius interrupts, but his voice is kind. He looks up at Albus and stares directly into his eyes. It’s so sincere that Albus can’t do anything but stare back. Much like he’s been the rest of the day, Albus is at a loss for what to say or do.

“Thank you,” Scorpius says earnestly, and Albus knows he means for more than the potion offer. Albus gives him a weak nod, and watches as Scorpius tugs the hangings around his bed, leaving only a bit open between them like they always do, just in case. 

Albus watches him through the curtains as he settles in, curling around his pillow. He can barely hear the ruckus from the common room from here and he knows it’s early. Their dorm mates won’t even be considering bed for at least another hour. The last thing he wants to do is disturb Scorpius if he can get some rest, so Albus waits until he hears Scorpius’ breathing level out before digging in his bag and succumbing to some of his own anxiety.

He draws out a bit of parchment and an envelope, and settles it atop a book. After casting lumos, he stares down at the blank page. He doesn’t know what to say, but knows he needs to figure it out now if he wants the letter to go out in the morning post. He grabs a Muggle pen (a gift from Aunt Hermione) and starts to write.

Dear mum,

It started during the summer before fifth year; Lily was the first to notice. Her older brother wouldn’t engage in their typical conversations anymore. Whenever she tried to start something he either gave quick, simple answers, or didn’t talk at all. She quickly caught on that he was not right.

“What’s your damage, Al?” She asked him one night. 

He looked up from his book with slight bags under his eyes. He had been losing sleep. “Huh?” He hadn’t even heard her. 

“You’re not talking to me. You just sit there with an expression like you’re pondering jumping off a bridge.” 

“Is that an option?” He made sure to put some lightness and sarcasm in his voice so she wouldn’t take it seriously. She simply rolled her eyes at him. 

“Come on, tell me,” she pleaded. 

The corners of his mouth pulled up into the slightest of smiles but then dropped almost immediately. Sure it was nice that she cared, but he couldn’t tell her. 

“I’m fine,” he lied. 

She looked at him a couple seconds longer before turning away. “If you say so.”

His parents noticed too. His mother would ask him if he was feeling alright since he was spending more time in his room and had eaten the family’s supply of cookies, but he simply turned her down with a simple, “I’m fine, Mum, just tired.”

His father would ask if there was something on his mind when he’d catch him spacing off but he always got the same reply. “Just bored.”

James was harder to convince though.

James Sirius Potter was stubborn that’s for sure. When he noticed something was up it didn’t take very long for him to take action.

Albus looked at his clock. 3am. They’d be on the train back to school soon. That meant Hogwarts. That meant Scorpius. That’s not that bad, he thought to himself. 

What do you mean? he argued against himself. Of course it is. You’re a mess and he’s going to notice. 

He sighed as he sat up. He didn’t have the energy to argue with himself. He stared at his wall and tried to think of anything but his best friend, but it was hard. More like impossible. He didn’t like keeping all of this in. Ever since third year he hadn’t looked at anything in the same way, especially Scorpius. He cared for him, who doesn’t care for their best friend? He wanted to be around him. Again, who doesn’t? He wanted to hug him. Hold him. Kiss him. Love him.

Love. Is that what you call it? When you want nothing more than to be with someone as often as you can, and make yourself happy just by making them happy. To be there for them when they need you. Is it love? 

Albus could laugh at what he was thinking. He could just imagine what someone would tell him, putting aside what they would say about him being gay. 

“Aren’t you a little young for love?” 

This time he did laugh. It was quiet and dry. It was a sad laugh. The complete opposite of his usual one. He took a breath and closed his eyes.

He stood up and walked over to his desk. He could write Scorp a letter. Yes, a letter. Telling him that they needed to talk. It would reach him by morning, maybe a little before. Maybe coming out to him would be enough for now. It would lift some of the mountains of weight on Albus’ shoulders. He could trust Scorpius, he wanted to trust him, he needed to trust him. What other choice was there? This was killing him inside. He felt like if he didn’t tell someone something soon he would explode. Everything he’d been holding back would spill out at once, most likely in the form of tears. That was the last thing he wanted, especially since he didn’t know when or where it would happen.

It was 6am when he finally finished. He didn’t know why it was so hard. He’d written hundreds of letters to Scorpius before, why was it so hard now? He didn’t have his own owl so he’d have to use James’. Here’s the hard part.

He slowly walked down the hall to his older brother’s room. He pushed open the door as quietly as he could. He gave a sigh of relief when he saw the bed was empty. He must be downstairs or in the bathroom. 

I have to be quick. 

He walked over to the small cage in the corner containing the owl. It gave a light hoot but Albus quickly shushed it.

“You know it’s rude to use people’s things without asking.”

Albus gave a yelp at the sound of the voice and clutched the letter to his chest as he whirled around. James stood there, arms crossed. 

“What’s that?” He asked, nodding his head to the letter that Albus was holding in a death grip. 

“I-I just needed to s-send a letter.” He stammered, losing his hold. 

“It’s 6am, Al!” James said, making a reach for the letter. 

Albus felt like his heart stop. He lunged for it back but James, who was sadly taller, held it just out of reach.

“James, please give it back!” He tried hard not to shout seeing as Lily and his parents were still asleep, but James was trying to unroll the parchment. 

James looked at his little brother whose eyes were shining and whose breathing was rapid. Whatever this parchment said was clearly important. 

“Ok. I won’t read it,” he told him. 

Albus felt like he could breathe again. He tried to take the letter but James still held it out of reach. 

“But I’m not giving it back till you tell me what’s wrong.”

Albus took a step back and stared. “What do you mean?” He asked. 

“Don’t try that crap on me, Al. Something is clearly going on with you and if you don’t tell me I’ll find out from this.” James waved the letter at him.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No!” Albus said, louder then he meant. He sat down on the edge of James’ bed. “I can’t.” His voice was barely a whisper. He felt like something was rising in his chest. Everything he’d been trying to suppress for the last three months was clawing its way out. Right here, right now, in front of James.

James set the letter on his dresser, sat next to Albus, and placed a hand on his shoulder. The second he did, Albus broke. The tears escaped him before he realised. He leaned into James who hugged him. He sat there sobbing into his brother who just rubbed his back and let him. James didn’t say anything, he was just there. It’s what Ginny always did when Albus was upset. Ever since he was a baby she would just hold him close, because that’s all it ever took.

The sun rose without them noticing. Everyone was getting up and ready. Harry came in to wake James but stopped when he opened the door. He wasn’t sure why one of his sons was crying while the other held him. Ginny noticed him standing and went over. She too was shocked. James turned his head and looked at them. 

“What’s happened?” Ginny mouthed to him, concern written on her face. 

“I don’t know.” He mouthed back. He moved his eyes over to the desk and motioned towards the letter. Harry tiptoed into the room and grabbed the letter before moving out. Ginny quietly closed the door back. But before they could open the letter, Lily called out from her room.

“Dad! Can you help me with my trunk?” 

Harry looked to Ginny. 

“Go,” she told him. “I’ll read it.” 

He went over and picked up Lily’s school truck before heading downstairs with her in tow. Ginny unfolded the parchment and read it:

Dear Scorpius, I know it will probably be really early in the morning when you get this but I just need to prepare you and mentally prepare myself. I really need to talk to you on the train. I know we normally get a compartment to ourselves, but this time it’s important that we’re alone. Like, really important.  I’ve had so much on my mind and it’s been making this summer hard. I just feel really bad about shutting my family out when they’ve been asking if I’m ok. But honestly, I’m not. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to talk to you. I just hope I can keep up my confidence, but if it completely plummets I’m so sorry. From,  Albus

Ginny stared at the letter then back to the room. What was wrong? Why wasn’t Albus ok? What did he need to tell Scorpius? Why was he shutting them out?

 The door opened and Albus walked out of James’ room. He saw his mother with the letter and froze. He didn’t know why but he expected her to yell, to be mad. Instead she handed him the letter back and hugged him. “What ever you can tell Scorpius, you can tell us dear.” She told him. 

“It’s not that simple, Mum.” He mumbled.

“I know, it’s probably not. But we love you no matter what and I want to see that beautiful smile of yours again. No matter what you’re still my son,” she said. 

Albus stared up at her. She wore a warm, comforting smile. He quickly looked to the floor and fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I’m- I’m gay,” he said.

He kept his head down and his eyes closed. More tears slipped down his face. 

Ginny cupped his face and wiped his tears with her thumbs. “You’re my son, and I love you no matter what,” she repeated. 

Albus gave a laugh, and this time it sounded happy. Now he was the one to hug her. 

She smiled and kissed the top of his head. “Go and get ready dear, your dad’s making breakfast.” 

James groaned as he walked to the stairs. 

“Oh come on! He can cook,” Ginny argued. James looked at her as though she had grown another head. 

“Yeah even I didn’t believe it,” she told him. 

The two laughed as they went downstairs while Albus went into his room. After he gathered his things, he took a deep breath. More than just a little weight was lifted off him, but some went back on. He still had to tell Scorpius, and possibly Rose. Then it came to his other problem… his love for his best friend. He knew that something was up with their parents, and he didn’t know how Scorp would take it. He doesn’t want to risk losing his best friend. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would be nowhere without him. He means the world to him.

When the Potters entered Platform 9 ¾, the Weasleys saw them and came over.

“Morning Albus.”

“Morning Rose.”

Albus scanned the crowds, looking for a certain blond-haired boy. 

“Looking for Scorpius?” Rose asked him. 

“As always,” he said. 

“He’s still talking to his dad. I think something’s up. He didn’t wave and throw a compliment to me as I walked past,” she told him. 

Albus looked to where she was pointing and sure enough saw Scorpius talking to his father. He wasn’t smiling like usual. He seemed upset, and his father concerned. Scorpius said something prompting Draco to put his hand on his sons shoulder and tell him something. Scorpius threw his arms around him in a tight hug. Draco, a little awkwardly, hugged him back. He ruffled Scorpius’ hair, and Scorpius picked up his stuff and headed to the train. 

Albus quickly said goodbye to his parents, aunt, and uncle before hurrying to catch up to him.

“Hey Scorp!” He said when he caught up. 

Scorpius gave a little jump and nearly dropped the book he was holding. Albus caught it before it hit the ground. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“O-oh no, it’s fine.” Scorpius seemed very anxious. 

“Are you alright, Scorp?” Albus asked. 

“Oh yeah! I’m- I’m fine. Lets just… find a compartment,” he said. 

Albus agreed and they got on the train with all the other students.

They entered a compartment and Albus closed the door, he realized this is what he wanted just a few hours ago as the train set off. He looked to Scorpius, who was reading his book. Albus made sure no one was near the door and even took extra precaution by casting the Muffilato Charm. He sat across from his friend and swallowed.

“Scorpius. I really… need to talk to you.” His voice was shaking. 

Scorpius looked up at him and put his book down. “Something wrong?” He asked. 

Albus tried to respond but couldn’t get a word out. His breath was shaky again and his heart was pounding. 

“Al, whatever it is we can deal with it. Put your trust in me,” Scorpius said. 

Albus looked at him. He didn’t deserve him. He knew he didn’t. He felt tears in his eyes again; he was so done with crying. Scorpius must have noticed, because he moved to sit next to Albus.

“Hey, hey what’s wrong? Albus please tell me! Did something happen?” He took his friend’s hands, concern written all over his face. 

Albus managed to smile, tears rolling down his face. “I don’t deserve you,” he got out.

“Al, what are you talking about?”

“You- you’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for. You’re amazing and sweet and kind and honest and- I don’t deserve to have you in my life. But I’m so lucky that you are and I love you so much,” he told him. 

Scorpius just smiled. “Yet again, what the heck are you talking about? You’re the one that is all of those things. You can make other friends, you can have anyone, yet you chose me. And for that I am eternally grateful.” 

This only made Albus cry more, which worried Scorpius. 

“Oh did I say something wrong? Or is there something else? Please, Al what is it?” 

Albus held Scorpius’ hands tighter. “I’m gay,” he said. He felt Scorpius’ grip loosen which made him fear the worse.

“That’s it?”

Albus met his eyes and nodded. 

“That’s what you were so scared to tell me? Albus, you could walk in here in platform heels and a dress and you’d still be my best friend. And you know what? I just came out to my dad as pansexual, so I know how you feel.” 

Albus stared at Scorpius, eyes wide, before he lunged at him. He pulled him into the tightest hug he’d ever given. Scorpius, of course, hugged him back. 

When they separated Albus kept his courage and went for it. “Can I say one more thing? Or more… ask you something?” He asked. 

Scorpius nodded. 

“Would- would you maybe… go on a date… with me?” He asked. 

Scorpius’ eyes widened. “Oh.” 

Albus’ confidence went down again. He wished he could sink through the seat.

“Sure.” 

His head shot up again. “What?” That was not what he was expecting. 

“Sure! I mean dates are how you see if you are compatible right? And people already say we act like a married couple. I’m willing to see. And if I had to date anybody, I’d be way more than glad to have you.” 

Albus laughed and smiled. “Are you serious?!” Scorpius smiled and nodded. Albus hugged him yet again. 

“C-c-can I?” Scorpius smiled as he placed a soft kiss on Albus’ lips. 

Albus’ cheeks heated up. “Again?” He asked. 

Scorpius laughed but obeyed, drawing this one out longer. He cupped his face and placed kisses everywhere before they just simply held each other.

They spent the ride in each other’s arms and walked to the carriages, to the castle, and into he Great Hall hand in hand. 

*

“There she is! Our newest Gryffindor Weasley!”

Even though Rose recognized that voice instantly, she turned her head to see who had spoken very loudly, upon her entrance in the Gryffindor common room. Unsurprisingly, she found her cousin Fred, who was exuberantly waving at her from a nearby couch. Rose covertly waved back and was made to follow the prefect who was leading her group of first years. However, Fred’s exclamation had attracted the attention of the other Weasley cousins.

“Rose!” Dominique greeted with a smile. “Welcome to our wonderful common room.”

“Hi, Rosie!” James grinned at her from his spot besides Fred on the couch.

Molly looked up from her book to chime in. “You’re going to love it here, Rose.”

“Yeah, we have the coolest common room in the castle!” boasted Fred.

“You only say that because you’ve never been to the other ones, Fred…”

“Well the way the other students talk about theirs, I don’t need to see them to know they sound bloody boring.”

“Hey Rose, did you know that Gryffindor is the only house with an ice cream maker in their common room?”

Rose was surprised by James’ declaration. Now that was a fact she hadn’t discovered in her readings about the school. “Really?”

“No, but it’s on our list of things to sneak in here. Fred and I have a plan.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Oh, not this again. You already tried that three times last year…”

“Ah, but this year our plan is brilliant. Been working on it all summer.”

Amongst her cousins’ banter, Rose heard the Prefect shepherding the first years away. “This way to your dorms…”

James stood and put his arm around Rose, preventing her from following the other first years. “Hey Rosie, come on, we have to show you around.”

As her cousins gave her an impromptu tour of the Gryffindor common room, she took in as much as she could of her surroundings. The reds that decorated the space were vibrant, and the pieces of furniture were all different shades of burgundy and earth-tone browns, which filled the room with an atmosphere of energy and warmth. Yet Rose found that this warmth didn’t quite reach her as she trailed behind her enthusiastic tour guides. Only after her cousins made sure that she knew all the private nooks, comfiest furniture, and useful secrets about the Gryffindor common room was Rose able to take her leave from them.

She climbed up the stairs to the girl’s dorms – or, at least she hoped she was climbing the right stairs, since her prefect guide was long gone – and timidly searched for the first year girls’ dorm. Finally, she heard a vaguely familiar voice filtering through a door that stood ajar.

“Kellie! Red looks really good on you. You were truly destined to be a Gryffindor.” Rose recognized the speaker to be Paulina – or was it Paula? – as she entered the dorm. The girl she was speaking to, Kellie, was beaming as she modelled her new Gryffindor scarf and tie. A third girl – Ashley? Amy? Audrey? – noticed Rose’s entrance and waved hello. The other girls stopped their chatter and turned towards the doorway to stare curiously at the newcomer.

Rose politely waved back and hurriedly made her way to the only remaining four poster bed in the dorm, taking notice of her new Gryffindor uniform that had been placed on top of her trunk. She climbed in and closed the hangings halfway, not wanting to seem anti-social but thankful for the slight privacy they granted her. She had already met her dorm mates on the train, after all, and there would be plenty of time to get to know them better in the next seven years they would spend living together.

Truthfully, Rose had met a lot of people on the train, having spent the journey hopping from compartment to compartment in the hopes she would meet her future best friends. But no one she met had seemed terribly interesting. Of course, she had met many nice and friendly first years, but she hadn’t felt a connection to anyone. It hadn’t helped that every time she had passed Albus and Scorpius’s compartment she had found them in the midst of excited chatter or raucous laughter.

Rose sighed as she thought of Albus. She had always thought she would start her life at Hogwarts with the boy she had grown up with. Even though she was surrounded by her friendly dorm mates and sharing a common room with most of her family, Rose felt alone.

—

Albus quietly exited the Slytherin common room, repeatedly mumbling the password he had been given under his breath. He looked nervously around as he stepped out through the passage way, half expecting one of the upperclassmen to stop him. Yet, no one prevented his exit so he assumed he was still allowed to come and go at this time. He and Scorpius had just finished unpacking their trunks and organising their new living space. They had chosen side-by-side beds – of course – a pair of four-posters sitting below a large circular window and positioned slightly closer together than the other beds. He had taken his leave from his new friend, however, because he now felt the need to talk to a specific person.

Of all the ways he imagined this day would go, he had never thought he’d spend his first day at Hogwarts separated from Rose. He wondered how he was going to get into the Gryffindor common room to talk to her. Maybe he could just knock and hope that one of his cousins would answer the door and let him in? Hopefully he wouldn’t have to see into his brother, since he had spent the entirety of the feast avoiding the curious glances his Gryffindor sibling had thrown his way. Surely James had plenty to say about Albus’s sorting, and he wanted to hear none of it. But as he started to make his way out of the dungeons he found that he didn’t have to dread facing his brother right away, because Rose was there, heading towards him. He smiled and waved timidly at his cousin.

They met in the middle of the corridor leading to the dungeons.

After a few moments spent looking at each other, Albus broke their uneasy silence. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Rose replied curtly.

Albus proceeded, unsure of what to say. “Did you enjoy the feast?”

“Yes. Although someone seemed to be missing from our house table.”

“I don’t know what happened at the Sorting Rose, I didn’t think I wanted…” Albus trailed off, not knowing how to explain to Rose how he had felt when the Sorting Hat had announced that he was a Slytherin.

“There must be some mistake then. You’re a Potter-Weasley. Why aren’t you in Gryffindor?”

“We talked about being Sorted in other houses than Gryffindor, Rose. We knew it could happen. And your mum and my dad always taught us that all the houses had different qualities. Not better, not worse, just different.”

“Yes, but we never thought we would be separated by the Sorting.” Rose cast her gaze down at the stone floor as she spoke, as if unwilling to look at her cousin.

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends…”

“But you’re in Slytherin, Albus!”

Albus took a deep breath. When he next spoke he tried to keep his voice calm, wanting Rose to understand that Slytherin house wasn’t like they had feared. Wanting her to understand that deep down, he knew the sorting hat was right, that he was a Slytherin.

“I like it so far, actually. The Slytherin common room is really cool. I wish I could show it to you. I think you would like it. The different greens everywhere are really soothing. I didn’t think I would like green this much. Scorpius says it matches my eyes…”

“You and Scorpius seem to be getting along well then.”

Albus was startled by Rose’s interruption. “It’s like you hoped,” he finally replied. “We found our real friends on the train.” His words had come out fiercer than he intended, but something about Rose’s tone had irked him.