hurricane

Pasta was an easy subject. It had always been their comfort food and they both knew it. It was the thing Draco made when they got back from Astoria’s funeral. Narcissa offered to cook three times, she was even staying over at the house, but Draco refused and when she didn’t want to listen he just walked into the kitchen and did it. It was done an hour early and he had to reheat it for dinner, but it was decent. Asking if Scorpius wanted pasta was also asking if he felt if it was a day for pasta. It was. “Cheese sauce,” he confirmed. “I almost want to say bring wine. Nothing strong, but one glass wouldn’t be so bad. You can bring one from the cellar.” All of that already confirmed he wasn’t the only one struggling, but hearing Scorpius admit it aloud was important to Draco. It meant he still felt comfortable enough discussing things like this with his father. “I know,” he told his son softly. “I think it’s the atmosphere. It seems to be similar at every funeral I’ve ever attended. And of course -” He paused, looked up and away and then back Scorpius, “the fact that a mother died. That bothers me the most.”  When asked how he was, Draco sighed briefly. He pressed his lips together and let himself take in Scorpius. People always told him Scorpius looked like him. He didn’t see it. People just saw the obvious, the grey eyes and the blond hair, but Draco felt like he saw the details. “I’m managing,” he said then. “As one does at a funeral that isn’t from their loved one. What about you? How are you holding up?”

Scorpius had known what his father meant when he asked about the food. It was something easy to eat when his stomach was tying in knots as well, a further advantage. Hearing bring wine was music to his ears, given the occasion. He hadn’t had a drink when he got here, wanting to keep a clear head, but the thought of a decent glass of wine with dinner and maybe after now sounded appealing. “I’ll stop by the manor and visit Grandmother,” he said. “I was going to anyway, but I could bring a bottle of white from there?”

The softness in his father’s voice told Scorpius that he was seen, that he was understood. It also made him glad that they’d planned to spend that evening together, because he cared too much about his father to leave him alone. “It’s kind of stifling,” he said quietly, careful to keep it so only they could hear one another. “Like a weight on my chest somehow. Does it feel the same way for you, or different?” The glance away was something he’d seen before, when his father was addressing something painful. This time was no different, as it turned out. Mom. “Yeah, me too,” he said softly, reached out and briefly slung an arm around his dad’s shoulders before letting go, a show of affection that he gave easily. “Neither of us would wish it on others.” They’d already lived through it. They knew what it was like, how days could pass both too quickly and too slowly without Astoria.

She wanted to bottle up everything that she was feeling and lock it away, perhaps on a shelf in a closet somewhere that was too high and out of reach. Or maybe drown it at the bottom of the lake. She wanted her feelings to be anywhere except inside of herself, where they were stuck, trapped and glued to her bones. Scorpius seemed like an expert on grieving – and with good reason. He’d lost his mother, too soon, and grown up knowing the realities of loss more closely than any child ever should. Still, it felt strange opening up to him. His father was her mentor – his best friend was her cousin. And yet… it was oddly comforting to know that he didn’t shy away, especially from such a difficult conversation. “It’s easier said than done,” she contended, though she figured that Scorpius already knew as much. When he asked if she’d slept, she actually needed a moment to pause and to think. “I slept for a few hours – why? Do I look that dreadful?” She couldn’t help but wonder if a glamour charm would cover up the bags under her eyes, or if they were too dark for even that.  “I don’t want to forget her, and it isn’t like I think I will. But I want this –” Victoire gestured vaguely, as if to imply everything around her. “I want this to go away. Everyone walking on eggshells, saying that they’re sorry for our loss, feeling like I’ve swallowed stones and have nothing right to say.” She’d said too much. Victoire pressed her lips together, allowing the heavy moment of silence to hang there between them for just a moment longer. “I’m sorry.”

Hearing the words easier said than done wasn’t unfamiliar to Scorpius. He was pretty sure he’d said something similar at least once or twice in the past, when he was still grieving and unmistakably angry that there had been no way to fight it off. “Yes,” he agreed. “Which is why I’m not in any way telling you how to handle it.” That at least needed to be clear. When Victoire asked if she looked dreadful, Scorpius immediately shook his head. “No, just that you seemed a little distant when I walked up. Like your mind was elsewhere, which is understandable. Did you get anything to eat today yet?” He’d get it if she had no appetite, but a person could only run on empty for so long if she hadn’t.

It had taken more than a moment for her to realize that the boy who’d come to talk with her was Scorpius, himself. There were more than enough people at the memorial that she didn’t quite know – people who knew Hermione from school, people who knew her from the Ministry, people who’d been brought along so that nobody would have to show up all on their own. She’d assumed that whoever stopped to respond to her was one of those people… surely her own family and those closest to her aunt would still be inside the Great Hall. 

But, no. It was Scorpius, her mentor’s son, her cousin’s best friend. And suddenly, she felt guilty for taking a moment for herself, knowing that Al and the others were in there, fending for themselves amongst the crowd of people offering their condolences. “I – yes, I suppose you’re right.” She moved to the side, patting the seat next to her for Scorpius to take. “You don’t have to go. It might be nice, having some company. – Unless you think Al might want a friend?” She bit her cheek, unsure if she should ask the questions that were really going through her mind. “How long does it take? For all of this to… to go away?”

Scorpius wasn’t shy, but there was an element of consciousness in how he spoke to Victoire nonetheless. It was one of those days where compassion needed to come first, and that meant he needed to think his words through before he said them. Around Al or others on a normal day, he could be unfiltered, but not today.

When Victoire patted the bench next to her, Scorpius smiled a little, hands in his pockets, and took the invite, settled in place. “Al’s going to need some time to process everything, I think,” he said. “You’ll all need that. It isn’t going to happen in one day, maybe not for a long while, so be gentle with yourself in the meantime.” Grey eyes focused on Victoire then, took her in. “Please don’t take this as insulting, but did you get any sleep last night?” Pausing, he explained, “I found it hard too. My brain never wanted to shut off.”

Albus knew that was what he was doing probably wasn’t considered healthy or even remotely fine. He was okay with that knowledge, though. His family was a lot and they always had a lot of feelings, whether that was about Christmas presents, school grades or quidditch results. Now that something incredibly sad had happened, that was what all of them were rightfully feeling. There were tears and stories and Albus sat and listened. He wasn’t sad, though. He was angry. But that didn’t at all feel like the right response, so he attempted to ignore it and be there for others, which seemed way more useful.

There were very little people that knew him better than that. His mother, Albus thought, could always see right through him (sometimes annoyingly so, but he was always glad about it in the end). For a while, there’d been no one else. Then he met Scorpius, who he’d grown very close with, who he moved in together with after graduation and who he could guess every movement and every word of sometimes. He knew Scorpius, and somewhat surprisingly, Scorpius knew him too. With that knowledge it was a little less surprising to see Scorpius approach him the moment he was left alone by yet another few people he didn’t know the names of but insisted on telling him how sorry they were and that his aunt had been such a wonderful person.  When Scorpius approached, all Albus could really do was follow him to one of the corners so they could talk as privately as possible in the Great Hall. The observations made him uncomfortable immediately, because Scorpius was right and that gave him the creeps. “You’re scary, Scor,” were therefore the first two words out of his mouth. “You talk like my mom, but you’re not her.” He considered the words briefly, then continued. “It’s not a bad thing, by the way. I adore my mom.” So not cool to say, but still true. “But. Ehm. I want to deal with this on my own time and in my own way and not in a setting with people watching. I feel like they’re waiting for me to cry or something. Well, they’re in for a long wait.” However, Albus hadn’t forgotten that he’d attended a funeral before, either. It may not have been as busy as this one, and the importance to society the woman that they’d have to bury had been nothing like this. But none of those things mattered when someone was close to you. “How are you doing?” he queried, eyebrows frowning as he took the other in. “Thank you for coming. I know this can’t have been easy for you either.”

The minute that Al came out with you’re scary, things were somewhat normal for a moment and Scorpius raised an eyebrow. “Not the first time you’ve told me so, so I’m going to choose not to be offended by that,” he said, lifted one corner of his lips just a little in something resembling a smile. “I will take the compliment of being compared to your mom, though. That’s not a bad thing any day of the week.” Being compared to someone so important to Al? He was hardly going to argue that. “How is she holding up?”

His expression changed to something more serious as he listened to what Al had to say, and that was something he got as well. “I think that people should keep their expectations to themselves,” he said, visibly annoyed by the very thought of anyone putting what they thought to be appropriate on Al. “How you react today is up to you. Screw what anyone else thinks, there’s no right way to do this.”

Hand still on Al’s arm, Scorpius smoothed his fingers there gently before retracting the touch. “Anything you need me to sort out so you don’t have to think about it? I could get groceries in and stuff for home.” Practical things, it was true, but dealing with those could just be an extra burden on top of everything else, especially under circumstances like the present. “I’m going to have dinner with Dad, but I’ll be back later on, so you’ll get a few hours of breathing room. Could do breakfast tomorrow if you like?” The results had been mixed in the past, it was true, but Scorpius’ cooking skills had improved over time.

@ofscorpiusmalfcy / a closed starter.

The loss of Hermione Granger was a big blow to the magical community. Draco had never liked her, didn’t like her as Minister for Magic, but he knew that a lot of people valued her and put their faith in her and he respected that too. He showed up, paid his respects, made conversation and drunk the booze, which was a funeral in a nutshell for him.  However, the funeral of a mother and a wife meant something else entirely to Draco now. Granger left a husband and two children, albeit grown-up, behind and the injustice of it rankled sharply. He knew one person would be feeling precisely that, so that was who he headed over to the moment that he spotted him. “Hi you,“ he greeted his son dryly and with a small smile on his face that disappeared the moment he looked away and into the Great Hall again. This was the closes to fond that Draco ever got in public. “Are you still coming over for dinner this evening? I’m making pasta. Not sure what yet, so if you’ve got a preference let me know.“ That was his way of letting Scorpius know that he was thinking of him and wanted to spend time with him, but Draco felt he had to do better. For that, he carried on. “I don’t know if it’s just me, and if it is you should tell me, but this occasion brings up some memories I’d really rather not relive. What about you?“

On the one hand, wizarding Britain as a whole was feeling the effects and reeling from the loss of its Minister for Magic. It created the kind of fear that came from the remnants of wars he’d never lived through. On the other, the loss ran far deeper and was much more personal for the handful of those who had really known Hermione Granger. Watching it was hard. Watching the pain of people Scorpius knew, people he cared about in some instances, and knowing that there was nothing he could do except be there while they felt and processed it. He was worried about Albus. On top of all of that, though, there was the persistent thought of how much this reminded him of his mother’s funeral; different though the circumstances were, a mother had still been taken from her children long before her time.

As though he knew exactly when Scorpius needed him (often the case), his father approached then, and Scorpius’ gaze scanned the older man’s face. The gratitude probably showed, because he’d been getting lost in his head, and his father more often than not had been his anchor. “Hi Dad,” he said, exhaled a sigh, because right there was the acknowledgement that life went on. It had to. The corners of his lips curled up just a little bit. “Pasta anything is always good, you know that,” he said, tone clearly appreciative. “Cheese sauce?” That was comfort food for certain, but it was the assurance that he would always be welcome behind the words that was more comforting still. “Do I need to bring anything with me?”

There were no words for how Victoire was feeling. Her entire body ached from staying in bed far too long without sleep – her head felt light and airy, overworked from the endless thoughts that kept circling back to haunt her. How could this have happened to Hermione, of all people? The brilliant, ever-diligent, ever-impressive witch that she was beyond lucky to call her aunt? Victoire sat down on one of the benches, outside on the Hogwarts grounds. She pressed her lips together tightly, scared of what she might say if she dared to open her mouth. Her silence lasted only a moment.

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?”

   When Scorpius went outside for some air, it occurred to him that standing in the Great Hall had never felt quite so heavy to him. Maybe it was the people, or maybe it was the castle itself. He’d been sat or stood under that vaulted ceiling so many times that he’d lost count, watching the sky change beneath the touch of old magic. There was a different weight to it today, as though the castle knew what had been lost too. It was a thought that made his chest draw tight, so outside where there was open space felt like the better option. It was there, out on the benches that lined the courtyard and the grounds, that he found Victoire. Victoire, who had been older than him, but who he knew nonetheless, and who had lost her aunt, the same as Al.

Scorpius had enough experience with funerals to know that they made emotions run high. It meant that he’d been more cautious than usual, careful of who he approached and how he did it. There was a sense that he didn’t belong here, not really, because he hadn’t known Minister for Magic Hermione Granger at all well. At least half of the reason that Scorpius was here was because his best friend had just lost the aunt that he’d grown up with, and that was a different thing altogether. It was something that he did understand, far better than he’d ever wanted to.

Most of Scorpius’ exposure to Hermione had happened not in her capacity as Minister, but as his friend’s aunt who he saw sometimes when he was over at Al’s house. It felt incredibly wrong to be confronted with the fact that she’d been taken far too soon.

No one should be alone on a day like today, as far as Scorpius saw it. There was a difference between needing space to collect your thoughts, completely understandable, and just not having anyone there who got how you were feeling. He’d always had someone there when things were hardest, and he recognised how incredibly lucky he was.

Scorpius had attended funerals in the past that changed his life, because they meant that someone beloved was gone forever. There was no way to soften how that felt. It meant that in this moment, he was focused on the people around him, because he hadn’t known Hermione Granger well. She’d been a presence around since he was a teenager hanging out with Al, someone he saw now and then. To the wizarding world, she’d been their chosen Minister for Magic, a force for change, lawful good in a world that had needed balance. But to many of the people in the Great Hall, she’d been much more than that. A friend, a wife, a mother, someone who had been there for most of their lives. It was impossible to consider that someone had wanted her dead and had actually achieved that goal. More than that, though, Scorpius remembered all too well what it was like to lose someone he loved. Observing others struggling with the same meant that he was careful about his approach.

With an uncharacteristically serious expression, Scorpius’ gaze moved across those gathered there, spotted Al talking to yet another person. Al was the kind of person who made sure that others were okay, but he could also end up doing it at his own expense without ever letting it show what it cost him. That was what worried Scorpius for his best friend in that moment, and it meant that he bided his time and waited it out until the conversation ended. Crossing the Hall to reach the other man, Scorpius nudged Albus until they’d moved aside from the main part of the hall, less likely to draw attention in one of the far corners. “You’ve spent every second since before the memorial checking up on everyone else,” he said softly. “Have you taken any time for you, Al?”

CHARACTER LABEL: The Hurricane

CHARACTER BIRTHDAY: March 19th, 2006

FORMER HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin

FACECLAIM: Colin Ford

According to Ministry records, [SCORPIUS MALFOY, 22, PURE-BLOOD, CIS MALE] has been considered innocent in the assassination of former Minister of Magic, Hermione Granger, and no further interrogation or a formal trial is necessary at this time. [HE/HIM] is free to return to his job as a [POTIONEER]. During his interrogation, he was found to be [PERCEPTIVE] and [ENERGETIC], but also could be [CHAOTIC] and [SHARP-TONGUED]. >>> [claire, 32, GMT, she/her]

Hi all, I’m Claire. This is my first time playing Scorpius and I’m very excited to get stuck in. I’ve got some headcanon and a bit of a summary of his life to date under the cut just to introduce him to you if you’re interested. Plots, chats and everything between are most welcome!