(no subject)

[dreamcatchings]

It would have been an understatement to say that his mother was displeased when she heard the news as was evidenced by the howler currently going off directly above him, his mother's voice shrill and ringing across the hall, informing everyone within range, which had to be several thousand miles and possibly extended all the way to the realm beyond, that he had failed as a Malfoy, that he had tarnished the family name and so many other things that Scorpius wasn't even able to keep track of. Hands over his ears, face pale and expressionless, he did what he had been doing for most of his young life; he tuned out his mother's words, searching for the voice of his father, which was always lingering in the background somewhere, a sedate, calm voice spouting reason along with the occasional "Please do shut up," which lacked the significant amount of ire to betray any hint of his actual emotion. The screaming continued, but Scorpius didn't hear it, the words had become nothing but a blur of sound because he had found it, he had found his father's amid the din.

"My son. A Gryffindor." So slight and understated that it was easy to miss, but he had heard it. Four words. Four words that were quickly swallowed by threats of being disowned by the family.

As if he wasn't having enough problems currently. While his decision had been easy, made in that moment of looking out at Al and knowing somehow, someway that he needed to be where that boy was for reasons that he could not even begin to identify, the consequences of his actions had not been so simple to accept. In Slytherin, he would have been like a god, a legend, a Malfoy. There were procedures and standards in place. Of all the houses, Slytherin was the one that seemed to relay the most on the old ways and the traditions that had been passed on down the years despite all of the things that had happened. He would have been comfortable there. He would have fit in without even trying.

He was a Malfoy.

What would have made him a legend in one house made him an exile in the other. The other members of the house avoided him when they were nice and said things behind his back when they weren't. Even the colors were wrong on him. His complexion was too pale to wear gold and red, the colours washed him out and made him look dour. Green and silver would have looked so much better on him, but it didn't matter.

He looked across the table or across the room at night and saw Al and nothing mattered.

The screaming finally died, and Scorpius kept his head down, pushing at his food with his fork, not looking anywhere but at his plate because the other members of his house were hard enough to face without having just made them privy to his mother's fervent exclamations for fifteen minutes. Someone across the table cleared their throat, and Scorpius looked up to find Al looking at him, a pained expression on his face, equal parts discomfort and sympathy.

"Your mum doesn't sound pleased," he said.

Scorpius shrugged and tried not to grin broadly because of the fact that Albus Severus was looking at him, talking to him. It made all the problems seem less plain. In trying to talk, his words ran together, "Al Sev," he stopped, blushed slightly and then shook his head. "Sorry."

The other boy blinked at him, at the name he supposed. "Most people call me Al."

One pale eyebrow raised. "Someone's going to hand you your bum before the term's over."

Al shrugged. "So, um, what's it like?"

"What?"

"Not being a Slytherin."

Scorpius suddenly felt very much like his mother. "I'm a Gryffindor."

Al Sev frowned. "That's what I said."

"No, you didn't. If you think of me as not Slytherin instead of as Gryffindor, then what am I going to be?" he asked. "The hat put me here the same as it did you, Al Sev."

The boy across from him was looking at his food. "Sorry. So, um, what did you think of the Potions homework?" There was a quaver in Al Sev's voice as though he was staring into a void that was about to completely swallow him.

Folding his hands in front of him, Scorpius looked the other boy straight in his eyes. "Are you having problems? I can help you. My father always says I got his aptitude for Potions along with his looks."

"Oh, um," Al Sev paused as though thinking about all the things that he had ever heard about the Malfoys. And then his expression melted a little and Scorpius was sure that he was remembering the times they had spent together, though brief, when their fathers would meet occasionally. "That'd be brilliant, Scorp."

"Scorpius."

"Why can't you have a nickname?"

"I am a Malfoy." That settled that.