Drawing It Out (Fic, No Challenge)
Title: Drawing It Out (Part One)
Pairing(s): Al/Scorpius; Al/OFC
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: homosexuality, bisexuality, a lot of Neville, and a lot of plants ;)
Summary: When Al and Scorpius get paired together for the Herbology term project, neither is very pleased. The Combibo Combula is known for drawing out the poison from a wizard in need, but the boys’ research finds it capable of much more. Their findings could leave them famous - but things never go smoothly when you mix a Potter and Malfoy. It’s no secret that Scorpius swings “that way”, but when he starts getting the warm fuzzies over Al Potter, something’s got to give. You see, Al’s straight. Or at least, that’s what his girlfriend says.
Word Count: 2,705/30 = 90.16 = 91 pts for Gryffindor
"-and then the wizard shouted a spell, and the dragon flew away in a rage. Knowing he had limited time before the dragon returned, the wizard hurried into the tower. He blasted away the wall, not having time to reach the door, and brandishing his wand -."
"Dad?" Benny reached up and shut the book. "I'm tired. I don't want to finish the story."
Feeling himself flush, Neville put the book on the floor and nudged it under the bed with his foot. "Are you sure, Benny? We can read something else -"
"I'm just tired." Benny rolled over, his back to Neville.
With a heavy sigh, Neville reached over and turned off the lamp - an electric one - and then rested his hand on his small son's shoulder.
"I love you, Benny," he said solemnly, "no matter who or what you are."
Benny didn't answer, instead lying as still as possible. Grimacing, Neville pushed to his feet and headed out into the dimly lit hallway, closing his son's door behind him.
"Not the best choice of story, perhaps," Hannah said quietly from where she'd been listening.
Neville looked on the floor. "I don't always have the best judgment," he admitted.
Hannah smiled and placed a cool palm on his cheek. "We'll get through this," she said. "All of us, even Benny. You're doing a wonderful job, bedtime stories aside. Benny knows we love him - with or without magic."
Neville looked at his son's closed door and felt the guilt course through him as he imagined what the small boy had felt hearing a story about a wizard running headlong into danger, wand at the ready, when this was something he could never do. Just as grace escaped Neville, and sometimes numbers escaped his slender wife, magic escaped their son, running just far enough under his skin that it couldn't be pulled to the surface, couldn't be called upon. Ever.
*****
Scorpius Malfoy had been "disowned" exactly three times in his first sixteen years of life.
The first time was when he was six and announced at breakfast that he and his best friend Trevor Birch were getting married that day during Free Play at Little Wizards Primary School and that they, his parents, were cordially invited. His mother had begun sobbing over her Eggs Benedict. Scorpius didn't remember her saying anything about disowning him, but he did remember his father picking him up and carrying him upstairs to the master bedroom and setting him down on the lush green comforter. Draco had gotten down on his knees and looked Scorpius in the eyes.
"Your mother didn't mean what she said," he said solemnly. "You will always be our son and we will both always love you. Do you understand?"
When Scorpius had nodded, Draco had stood again and brushed off his trousers. "Now then," he continued, "what should I wear to the big event?"
The second time was when Scorpius was eleven years old and he got sorted into Gryffindor. He'd held it together until everyone had gone to bed and he'd Floo Called his parents and completely lost it.
"A Gryffindor?" Astoria had sneered. "No son of mine will walk around in red and gold. I suppose you'll start breaking rules and charging off to fight dragons now."
When Draco took his turn at the fire, he found his son to be a sobbing, hiccupping mess.
"I don't want to be a foolish Gryffindor! I don't want adventures and danger. I don't like rushing into things. I'm not hot-headed. Please, Dad, tell them the hat was wrong," Scorpius had begged through his tears.
Draco had been silent for a moment. "It would be a lie to say I hadn't expected and hoped you'd be a Slytherin," he admitted. "But this isn't the end of the world. At least it wasn't Hufflepuff, right?"
Scorpius had sobbed harder.
"Listen to me, Son," Draco said firmly. "Being foolish and being Gryffindor are only synonymous if you're a Potter. You may not be a fool, but you're chivalrous. You have a strong sense of right and wrong. You're stubborn. You're passionate. You are unapologetic about who and what you are. Being a Gryffindor is something you can be proud of. You're brave, Scorpius, and I do not underestimate that in you. You shouldn't either."
Scorpius sniffled. "But Mum is right," he bemoaned. "I look positively horrid in red."
"We'll take your uniform and have the shade altered," Draco mused, eyeing his son's complexion. "A nice burgundy might suit you."
The third and final (so far) time was when Scorpius was fifteen and he'd told the divorce attorney that he absolutely preferred to be in his father's custody. After the meeting as Astoria had stalked towards the fireplace to Floo home to her new penthouse, stilettos clicking against the cold tile floor, Scorpius had reached for her.
"Mum," he said, feeling his blood run cold.
"I am no one's mum," she said without looking at him. "I have no son."
This time, Draco had no words of wisdom. He only wrapped his arms around his son and for once didn't reprimand him for crying in public.
*****
Like his father, Al Potter preferred to be at Hogwarts over his home. At home being one of the oldest but not quite the oldest was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing in that he could more or less do as he pleased without it being noticed. It was a curse for the same reason - his achievements flew under the radar along with his vices. Plus, there was all the unpaid babysitting he had to do.
Ever since James, eighteen now, had left for Wizarding Uni in London, Al and Lily were left in charge. Lily was fourteen now, the twins Remy and Nicole were twelve, and the baby, Olivia, was nine. Al played Mum to the little ones so often that for a laugh Lily had bought him an apron for Christmas last year.
But school - school was a different world. At school we wasn't "Mum", he was Al Potter: Slytherin Seeker, star dueler, and boyfriend of the hottest witch Hogwarts had ever seen - Katherine Gates, Ravenclaw.
Al Potter believed a lot of things. He believed that the less you said, the better. He believed in sex on the first date, that muggle alcohol was far superior to its wizarding counterparts, that Lucy DeMayo's tits were about as real as turtlebears, and that a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich could cure all ills. He believed that sleeping in was a waste of time, that the stars held secrets, that all girls were evil at their core, and that someday, the world over would know his name - and not in conjugation with his father's.
*****
It all started in Herbology. Professor Longbottom lined the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins against one wall of the Greenhouse. On the work tables in the center were several large potted plants.
"Two people per plant," he explained, his excitement almost tangible. "You'll research the plant - its properties (both physical and magical), its uses, anything you can find. You must also keep the plant alive. At the end of the term you will present your findings. I will grade you as a team based on what you've discovered, the quality of your presentation, and on your plant's health."
"So basically," one of the Slytherins called out, "we have to keep the plant alive and research it."
The whole room heard what was unsaid - this was too easy.
"Sure," Professor Longbottom shrugged. "Keeping the plant alive and giving a basic presentation of its common uses and whatnot will give you a passing grade."
"If that's just passing," Scorpius found himself asking, "then how do you receive top marks?"
Professor Longbottom bounced just a little - Scorpius was sure of it. "Aha," he said gleefully, "that's the question, isn't it? Here's the catch - at the end of the term, the three most stellar, ground-breaking presentations will take a trip to Durmstang to compete against their students in the Uncommon Herbology Competition."
"The uck?" Al Potter asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No," Professor Longbottom said sternly. "The U.H.C."
"It sounds like uck."
"See me after class, Mr. Potter. Now, in this hat there are many slips of parchment. They each hold a number between one and twenty. There are two of each number. These numbers will decide your plant and your partner. Please send the hat along the line. No trading numbers."
A groan went around the class as the cap was passed along. Scorpius fished around and plucked a parchment, and passed it on.
4.
Four. With a sigh, he headed to the fourth plant and waited for his partner to be decided. While he waited, he glanced down at the name of the plant - Combibo combula.
'Sounds fantastic,' he thought, and didn't notice who stalked forward to drop their books a mere centimeter from his own hand until it happened.
"Ouch," he said, even though the books hadn't hit him, and looked up to find Al Potter's furious green eyes staring at him from a foot away.
"Uh," Scorpius managed, "you for four, too?"
"I," Al said, still furious, "hate Herbology. And now Uncle Nev is going to Floo my Mum and tell her I've been mouthing off again and I'm going to get a fucking Howler tomorrow. Yes, I got four. What's your name again?"
Scorpius blinked. "Uncle Nev?" he asked, baffled.
Potter waved a hand at him dismissively. "Your name isn't Uncle Nev, you tit. Isn't it something to do with the zodiac? Capricornus? Hercules?"
"Hercules isn't in the zodiac…" Scorpius said uncertainly.
"Leo!" Al snapped his fingers. "It's Leo, isn't it? Leo…" he snapped his fingers again, as if that would magically bring Scorpius's surname to mind.
"Malfoy," Scorpius said finally. "And it's Scorpius, not Leo. I'm much less hot-headed."
"Right, right," Al nodded, staring blankly at the plant. "Scorpius Malfoy. I think I remember dad saying - never mind. Anyway, I'm Albus Potter, but I prefer Al."
"I know," Scorpius said absently, and then flushed. They both looked away awkwardly until Al cleared his throat.
"So," he said, shuffling his feet a little. "Combibo Combula. You know anything about it?"
The plant looked similar to a small holly tree - the leaves and berries were arranged similarly. However, the stem was a deep purple, the leaves were a light pink, and the berries were a deep green.
"No," Scorpius said, fingering one of the leaves gently. "Should we check in the text for starters?"
"Yeah," Al said, nodding, "let's do that."
Scorpius flipped his textbook open to the index. "Combibo…. Combula… page… three forty-two." He began flipping pages until he found the correct one.
"Here we go," he said, and pointed at the words, following with his index finger as he read aloud, "'The Combibo Combula is a Brazilian mini-tree which sports green berries.'"
"Because we couldn't have figured that out," Al rolled his eyes.
Scorpius continued. "'The berries act the same as Bezoars, and can heal most known poisons instantly upon ingestion. The leaves can be ground and made into a tea or paste, both of which are used for healing purposes.' Okay, so it's a healing plant. That's easy."
"Cheers, we done for now then?" Al asked, glancing at his watch. Everyone was packing up as class was nearing its end.
"For now," Scorpius said slowly, closing his text. "But we're going to need to do a lot more research. Should we meet in the library tonight and see what we can find?"
Al rolled his eyes and Scorpius felt his blood boil. "Tomorrow, maybe?" Al suggested. "I mean, how much more do we really need to find out? We know what each part of it is!"
Scorpius scowled. "Fine," he said. "Tomorrow." But in his mind he was already listing the things they'd need to know - what made the plant thrive, what other uses it had, who had discovered it and how it had been used through history - and that was only the tip of the iceberg.
*****
Al flopped onto a couch in the Slytherin common room. Katherine, whom he had told the dungeon's password despite that she was a Ravenclaw, looked up from another couch.
"Rough morning?" she asked, getting up and coming over to perch on the edge of the couch.
"Yes," Al grumbled. "I'm in trouble with Nev, and this Herbology project is way too intense."
"Herbology? Intense?" Katherine raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Don't you usually just… do enough to get by with subjects like that? The ones that don't matter?"
"Yeah, usually," Al said darkly. "But this is a partner thing and I've been paired with that berk Malfoy, and he's dead-set on winning -"
"Winning what?" Katherine asked, pushing the hair off of Al's forehead affectionately.
Al swatted her hand away agitatedly. "Whoever has the most ground-breaking presentation presents it at the U.H.C. in Durmstrang. So he's being all serious business about it. He even asked to meet in the library tonight to research."
Katherine frowned. "Wow. That's… unusual for a Gryffindor. They're usually much more laid-back about schoolwork. Why d'you reckon he cares so much?"
Al shrugged. "Because he's a boring bloke, I suppose. Dad and Uncle Ron have never said anything good about the Malfoys. Probably trying to bring honor back to the family or some shit like that."
"Hmm," Katherine mused. "Maybe you should humor him? Like, get a lot of research done early and he'll be pleased and leave you alone after that?"
"I don't even know how to begin researching something," Al grumbled looking up at the ceiling.
"Well," Katherine said, "you could ask Professor Longbottom. And apologize, while you're at it. Maybe he won't owl your Mum?"
****
Scorpius closed and locked his dormitory door behind him. Making sure his roommate wasn't there, he kneeled down and pulled a small box out from under his bed. It was a rich mahogany, and the top was lined with emeralds and jade in various shapes and sizes. He whispered the spell to open it and pulled out a stack of papers. He rifled through them until he found the one he wanted.
Rolling into his belly, he spread the newspaper clipping out on the floor.
'The Uncommon Herbology Department Gives Bloom to New Leadership', the article blazed, and below it was a picture of his mother, smiling tightly at the camera, her hair pulled back into a slick, professional ponytail.
He put a finger to her face and watched as she smiled and blinked again - again- again. Finally he folded the article back up and slid the box back under his bed. He stood and gathered some parchment and a few quills and headed straight down to the library.
It was almost closing time and the lights were dimming as a warning, but Scorpius didn't care. He'd stay all night if he had to. The library was deserted, so he set his things down and began perusing the shelves for a title which might help him. As he wandered down the aisle, he became aware of a scritching noise coming from around the corner. He peered through the bookshelf and he could make out a figure hunched over an open book and a piece of parchment, but he couldn't see any details.
He rounded the corner casually, as if he just happened to be wandering along that way and had no idea someone was sitting there, and was shocked into stillness.
"Potter?" he asked, and Al looked up sharply, almost guiltily.
"Oh," he sighed, relaxing. "It's you. Hullo."
"What are you doing?" Scorpius asked, noticing that Al had several books piled around him.
"Researching our plant," Al said. "What does it look like?"
"I thought you didn't care?" Scorpius challenged.
Al shrugged. "The sooner we get our data, the sooner I can stop thinking about it."
Scorpius closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Well," he said, before sitting in the chair next to Al and opening a book, "at least you're helping."
Pairing(s): Al/Scorpius; Al/OFC
Rating: Pg-13
Warnings: homosexuality, bisexuality, a lot of Neville, and a lot of plants ;)
Summary: When Al and Scorpius get paired together for the Herbology term project, neither is very pleased. The Combibo Combula is known for drawing out the poison from a wizard in need, but the boys’ research finds it capable of much more. Their findings could leave them famous - but things never go smoothly when you mix a Potter and Malfoy. It’s no secret that Scorpius swings “that way”, but when he starts getting the warm fuzzies over Al Potter, something’s got to give. You see, Al’s straight. Or at least, that’s what his girlfriend says.
Word Count: 2,705/30 = 90.16 = 91 pts for Gryffindor
"-and then the wizard shouted a spell, and the dragon flew away in a rage. Knowing he had limited time before the dragon returned, the wizard hurried into the tower. He blasted away the wall, not having time to reach the door, and brandishing his wand -."
"Dad?" Benny reached up and shut the book. "I'm tired. I don't want to finish the story."
Feeling himself flush, Neville put the book on the floor and nudged it under the bed with his foot. "Are you sure, Benny? We can read something else -"
"I'm just tired." Benny rolled over, his back to Neville.
With a heavy sigh, Neville reached over and turned off the lamp - an electric one - and then rested his hand on his small son's shoulder.
"I love you, Benny," he said solemnly, "no matter who or what you are."
Benny didn't answer, instead lying as still as possible. Grimacing, Neville pushed to his feet and headed out into the dimly lit hallway, closing his son's door behind him.
"Not the best choice of story, perhaps," Hannah said quietly from where she'd been listening.
Neville looked on the floor. "I don't always have the best judgment," he admitted.
Hannah smiled and placed a cool palm on his cheek. "We'll get through this," she said. "All of us, even Benny. You're doing a wonderful job, bedtime stories aside. Benny knows we love him - with or without magic."
Neville looked at his son's closed door and felt the guilt course through him as he imagined what the small boy had felt hearing a story about a wizard running headlong into danger, wand at the ready, when this was something he could never do. Just as grace escaped Neville, and sometimes numbers escaped his slender wife, magic escaped their son, running just far enough under his skin that it couldn't be pulled to the surface, couldn't be called upon. Ever.
*****
Scorpius Malfoy had been "disowned" exactly three times in his first sixteen years of life.
The first time was when he was six and announced at breakfast that he and his best friend Trevor Birch were getting married that day during Free Play at Little Wizards Primary School and that they, his parents, were cordially invited. His mother had begun sobbing over her Eggs Benedict. Scorpius didn't remember her saying anything about disowning him, but he did remember his father picking him up and carrying him upstairs to the master bedroom and setting him down on the lush green comforter. Draco had gotten down on his knees and looked Scorpius in the eyes.
"Your mother didn't mean what she said," he said solemnly. "You will always be our son and we will both always love you. Do you understand?"
When Scorpius had nodded, Draco had stood again and brushed off his trousers. "Now then," he continued, "what should I wear to the big event?"
The second time was when Scorpius was eleven years old and he got sorted into Gryffindor. He'd held it together until everyone had gone to bed and he'd Floo Called his parents and completely lost it.
"A Gryffindor?" Astoria had sneered. "No son of mine will walk around in red and gold. I suppose you'll start breaking rules and charging off to fight dragons now."
When Draco took his turn at the fire, he found his son to be a sobbing, hiccupping mess.
"I don't want to be a foolish Gryffindor! I don't want adventures and danger. I don't like rushing into things. I'm not hot-headed. Please, Dad, tell them the hat was wrong," Scorpius had begged through his tears.
Draco had been silent for a moment. "It would be a lie to say I hadn't expected and hoped you'd be a Slytherin," he admitted. "But this isn't the end of the world. At least it wasn't Hufflepuff, right?"
Scorpius had sobbed harder.
"Listen to me, Son," Draco said firmly. "Being foolish and being Gryffindor are only synonymous if you're a Potter. You may not be a fool, but you're chivalrous. You have a strong sense of right and wrong. You're stubborn. You're passionate. You are unapologetic about who and what you are. Being a Gryffindor is something you can be proud of. You're brave, Scorpius, and I do not underestimate that in you. You shouldn't either."
Scorpius sniffled. "But Mum is right," he bemoaned. "I look positively horrid in red."
"We'll take your uniform and have the shade altered," Draco mused, eyeing his son's complexion. "A nice burgundy might suit you."
The third and final (so far) time was when Scorpius was fifteen and he'd told the divorce attorney that he absolutely preferred to be in his father's custody. After the meeting as Astoria had stalked towards the fireplace to Floo home to her new penthouse, stilettos clicking against the cold tile floor, Scorpius had reached for her.
"Mum," he said, feeling his blood run cold.
"I am no one's mum," she said without looking at him. "I have no son."
This time, Draco had no words of wisdom. He only wrapped his arms around his son and for once didn't reprimand him for crying in public.
*****
Like his father, Al Potter preferred to be at Hogwarts over his home. At home being one of the oldest but not quite the oldest was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing in that he could more or less do as he pleased without it being noticed. It was a curse for the same reason - his achievements flew under the radar along with his vices. Plus, there was all the unpaid babysitting he had to do.
Ever since James, eighteen now, had left for Wizarding Uni in London, Al and Lily were left in charge. Lily was fourteen now, the twins Remy and Nicole were twelve, and the baby, Olivia, was nine. Al played Mum to the little ones so often that for a laugh Lily had bought him an apron for Christmas last year.
But school - school was a different world. At school we wasn't "Mum", he was Al Potter: Slytherin Seeker, star dueler, and boyfriend of the hottest witch Hogwarts had ever seen - Katherine Gates, Ravenclaw.
Al Potter believed a lot of things. He believed that the less you said, the better. He believed in sex on the first date, that muggle alcohol was far superior to its wizarding counterparts, that Lucy DeMayo's tits were about as real as turtlebears, and that a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich could cure all ills. He believed that sleeping in was a waste of time, that the stars held secrets, that all girls were evil at their core, and that someday, the world over would know his name - and not in conjugation with his father's.
*****
It all started in Herbology. Professor Longbottom lined the sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins against one wall of the Greenhouse. On the work tables in the center were several large potted plants.
"Two people per plant," he explained, his excitement almost tangible. "You'll research the plant - its properties (both physical and magical), its uses, anything you can find. You must also keep the plant alive. At the end of the term you will present your findings. I will grade you as a team based on what you've discovered, the quality of your presentation, and on your plant's health."
"So basically," one of the Slytherins called out, "we have to keep the plant alive and research it."
The whole room heard what was unsaid - this was too easy.
"Sure," Professor Longbottom shrugged. "Keeping the plant alive and giving a basic presentation of its common uses and whatnot will give you a passing grade."
"If that's just passing," Scorpius found himself asking, "then how do you receive top marks?"
Professor Longbottom bounced just a little - Scorpius was sure of it. "Aha," he said gleefully, "that's the question, isn't it? Here's the catch - at the end of the term, the three most stellar, ground-breaking presentations will take a trip to Durmstang to compete against their students in the Uncommon Herbology Competition."
"The uck?" Al Potter asked, one eyebrow raised.
"No," Professor Longbottom said sternly. "The U.H.C."
"It sounds like uck."
"See me after class, Mr. Potter. Now, in this hat there are many slips of parchment. They each hold a number between one and twenty. There are two of each number. These numbers will decide your plant and your partner. Please send the hat along the line. No trading numbers."
A groan went around the class as the cap was passed along. Scorpius fished around and plucked a parchment, and passed it on.
4.
Four. With a sigh, he headed to the fourth plant and waited for his partner to be decided. While he waited, he glanced down at the name of the plant - Combibo combula.
'Sounds fantastic,' he thought, and didn't notice who stalked forward to drop their books a mere centimeter from his own hand until it happened.
"Ouch," he said, even though the books hadn't hit him, and looked up to find Al Potter's furious green eyes staring at him from a foot away.
"Uh," Scorpius managed, "you for four, too?"
"I," Al said, still furious, "hate Herbology. And now Uncle Nev is going to Floo my Mum and tell her I've been mouthing off again and I'm going to get a fucking Howler tomorrow. Yes, I got four. What's your name again?"
Scorpius blinked. "Uncle Nev?" he asked, baffled.
Potter waved a hand at him dismissively. "Your name isn't Uncle Nev, you tit. Isn't it something to do with the zodiac? Capricornus? Hercules?"
"Hercules isn't in the zodiac…" Scorpius said uncertainly.
"Leo!" Al snapped his fingers. "It's Leo, isn't it? Leo…" he snapped his fingers again, as if that would magically bring Scorpius's surname to mind.
"Malfoy," Scorpius said finally. "And it's Scorpius, not Leo. I'm much less hot-headed."
"Right, right," Al nodded, staring blankly at the plant. "Scorpius Malfoy. I think I remember dad saying - never mind. Anyway, I'm Albus Potter, but I prefer Al."
"I know," Scorpius said absently, and then flushed. They both looked away awkwardly until Al cleared his throat.
"So," he said, shuffling his feet a little. "Combibo Combula. You know anything about it?"
The plant looked similar to a small holly tree - the leaves and berries were arranged similarly. However, the stem was a deep purple, the leaves were a light pink, and the berries were a deep green.
"No," Scorpius said, fingering one of the leaves gently. "Should we check in the text for starters?"
"Yeah," Al said, nodding, "let's do that."
Scorpius flipped his textbook open to the index. "Combibo…. Combula… page… three forty-two." He began flipping pages until he found the correct one.
"Here we go," he said, and pointed at the words, following with his index finger as he read aloud, "'The Combibo Combula is a Brazilian mini-tree which sports green berries.'"
"Because we couldn't have figured that out," Al rolled his eyes.
Scorpius continued. "'The berries act the same as Bezoars, and can heal most known poisons instantly upon ingestion. The leaves can be ground and made into a tea or paste, both of which are used for healing purposes.' Okay, so it's a healing plant. That's easy."
"Cheers, we done for now then?" Al asked, glancing at his watch. Everyone was packing up as class was nearing its end.
"For now," Scorpius said slowly, closing his text. "But we're going to need to do a lot more research. Should we meet in the library tonight and see what we can find?"
Al rolled his eyes and Scorpius felt his blood boil. "Tomorrow, maybe?" Al suggested. "I mean, how much more do we really need to find out? We know what each part of it is!"
Scorpius scowled. "Fine," he said. "Tomorrow." But in his mind he was already listing the things they'd need to know - what made the plant thrive, what other uses it had, who had discovered it and how it had been used through history - and that was only the tip of the iceberg.
*****
Al flopped onto a couch in the Slytherin common room. Katherine, whom he had told the dungeon's password despite that she was a Ravenclaw, looked up from another couch.
"Rough morning?" she asked, getting up and coming over to perch on the edge of the couch.
"Yes," Al grumbled. "I'm in trouble with Nev, and this Herbology project is way too intense."
"Herbology? Intense?" Katherine raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Don't you usually just… do enough to get by with subjects like that? The ones that don't matter?"
"Yeah, usually," Al said darkly. "But this is a partner thing and I've been paired with that berk Malfoy, and he's dead-set on winning -"
"Winning what?" Katherine asked, pushing the hair off of Al's forehead affectionately.
Al swatted her hand away agitatedly. "Whoever has the most ground-breaking presentation presents it at the U.H.C. in Durmstrang. So he's being all serious business about it. He even asked to meet in the library tonight to research."
Katherine frowned. "Wow. That's… unusual for a Gryffindor. They're usually much more laid-back about schoolwork. Why d'you reckon he cares so much?"
Al shrugged. "Because he's a boring bloke, I suppose. Dad and Uncle Ron have never said anything good about the Malfoys. Probably trying to bring honor back to the family or some shit like that."
"Hmm," Katherine mused. "Maybe you should humor him? Like, get a lot of research done early and he'll be pleased and leave you alone after that?"
"I don't even know how to begin researching something," Al grumbled looking up at the ceiling.
"Well," Katherine said, "you could ask Professor Longbottom. And apologize, while you're at it. Maybe he won't owl your Mum?"
****
Scorpius closed and locked his dormitory door behind him. Making sure his roommate wasn't there, he kneeled down and pulled a small box out from under his bed. It was a rich mahogany, and the top was lined with emeralds and jade in various shapes and sizes. He whispered the spell to open it and pulled out a stack of papers. He rifled through them until he found the one he wanted.
Rolling into his belly, he spread the newspaper clipping out on the floor.
'The Uncommon Herbology Department Gives Bloom to New Leadership', the article blazed, and below it was a picture of his mother, smiling tightly at the camera, her hair pulled back into a slick, professional ponytail.
He put a finger to her face and watched as she smiled and blinked again - again- again. Finally he folded the article back up and slid the box back under his bed. He stood and gathered some parchment and a few quills and headed straight down to the library.
It was almost closing time and the lights were dimming as a warning, but Scorpius didn't care. He'd stay all night if he had to. The library was deserted, so he set his things down and began perusing the shelves for a title which might help him. As he wandered down the aisle, he became aware of a scritching noise coming from around the corner. He peered through the bookshelf and he could make out a figure hunched over an open book and a piece of parchment, but he couldn't see any details.
He rounded the corner casually, as if he just happened to be wandering along that way and had no idea someone was sitting there, and was shocked into stillness.
"Potter?" he asked, and Al looked up sharply, almost guiltily.
"Oh," he sighed, relaxing. "It's you. Hullo."
"What are you doing?" Scorpius asked, noticing that Al had several books piled around him.
"Researching our plant," Al said. "What does it look like?"
"I thought you didn't care?" Scorpius challenged.
Al shrugged. "The sooner we get our data, the sooner I can stop thinking about it."
Scorpius closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Well," he said, before sitting in the chair next to Al and opening a book, "at least you're helping."