a/n: Egads. I'll just be glad if all my readers haven't grown old and died at this point.

x.x.x

Some Sort of Mix Up

x.x.x

Trois

x.x.x

"Lacewing flies," Scorpius read aloud to the three others, "leeches, powdered bicorn horn, knotgrass, fluxweed—"

From across the table, Rose snatched the book away, cutting his reading short. Her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed as she skimmed the pages on Polyjuice Potion. "A month!" she exclaimed. "This will take a month to brew."

"Twenty-one days," Scorpius corrected, his lips forming a slight pout. He'd been hoping for, at worst, maybe two weeks more in Gryffindor. "That's how long the lacewings have to stew. But it isn't—that long."

Rose frowned pensively. "How are we planning to get all of this? A few of these ingredients are rather rare."

Al nudged her and grinned. "Don't you remember Uncle Ron's story?" he said slyly.

The redhead curled her upper-lip distastefully. "You're starting to sound like James. And my father will be hearing from me about that," she murmured. She continued, louder, "I'd been hoping that perhaps we could find a more legal way to go about acquiring our ingredients, thank you very much."

Claire scoffed from her seat next to Scorpius. "Legal," she said. "That's so Gryffindor."

Scorpius coughed somewhat awkwardly into his hand, not quite sure whether or not he now fit into the category of "so Gryffindor."

"Yes, well," Rose said with a little shrug. "I am in Gryffindor. And I think we should do it legally."

Albus smirked. "Rosie," he said, "we're breaking about—how many rules did you say?—a hundred?—just by brewing the potion, not to mention the part about actually switching Houses. What difference does it make at this point if we nick a few ingredients?"

Rose huffed. "Well—we would be breaking fewer rules if we didn't steal ingredients, at least. It could be the difference between expulsion and detention every night for the rest of our Hogwarts careers."

"Come on, Rose," Scorpius goaded, running a hand through his bright blond hair. "Let's just do it. Didn't your parents or someone do the same thing?"

"That doesn't necessarily mean it will work for us," Rose argued. "Besides, they were an entire year older when they pulled that off."

"How did they pull it off, anyway?" he asked. "That could help us in formulating our own plan. And—what did they want with Polyjuice Potion, anyway?"

Scorpius felt Albus' green eyes on him. The black-haired boy grinned mischievously. Shifting his focus to Rose, he noticed a slight frown on her face.

"Hmm?" he said. "What is it?"

Albus opened his mouth, as if to share some great secret.

"Al," Rose cut in, "maybe you shouldn't. Maybe we shouldn't bring that up. It's just that"—she looked at Scorpius, now—"it had to do with your father and—and you probably wouldn't appreciate it very much."

"Well, go on then, tell me," Scorpius turned to Albus and demanded. Being eleven years old and male, he had taken Rose's words as a clear challenge, and Scorpius Malfoy never turned down a challenge. "I can handle it."

And Albus grinned and opened his mouth again.

x.x.x

Father,

I would simply like you to know that I am extremely disappointed in you. How could you have been gullible enough to believe that anyone carrying the surname Goyle would be reading by age twelve?

Fourteen, maybe.

Just remember that if you had sent Twinky when I requested, I would have never spoken to Albus Potter, and therefore would never have learned this from him. And you would have been saved a good deal of embarrassment.

I do hope you're reading this in private.

Your son,

Scorpius

p.s. Our indoor Quidditch pitch was used as a hiding place for Dark artifacts? What a waste.

x.x.x

Dear Dad,

Thank you, thank you, thank you for saving Vince Goyle's dad during the war and not throwing him into Azkaban since my last letter.

Love,

Al

p.s. Where's our indoor Quidditch pitch? Scorpius Malfoy's family has loads more fun.

x.x.x

"Are you ready?" Scorpius whispered before the start of Potions—Slytherin-Gryffindor mixed, ideal for promoting inter-House unity and conspiracy. "Not afraid, are you?"

"Of course I'm not afraid!" Rose spat indignantly. "I only think that we ought to have gone about this in a more ethical manner."

Scorpius frowned. "Ethical?" He wouldn't have expected Rose to have such a dirty mouth. Or perhaps his father's grumblings about "that mad ethical bastard Arthur Weasley" had some other meaning?

She gave him a condescending look and deigned to say no more.

"Hey, come on," he said in his best inspirational voice. "You haven't even got to do the really—umm—unethical bits. Claire will feign sick and ask to be excused to the infirmary, then you'll raise your hand and ask the professor to inspect our potion because you're worried we added something or other at the wrong time—"

"Newt's eyes," she interrupted, "and I hope you're aware that I'm not actually planning on adding them before the hellebore and ruining our draught for the sake of this crazy—"

Girls. So irritatingly conscientious. Well—Rose Weasley, anyway.

"Right, right," Scorpius continued, "so Patil will come along and check out our potion, meanwhile Claire will slip into the supply closet on her way out and pocket everything we need for—you know—and by the time we're done distracting the Professor, she'll be out of the classroom with everything we need."

Rose frowned. "But won't she be in trouble?"

"Not unless she's caught."

"But Professor Patil will find out if she never actually goes to the infirmary," Rose explained. "The pass—she's got to have it signed by Nurse Bones. And what if she does go to get it signed but gets in trouble for not actually being sick?"

Scorpius shrugged. "Claire said she'd figured something out. Actually, doesn't one of—umm—those blokes related to you have some sort of product that does that? Makes you sick to get out of class?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Uncle George. It's a double-ended candy that will make you vomit or make your nose bleed or whatever when you take half so that you can get out of class. Then you take the other half and you're all better. But Mum's real strict about all Uncle George's stuff—doesn't let me near most of it. Not as if I'd want to be, anyway."

"What about Al?"

"He probably could have got hold of some. Although honestly, I can't imagine Claire Zabini doing something as base as forcing herself to bleed or vomit."

Scorpius agreed.

"We really ought to have thought this through better," the redhead chastised.

"Thinking," he said with a scoff, and would have followed it up with, "That's so Gryffindor," if the words hadn't felt rather wrong in his mouth for a handful of reasons.

x.x.x

"Are you ready?" Al whispered as the Professor began to lecture.

"Are you joking?" Claire replied. "I've only got the fastest fingers in all of First Year."

Al snorted. "And such a way words, too."

She rolled her eyes as if Albus were the excessively alliterative one.

"We ought to have made Scorpius do that part, anyway," he continued. "He's the Gryffindor. For now, at least."

"Too slow," Claire disclosed. "He'd be caught. And on top of that, he'd never be able to come up with a proper lie to get himself out."

"Indeed?" Al raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed," she replied calmly. "But I'll have to hunt you down and slit your throat if you tell Scorpius I said that about him. Understood?"

He swallowed. "Understood. Completely understood."

After years of dealing with his mum, sister, and myriad aunts and girl cousins, Al possessed quite a healthy fear of the female threat.

x.x.x

"Now," Albus whispered, nudging the girl beside him.

Claire smirked almost imperceptibly and raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Zabini?"

"Pardon, Professor, but I'm feeling rather off. If I could possibly be excused to the infirmary . . . "

x.x.x

"Now," Scorpius whispered, nudging the girl beside him.

"This feels very familiar," Rose grumbled mutinously as she raised her hand. "And very wrong."

"Yes, Miss Weasley?"

"Oh—Professor Patil, would you be too troubled to come and take a quick look at our potion? I got a bit ahead of myself and now I'm worried I may have added the newt's eyes too soon . . . "

x.x.x

When he caught Claire re-entering the classroom in his peripheral vision, Scorpius tried to catch her attention as well.

"Claire," he mouthed as she took her seat across the classroom. "Claire. Did you go to the nurse?"

His friend twisted her face into a visual "Oh please" and turned away.

"Miss Zabini?" the professor said upon noticing Claire's re-entrance. "You feel well enough to rejoin the class, then?"

Claire nodded politely.

"And do you have your pass?"

She approached the professor's desk and held out what appeared to be her pass.

"Why is it not signed?"

Claire frowned and leaned over the desk, whispering something into Professor Patil's ear. The woman immediately softened, and spoke to Claire in hushed tones. Scorpius strained his ears but could only make out snatches of her speech—" . . . poor dear . . . always so crowded . . . embarrassed, naturally . . . a potion for . . . if you need to be excused to your dormitory . . . "

"What on earth?" Scorpius mouthed after Claire had thanked the Potions professor and turned to gather her books. "You've been excused?"

The black-haired girl flashed a quick Cheshire grin in his direction and waltzed gracefully out the door.

Damn her.

x.x.x

Son,

I must first express my pleasure that you seem to be acclimating yourself to the dizzying altitudes of Gryffindor tower, and, dare I say, acquainting yourself with the natives.

However, I see that, as per usual, a Potter knows nothing of which he speaks. Did it ever occur to you, Scorpius, that Gregory Goyle may have been forced to repeat his first year at Hogwarts? Twice? Furthermore, if the toffee-brainers (as you have so kindly dubbed your Housemates) have not yet turned your own brain to sticky confection, you may discover through means of simple addition that, by the time he had made it to second year with my class, Greg was, indeed, fourteen years old.

Henceforth, please check your sources.

Yours,

Father

p.s. I agree wholeheartedly, but please try to keep quiet about the pitch nevertheless. Your grandmother Narcissa is under the impression that I long ago had that area converted into a formal ballroom where you might learn the fine art of the waltz, and she would be devastated were she to catch wind of word to the contrary, In fact, you may find it prudent to burn this letter. Now.

x.x.x

Albus,

I do what I can.

Much love,

Dad

p.s. I'm very glad that you are making friends with your fellow Slytherins. However, I must stress that there will be no indoor Quidditch pitch so long as you and your brother are around to destroy it.

x.x.x

Claire smiled faintly as she emptied the contents of her satchel onto the library table.

"Brilliant," Scorpius whispered. "You've got it all."

Albus nodded his own approval.

"You didn't even get detention for not having the pass signed," Scorpius continued. "And—and Patil let you go early. What could you have possibly said?"

Claire raised on eyebrow, then leaned across the table and whispered something to Rose, whose brown eyes went wide as a pair of Galleons.

"You didn't!" Rose whispered.

Claire just nodded.

More comical even than Rose's reaction, Albus found, was Scorpius'. The blond boy's mouth had turned downwards into a scowl, apparently as soon as realized that he wasn't privy to whatever fascinating bit of information the girls were currently snickering over.

"Well, come on then!" he demanded, surly. "What could you possibly want to share with Weasley that you can't let the two of us in on?"

Albus couldn't have possibly cared less about what secret the girls had shared, yet he felt strangely happy that Scorpius' demand had encompassed the both of them.

"Nothing that your weak, male constitution could handle," Claire informed him.

"She's right, really," Rose added. "All you need to know is that Claire"—and here Rose shook her head in awed disapproval —"Claire plays dirty."

x.x.x

Father,

Potter is in Slytherin. Who knows nothing of which he speaks now?

Scorpius

x.x.x

"Fucking—Astoria? Read this, will you? It doesn't—it can't possibly—I think my eyesight must be going."

x.x.x

Dad,

If you mean Scorpius Malfoy, he's in Gryffindor, actually.

Al

x.x.x

"Fucking—Ginny! Ginny, where are you? I've got to show—oh—you won't bloody believe this!"

x.x.x

a/n: After a year without updates, I'm not really in a position to beg for reviews. But I will extend my love and apologies and hope for the best.