Part Eight
Secrets
End of the Winter Holidays, 2023


'Look,' Albus says, fidgeting. 'It's not that big a deal, okay?'

'Not that – are you mental?' Scorpius exclaims, eyes bugging unattractively. 'That kind of spellwork is complicated enough with a wand!'

'Will you stop shouting?' Albus snaps. The bedroom door, seemingly of its own accord, slams closed, making Scorpius jump. Good, Albus thinks. His friend is practically hysterical. 'That's all I need, is Dad or Jamie – '

'They don't know?' Scorpius is looking at Albus like he's never seen him before. He's also still shouting. 'Merlin's pants, Potter, what the hell is wrong with you? Your father – '

'Dad has enough to worry about without adding me in,' Albus says. It's true, and honestly, he doesn't see what the big deal is. 'I cast one tiny spell without my wand, so what?'

'You cast a metamorphic charm without a wand,' Scorpius feels inclined to point out, throwing up his hands in his way of indicating that Albus is a hopeless case. 'Non-verbally. And all you have to say is so what!' Scorpius flops back onto the bed, hand over his eyes. 'How long have you been – ' he waves his other hand in a swish-and-flick movement, 'doing that?'

'Um,' Albus says. 'I don't – always?'

Scorpius is rubbing at his face with the palms of his hands; that, or trying to claw his eyes out

'Always,' he says finally, sitting up to look at Albus. Scorpius' hair, Albus is pleased to note, is actually messier than his own. 'Do you pay any attention in History of Magic? Do you have any idea what this means?'

Albus doesn't think he's ever made it through a History lesson awake. It was always like having a free nap period in the middle of his schedule. 'That you're never going to shut up about it?' he offers.

Scorpius makes a tiny noise of pain deep in his throat. 'You really have no idea, do you?' he says, and Albus doesn't, but Scorpius doesn't explain. Instead, he fixes Albus with a look and says, 'Any other crazy secrets I should know about?'

Albus thinks that there are several, one in particular, but his father did know about that one and warned him long ago that it wasn't something he should go bragging about. He can feel Scorpius probing at his mind, his adolescent talent at Legilimency more annoying than ever. Albus blinks, and that's all it takes; barriers in place, Scorpius lets out a breath and glares at him.

'So, it's like that, then,' Scorpius says, voice like ice.

'Because I don't want you snooping around in my head?' Albus snaps back, a sudden burst of anger roaring in his ears. 'Yeah, Malfoy. It's like that. I only tell secrets to people I trust.'

Albus storms out of his bedroom and re-slams the door behind him. He sags backward, closing his eyes and resisting the urge to knock his head against the door in frustration. He hates fighting with Scorpius. It doesn't happen often, but when it does it makes him feel all twisted inside, even if he's got every reason to be angry because Scorpius is being a spoilt, insouciant prick.

It's not that Albus doesn't want to tell him. He does. He's almost told him about a dozen times over the years, but always held back by the uncertainty of what Scorpius would do if he did. It might ruin everything.

There is also the other thing, the one that has Albus blushing like a schoolgirl every time Tom smiles at him or averting his eyes every time Scorpius changes out of his robes, but honestly, that was the least of his worries.

The doorknob of his room jiggles; Albus dashes next door and locks himself in James' room, holding his breath as he hears footsteps pass the room and head towards the bath. A few minutes later, he hears the familiar, muffled roar of the shower through the wall and sighs in relief.

Scorpius will get over the fight quick enough, he knows. Probably sooner than later, what with being locked in the same house with Albus' older brother. But Albus doesn't want to talk to him right now, or any time soon, because he knows Scorpius won't let this go, will just dig in his teeth and hang on like a terrier until Albus gives in or hexes him into oblivion.

The shower gives Albus some time; he wonders just how long he can avoid Scorpius in his own house. Just then, like fate answering his prayers, Albus hears through the window the familiar rumble of an engine pull up out front.

On that note, Albus decides to indulge.


'So,' Draco says at length, 'your... cousin. He's really – '

'Don't even start.'

' – Muggle-ish,' Draco finishes lamely, humming. 'Did you really sic a python on him?'

'Not on purpose.'

'Was Finch-Fletchly an accident, too?'

'If you don't shut your face, I'm going to accidentally sic one on you.'

Draco's smile is wicked; Harry feels like he's somehow walked into a trap. 'Well, might be you should. Can't have people thinking we're getting along. It'd cause a scandal.'

'I think your son and James keep enough of the scandal going as it is,' Harry remarks.

Something shutters over Draco's expression. It isn't lost on Harry that Draco has, not once, enquired to his son's well-being during his stay over the holidays. 'They haven't burnt the house down yet,' Harry offers.

'Good, because I've not sunk so low as to buy you a new house,' Draco replies without missing a beat. 'Are you going back home, or did you want to get tea?'

Harry should go home. Teddy's already left, after having spoken with the Ravenclaw kid and escorting him back to Hogwarts. Teddy is always the best when it comes to talking to kids; Harry never knows what to say. He imagines going home; Ginny giving him that look that promises trouble later, James and Scorpius glaring daggers at one another over the dinner table, Lily and Olivia constantly asking to be excused to go do whatever it is that teenage girls do, and Tom and Albus making eyes at each other and hoping no one will notice.

'Yeah,' Harry says, abandoning the file on his desk. 'Food sounds good.'


'How long d'you think it'll take them to find us?'

Albus should be cold, but isn't; Tom does an exceptional job at keeping him warm, even though the snow comes up almost to their knees. The back wall of the broom shed is brittle, but sturdy. Albus leans his head back against it, grinning. 'Dunno. Hopefully never?'

Tom grins back at him. The stubble on his cheek bites sharply against Albus'. He smells like petrol; he always smells like petrol. Albus has come to associate the smell with the vertigo-like feeling his head and stomach experience now, as Tom's fingers curl around his waist, pulling him in. Albus knows that their absence will not go unnoticed for long, if it has at all—James is easy enough to lose, but he left Scorpius while he was in the shower and knows that he will come looking sooner rather than later. He feels a little guilty for leaving his best mate alone in the house with his older brother, but he hasn't seen Tom since those few days early last summer. Albus has spent the majority of his vacations at Malfoy Manor and, while he doesn't regret this, he gets to see Scorpius all year long and only gets to see Tom a few days out of every holiday.

'We could go for a drive,' Tom says. The Vantage is parked out front, and James is likely to hear the engine start and demand to come along. When Albus points this out, Tom shrugs. 'We could go very quickly,' he suggests.

Albus hesitates. Scorpius will be out of his shower soon, if he isn't already. 'We could,' he decides. 'But I can't—we can't take long,' he says, sighing. 'Or Jamie and Score burn down the house and mum'll have a fit.'

'They don't seem to get on well,' Tom agrees as they hurry quickly towards his car. Albus slides into the passenger seat as Tom starts the engine. 'Though, won't he be more buggered to learn you've run off with me?'

'It's not like that,' Albus says quickly, flushing. 'He's just a friend.'

'Yeah, all right,' Tom says, smirking as they pull out onto the street. 'You're a good liar, but not that good.'

'I'm not lying,' Albus says, truthfully.

'All right,' Tom says again, shrugging as he turns down another street, heading for the park on the edge of the Hollow. 'It's just,' he says, pausing, his mouth forming a funny angle. He looks sideways at Albus, 'You should see the way you look at him.'

'I don't—'

'You do,' Tom says, pulling up in the deserted parking lot adjacent to the park. The sun is setting already, and the snow-laden trees casting them in deep shadow. This late, the park is empty; everyone's gone home already for Christmas dinner. He puts the car into park and sits back in his seat, leaning against the door. 'I'm not angry,' he adds, at the look Albus is giving him. 'Just curious.'

'But I'm not—oh, Merlin and Morgana both,' Albus says, rolling his eyes. 'You too?'

'Me too, what?'

'You're jealous!'

Tom raises an eyebrow. 'Should I be?'

'No,' Albus says, firmly.

'Well, I am,' Tom admits sheepishly, smirking. 'A bit. Oh, come on, you get to spend all year with—well, that,' he explains. Albus feels his neck grow hot. 'I'm not angry,' he says again. 'But I can be a little jealous, if I want.'

'You don't need to be,' Albus points out, sidling over towards Tom's seat. It's a little awkward, but he's skinny, and Tom reclines the chair to make more room. 'He's straighter than a broom handle, honestly.'

'Well, to be fair,' Tom says, fingers tousling his hair, 'I thought I was, too.'

Albus is glad that Tom kisses him then, so he doesn't see him blush.


Scorpius can't find Albus.

This happens a lot, especially at school. He always seems to be misplacing the little bastard, and it certainly doesn't help that he has that cloak—though, Scorpius admits, he gets good use out of the cloak himself, so he supposes fair's fair. He can't understand how he can lose Albus in this house, however, when there are only so many places for Albus to hide. Even when Albus visits the Manor, he can always send their house-elf to find him.

It doesn't help that James Potter is here, though at the moment he seems confined to his room. Loud music that sounds vaguely familiar trails out the half-open door into the upstairs hall; Scorpius passes it quickly, hoping he will go unnoticed. Albus isn't in his room or the loo, so maybe he's downstairs? He could be in James' room again, but if that is the case, then there isn't much Scorpius can do about it for now.

The Muggle is also missing. Olivia is downstairs with Lily; they are charming each other's hair different colours, with increasingly disastrous results. Scorpius pokes his head into the kitchen, and spies Albus' mother shifting through something in the adjoining study, but Albus is nowhere to be seen.

Neither is the Muggle. Odd.

From what he can see out the windows, the backyard is also empty. As he investigates the front, he passes Lily, who currently has sleek blonde hair, not unlike his own natural colour. He pulls the curtain aside, and sees that the front yard is also deserted. The newly-painted evergreen Aston Martin is also missing.

'If you're looking for Al, Tommy and him took off, like, ten minutes ago.'

Lily is at his shoulder, looking at him looking. He scowls at her. 'Where'd they go?'

Lily shrugs and returns to the sofa with Olivia, whose own dusty blonde hair is now a dark red. It suits her. 'Buggered if I know where they're always getting off to.'

Scorpius, desperate for an ally should James venture downstairs, joins them. 'Always?'

'Tom and Al are always disappearing,' Olivia piques in. She's looking at herself in a hand-held mirror, wrinkling her nose. 'I dunno, Lil, you really think it's better this dark?'

'With your skin, yeah,' Lily says confidently, scrutinizing herself in the same mirror over Olivia's shoulder. She gives her wand a lazy wave, and the colour of her hair turns more of a strawberry blonde. She tilts her head in the mirror once more, running her fingers through her hair. She does an abrupt about-face and demands, 'What d'you think, Malfoy?'

'Um,' Scorpius says; too busy thinking about why Albus and his Muggle would scamper off without him, he's caught off guard. 'Sure?'

'I dunno,' Lily says, dismissing him and snatching the mirror from Olivia to scrutinize her reflection. 'It makes my freckles stand out.'

'Most blokes like freckles,' Olivia says. 'I wish I had them.'

'Do they?' Lily looks at Scorpius for confirmation.

'Er, I guess?' Scorpius says, thinking that honestly a bloke couldn't care less, so long as a girl is willing to let said bloke's hands wander. 'How long are they usually gone?'

'Don't worry, mum won't let James kill you while you're in the house,' Lily says, clearly picking up on his train of thought. 'You might not want to wander outside, though. Here, hold this.'

Lily shoves the looking glass into his hand and adjusts it just so, muttering 'There, don't move,' before taking her wand to her hair to give herself highlights. Scorpius resigns himself to being a vanity cabinet for the time being, if only it'll prevent giving James an easy target. Lily hums, making a face, before magicking the highlights away. 'Bugger all, my hair is hopeless.'

Scorpius thinks her hair is fine; if anyone's hair is hopeless, it's Albus', something she and her eldest brother were lucky enough not to inherit.

'Yeah,' Olivia agrees. 'We have very stubborn hair.' She looks passingly at Scorpius, then pauses. Scorpius suddenly feels alarmed. 'We could play with his hair.'


James is hungry. This is generally a bad omen for house-elves and relatives everywhere, because when James Potter is hungry he can eat about three times his own weight without pause. His mother is the only one who doesn't seem particular surprised by this fact; apparently, he inherited the talent from every single one of his uncles.

It's why he's left the confines of his room, humming the guitar riff to Smoke on the Water under his breath. It is really unfair, James thinks, that Muggles seem to get all the amazing guitarists.

The rock 'n roll under his breath is interrupted by the obnoxious sounds of pop coming from the half-open door to his left. Ever since Tom introduced Lily to Madonna, she's played The Immaculate Collection enough times that James sometimes finds himself singing Material Girl in the shower before he realises what's happening. It's like a disease.

He shudders and shoulders the door open. 'Lil, will you give it a rest – '

James stops himself, momentarily stunned by the image presented inside. Olivia is on the bed flipping through some Muggle magazine, reading out choice quotes and cackling. Lily is perched half-on her vanity desk, wand in one hand and look of intense concentration on her face. The other hand she has tangled in short black hair, now sporting the occasional burst of candied-apple red.

Malfoy's sitting cross-legged on the chair in front of the mirror, head tilted down, looking up at Lily through his multi-coloured bangs. He mutters something James can't hear over the music, and Lily giggles. James has his wand in his hand before he finishes opening the door.

'What the hell?'

'Oh, bugger,' says Lily.

Malfoy ducks just in time to avoid the hex; the mirror behind Lily shatters.

'Are you twelve?' Lily snaps at him, grabbing Malfoy by the arm as he goes to raise his own wand. 'Get out of my room!'

Malfoy twists out of her grip and then shoves them both aside to avoid James' next spell, just as someone behind him goes, 'Hey, what're you lot – Expelliarmus!'

James' wand goes flying from his hand; Teddy, standing behind James in the hallway, catches it swiftly. 'Piss off!' James snaps, attempted to snatch his wand back.

Teddy raises his wand out of his reach, backing up as he does because over the past year, James has nearly caught up to him in height. This unfortunately brings James back into the hallway, which allows Lily to slam the door behind him; there's a faint click as the lock slides into place.

'Dammit, Teddy, what the hell!'

'I could ask you the same,' Teddy says, still holding James' wand out of reach. 'Are you done being an idiot?'

'Malfoy is in there!'

'Yes, I can see that, but unless he was snogging your sister, you really need to calm down.'

James crosses his arms over his chest and glares. 'They were playing with his hair.'

'Then I think him snogging your sister is the last thing you need to worry about,' Teddy says knowledgeably. He offers James his wand, but pulls back as James immediately reaches for it. 'Don't think I won't arrest you.'

James rolls his eyes and snatches his wand back. 'You wouldn't.'

'Well, maybe not,' Teddy admits, smirking, 'but I'm pretty sure Harry would. Come on, let's go see what's for dinner, eh?'


'How many do we have?'

'About twenty.'

'And how many can we afford?'

'Six. Eight would be pushing it.'

'And you're sure you don't mind?'

Draco looks up from the proposal laid out between them, scattered amongst various Chinese take-away boxes. 'Are you sure you don't?'

Harry has to admit, he's a little uncomfortable with the idea, but it's not as if they have any decent alternatives. 'Is there really enough room for twenty? Teenagers?' he adds, because this is kind of an important point.

Draco shrugs. 'Sure, if they double-up. It'll still be more room than they get at Hogwarts.'

'And how do we plan to feed them?'

'They're teenagers,' Draco says, shrugging again. 'They'll eat anything.'

'They'll eat a lot of anything.'

'I'll figure something out.'

Harry gives him a look; over the years crossing paths at the Ministry, he's learned enough about Malfoy to know whenever he decides to figure something out, it's usually by throwing Galleons at it.

'Still,' Draco continues, 'someone's going to have to cook the food. And clean up after them. I only have one house-elf.'

'I'll talk to McGonagall, I'm sure she wouldn't mind lending us a few over the summer.'

Draco grimaces. 'Oh, great, Granger'll love that.'

'Just tell her we're compensating them.'

'With what? Wool hats?'

'Sure, why not?'

Draco rolls his eyes and goes back to the parchment.

Harry digs around in the fried rice while Draco scribbles some more notes before going down the list. 'Oh, and we'll need some sort of supervision. Even if I don't come into the office there is no way in hell I am going to be able to babysit twenty demon children by myself.'

'Teddy'll help out.'

'He'll cause more trouble than he prevents.'

'Maybe, but him I can reprimand.' Draco glares at him and Harry subsides. 'I'll ask around, we'll figure something out.'

'All right,' Draco says, gathering the parchment together. 'I'll take care of this. You need to get the draft for the training program back to me by, oh, I dunno, let's go with March to be safe. Merlin help us if Kingsley doesn't approve it.'

'Most of the parents have already signed the waivers,' Harry points out. Actually, on that note... Harry rustles around in his own stack of parchment before finding the one he needs, and dangles it in front of Draco. 'Except you.'

Draco snatches the form out of his hand and hastily scrawls a signature across the bottom before tossing it back.

'Not even going to read it?' Harry asks.

'Why bother?' Draco says, and when Harry tilts his head in question, rolls his eyes. 'I wrote the damn thing.'

'If you don't want him to go,' Harry says, choosing his words carefully, 'I can make up about a dozen reasons to deny his application.'

Draco sighs before gathering his things and standing. 'I don't care, Potter.'

Yeah, Harry thinks. I can see that.