Disclaimer: All of the characters and associations of the Harry Potter realm belong to J. K. Rowling and all other copyright holders. Sadly, I am not included in these aforementioned institutions and merely borrow such settings as a playground for my own creativity.

Skeletons and Monuments

"Good afternoon Mr. Potter. Please take a seat," Professor Patil greeted without looking up as the door to her office creaked open, motioning to he empty seat in front of the desk.

"Professor?" Professor Patil snapped her gaze up from the papers she had been shuffling through, deep brown eyes narrowed slightly at the boy she had mistook as the next in her advisory sessions. Under her scrutinizing stare, the boy straightened and subconsciously cocked his head in attempt to find reason for the hostility of the head of his house. The glare lessened as she shook her head almost unnoticeably, remembering the boy in front of her wasn't some ghost of her past.

"Hello, Mr. Malfoy, how can I help you?" Professor Patil mumbled as she returned to sifting through her desk. Scorpius let his shoulders drop in relief, resuming his earlier humble stance. Padma Patil spared him one last glance, noting how the Malfoy that haunted her memories never would be caught as lax as the boy in front her. While Scorpius may have inherited the Malfoy looks, all aristocracy was lost on the boy, as he certainly was not brought up thinking himself a prince like her former enemy. Yet, as she had heard, Malfoy senior had become an asset in his adult years and had seemingly atoned for his teenage mistakes. Nevertheless, it was hard to not blame her former classmate for giving the school to the Death Eaters. She knew that countless felt the same, yet she also firmly believed his son should not be punished for the past.

"Well, I was supposed to meet with you earlier about my choice of studies after taking my OWLs this year," Scorpius began, pausing to glance nervously at the former Ravenclaw who now ran the Slytherin house with a tight rein. "I was…in the infirmary earlier and hoping I could still meet-" A deep shout cut off the blonde's explanation.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor!" A whirl of unruly black hair and a billowing green and silver scarf came barreling into the office, door slamming abruptly behind him. Scorpius frowned slightly at being interrupted, glaring at the boy who was now taking the seat in front of Professor Patil's desk.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter was scheduled to be here twelve minutes ago," emphasizing his lateness wit a harsh glare, "but I'll have enough time to speak with you after our meeting. In the meantime, please have a seat on one of the chairs next to the fireplace," she instructed, motioning to a pair of seats across the large office. Scorpius gathered his books, glancing once more at the mess of black hair that sat in front of him to notice green eyes were observing his actions. As the two gazes met, the typical jovial sparkle vanished and was replaced with cold malice. Scorpius was the one to break the staring contest as he sighed, lugging his books to the opposite side of the room. Sure, the mess of robes and black hair may have been Albus Potter, the son of his father's schoolyard rival and antithesis of what his family formerly stood for, but he never understood the hostility the boy showed him from the first day they were both sorted into Slytherin. Overtime, the dislike had become mutual, as he couldn't understand how someone could blindly hate another without even knowing them.

Hogwarts had changed since their parents roamed the halls here. Actually, the entire wizarding world had changed; the school was just the easiest place to see such changes exemplified. Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, there had been not one head of Slytherin that had actually belonged to the house in their time at Hogwarts. It was McGonagall's way of removing the so-called bad blood and stigma the Slytherin name carried. While it was still with out a doubt the most conniving of the Hogwarts student body, it evolved from being a hierarchy based off of family bloodlines to one drawn from the feats of the wizard and how true one was to the cunning and competitive nature of Slytherin. Still, there was a presence of pureblood aristocracy in certain minds and who your parents were factored in to things as well. Initially, people didn't cross Scorpius because he was a Malfoy and when Albus was announced a Slytherin he automatically was revered. It was politics, as his father put it. No longer the age old squabble of how pure your magic was but now the fight for fame- or infamy in Malfoy's case. But that only held you so far. You had to keep your ranking past the house's first glance or you'd be left as the common room's spell dummy in traditional Slytherin fashion.

Scorpius settled into the nearest chair, opening his potions book to review the lesson from earlier that day. If he was going to have to wait for Potter, he might as well make the most of his time and start his studying. Pushing his blonde fringe from his eyes, he attempted to focus on how he should be slicing his flobberworm rather than eavesdrop on whatever his green eyed nemesis was planning on doing with his life. Unfortunately, the latter seemed to pique his interest more as the two behind him began the advising session.

"So, Mr. Potter, have you given any thought to what you'd like to do after you years in Hogwarts?"

"I'd like to play professional Quidditch," Albus announced, pride dripping off his words so heavily it made Scorpius snort dismissively at the presumptuous announcement. Apparently, Professor Patil was on the same page at the young Malfoy.

"While you may be an exceptional Quidditch player," another snort from Scorpius who was sure he could knock the green eyed git off of his brook without trying, "I must remind you that one cannot simply choose to play professional Quidditch. You must be recruited and undergo rigorous training and try outs before even being eligible to be picked for a team. And if not picked, you simply must stay in training until you either decide to take on the sport as a hobby in a casual league or- by some miraculous chance, are chosen for one of the few remaining teams in Europe. Now, I'm not saying to not keep it as an option, but have you given thought to anything else?" The prompt must have angered the other boy as he scoffed loudly, before carrying on in an icier tone than earlier.

"Well, Professor, you may be right that I do indeed need to be recruited to even be given a shot in the league, but I know that I am already a shoe-in for the 2024 draft! I've seen the competition at other schools in Europe and I can honestly say they fall flat when it comes to International standards. And at Hogwarts the only player that could give me a run for my money is Davies, but he's always injured so I'd have to say, Professor, I'm practically accepted," he finished with a smirk that Scorpius couldn't see but he knew was there. It was the same tone he used in the common room where their politics were put to the test. No one received that smirk unless Potter knew he was irrefutably the winner of whichever silent challenge. Professor Patil must have been as nonplussed as Scorpius as she took in his smug demeanor.

"That all may be true, but who is to say you aren't the next to fall victim to the Ad Astera's faulty tendency to actually adhere to it's name?"

"That was fixed after the recall-"

"Even so, Mr. Potter, I implore you to please pick a tangible course of study. I have these brochures, seeing as you haven't given much thought-" Albus waved off the brochures, moving to rest his forearms on the desk, leaning slightly forward in his chair. Scorpius wasn't sure when he moved so he could see the display of Slytherin antics past the common room, but he was glad he did. Professor Patil looked momentarily taken aback from the assertive pose, as despite her sharp wit that bordered on vicious as well as her penchant for a strongly governed house, it was obvious she herself had never been in the social ladder climb that characterized Slytherin. One of his father's friends, Gregory Parkinson's mother in fact, had urged her to take the post as all the other applicants had been former Slytherins at the time they were still screening against the former affiliates thus the post was, as he had been told, offered up to a former Hufflepuff in desperation. Patil was better than any sniveling herbology lover, but it was quite amusing to see her put out by a mere fifth year.

"Auror," was the steadfast response.

"Ah yes, I would have guessed that. Your brother said the same thing to the Gryffindor head last year. Unfortunately he didn't have the grades in Potions and Transfiguration, similar to you. How about Care of Extraordinary creatures, like him? Hagrid speaks highly of you," she encouraged.

"I'm not James. He's been bloody obsessed with Uncle Charlie forever. He can go to Romania and singe his hair off if he likes, but I want to be an Auror," he ascertained. The two hold gazes for a few silent moments, Albus now perched on the edge of his seat, eyes slightly narrowed.

"You are very much your father's son," Professor Patil sighed. "Stubborn through and through. Very well, Mr. Potter. I must advise you though that in order to be eligible to become an Auror you must receive at least an Exceeds Expectations in five NEWTs. And to be eligible for those, you need to buckle down from now until the end of term. Your grades in Charms are sufficient as well as your Defense Against the Dark Arts, but both Transfigurations and Potions would need to be brought up. Now, I know you're capable of excellent transfiguration as I recently saw you turn poor Miss Weasley's cat to a muggle football the other day, so the practical exam shouldn't be the problem. If you put effort into assignments, I'm sure you'd be able to pass the written portion of the OWL as well. As for Potions…" Dark brown eyes came to seek out Scorpius, who quickly focused all his attention back onto his textbook as to not seem suspicious. "I think all you would need is a good tutor. Mr. Malfoy!" Scorpius shot up at hearing his name, eyes flickering between the Professor and Albus, both now observing him. "Mr. Potter here is in need of some tutoring in Potions. Seeing as you are top of your class-"

"Thanks, but no," Potter practically growled. Professor Patil shot him with another of her hawk like glares.

"Mr. Potter, at this moment you're averaging a low Average if not Poor in the class. Surely you understand that you could use the help."

"Actually, I'm sure if I study I'll pull it off. All I need is Exceed Expectations, right? And I'll tag on Muggle Studies next year, and call it a day. Thanks Professor." Not leaving Professor Patil a moment to speak, he grabbed his book bag and slung it across one shoulder. Without a second glance, he exited as swiftly as he arrived. Staring slightly perturbed at the door, Professor Patil sighed in exasperation. She was used to Slytherins by now, but she still never got over how sometimes the slicker ones got the best of her. If she didn't know better, she would never think he was Harry Potter's youngest son. Sure, Harry's disposition may have not been too off from his son's but Albus turned it into sleek stubbornness and never once found himself on the receiving end of a punishment, or at least not without calculated thought put behind it with a decision whatever punishment was worth the action. And now here was the other offspring that send her mind for a spin at how far the apple could fall from the tree. Feeling of a bit kinder heart, she even offered the blonde waiting across her office a soft smile before motioning him to sit in the seat in front of her.

"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I assume you've given some thought to what you'd like to do with your future."

"Mr. Potter, if you would kindly take a seat," instructed to the quiet, yet ominous murmur from a slight woman bent over a cauldron at the front of the room. Not wanting to set off the finicky Potions Master, Albus did as he was told. Albus watched as with one hand his teacher meticulously stirred the potion while the other combed calmingly through her long black mane that was pulled out of the way. Albus had to admit that she was quite attractive, despite being his parents' age. Unlike many of his father's acquaintances, Professor Chang seemed untouched by the long gone Wizarding War. As if knowing where the boy's thoughts were going, almond shaped brown eyes snapped up at him coldly. Albus resisted shrinking back, not wanting to show that he was intimidated by a woman half of his size.

"Typically, Mr. Potter, I have people serving detentions for me help with something productive- an event you are too familiar with," she turned her nose up slightly to show her scorn at the repetitive trouble maker. This had been going on since first year, even before Albus had found his affinity for wreaking havoc. The oriental woman hadn't taken to him from the moment his name was called off of the roster, imposing every ounce of discipline she could on him. When Albus had told his father, he merely laughed it off to running in the family. Albus sure that whomever his father had studied under couldn't possibly have the same blind hate nor the icy, vindictive nature. Albus adverted his eyes from her glare, fearing that his Professor could somehow be a long lost relative of Medusa.

"Unfortunately, you insist on proving time and time again your incompetence and need to make a scene-"

"But Professor, it wasn't my fault! How should I know if you added the flobberworms while simmering it would curdle and burn through the cauldron!" Albus couldn't help but protest. He hadn't actually known that reaction nor did he realize that there was a proper time to add the flobberworms as it hadn't been written in his textbook.

"Any competent student could tell you that without batting an eye. We covered it earlier this year. Perhaps, it you are so dense to the art, you should request assistance," she suggested, despite that they both knew she'd first skewer him than allow peer collaboration in her classroom. Albus went to bring this to her attention, but she cut him off. "You'll be joining me again this weekend for detention Saturday night for your insubordination."

Albus straightened to his full height, glaring down the woman across the room. Despite his anger, he kept his mouth shut, knowing when silence was more redeeming than a retort. His mind was already off plotting how to enact revenge on Chang. The woman was the first to break the gaze, a small smirk of triumph on her lips, unaware of Albus's murderous thoughts.

"As I was saying…Typically I'd insist you to aid in preparing ingredients or tending to the equipment, but not tonight. Out of fear for the well being of school property, I've decided a more traditional method of punishment. Mr. Malfoy here," Albus quickly snapped his attention to the far end of the Potion's room, noticing the silvery head for the first time, "is working on a potion. I personally recommended hi for the job and he's been brewing it excellently for the past few months. Five to be exact. It still has three weeks to mature. You, Mr. Potter-"

"Am supposed to help him?" Albus spat disgustedly. Almond eyes narrowed dangerously, but Albus didn't back down as Malfoy was the last person he was going to help with anything.

"Mr. Potter, I would never entrust you to touch a potion anywhere near this caliber. Your assistance would be more of a hindrance and a punishment on Mr. Malfoy as well. No, you are to figure out which potion Mr. Malfoy has been commissioned to brew and write a foot long parchment on how you discerned what potion it was and another foot long parchment on its uses, hazards, etcetera. It'll now be due when you return Saturday." Green eyes bore into the back of the blonde's head, who still hadn't looked up from his potion since being addressed.

"Scorpius?" Professor Chang's voice significantly softened when addressing the blonde. The boy finally raised his head, questioning his teacher silently. "I'm confident you have everything under control. If you encounter any problems, I shall be in my office," she emphasized this last statement with a pointed look at Albus. The latter couldn't help but notice how the pale boy bit his lip, almost imperceptibly before nodding his head, tucking stray silvery strands behind one of his ears. As Professor Chang departed, Scorpius quickly looked back to his cauldron, standing there watching it bubble for a moment before flipping a page in the book propped on the table next to him. He still had yet to acknowledge Albus or ever glance in his direction.

Sighing, the dark haired boy pushed himself from the table he'd perched himself behind. He made no more to approach the Malfoy heir, wishing Chang had told him to pickle frog brains or scrape under desks or even clean the livestock storage room rather than this. He'd have to tell his father of this later as being stuck in detention with the bane of your existence could not be beaten by any childhood story of punishment his father could conjure. Even if his father could make an argument against him, the fact that he was stuck with a Malfoy automatically trumped it. Deciding that there had to be a way to get the assignment done without actually talking to the other boy, Albus dejectedly made his way to the far side of the classroom.

Scorpius heard the shuffling of feet in front of him but pointedly refused to look up. He wasn't sure when it had happened or even why, but somewhere along their time at Hogwarts the Potter boy had developed an intense hatred towards him. He'd shrug it off to his last name, as it had lost him favor with his house initially, he had to think it was more than that as for the youngest of the Potter trio was uncannily nice to him as they shared Arithmacy. His resolve to not look at the other boy broke when he heard clanking and a mumbled curse. Fearing for the well being of his potion, he searched wildly for the problem. Albus stood a few feet away, rubbing his hip that had knocking into the table holding the few ingredients that Scorpius needed for that night.

"Be careful!" he implored. He had meant to have it come out angrily, but the tone was a bit more pleading. Albus sent him a dark look, but didn't respond, pulling the extra chair up on the other side of the cauldron. Green eyes plunged into the depths of the concoction and Scorpius realized he wasn't the only one who was avoiding the other. At least Albus didn't feel like playing power games today. Scorpius rarely responded to the bait but he didn't have the patience for it tonight. Discretely, Scorpius observed as the boy across from him tilted his head in every various direction, trying to find some secret to the boiling substance that would give him the answer to just what Scorpius was brewing.

"She intended that you actually asked questions," Scorpius found himself muttering between stirring. He felt Albus's gaze snap back up to him and his ears colored against his will. Why did he have to open his mouth?

"Yeah well the old hag's intentions went to waste," Albus muttered. "Why would I ask you anything?" Scorpius's eyes narrowed at the last comment, but he held his tongue. He was not one to be impulsive. Instead of snapping back, Scorpius surprised even himself with the response.

"I'm brewing Felix Felicis. It's liquid luck, in case you're that daft. You figured it out because it takes six months to brew and Professor Chang said I had been brewing it for five months thus far with three remaining. The gold color is characteristic of it as is the pleasant smell. You can see the budding of the gold leaf, which will eventually develop into movable droplets that will leap like goldfish upon the completion. You can also include how I was meticulous while stirring and every fifth stroke was counter clockwise then a sudden clockwise to finish it off. The simmering takes place for eight hours before a two hour stirring period. Include something about the etymology and come up with something creative on how you came across all these points. I've heard you wondrous Quidditch stories in the common room, so use some of that imagination towards the parchment," Scorpius ended with the slight dig. Gray eyes came up to meet green and he was taken aback at how astounding the gaze was when it wasn't clouded in hatred. In fact, at that moment, Albus had forgotten his vendetta against the slighter boy and was sizing him up.

"Why are you brewing Felix Felicis? Isn't that hard?" Scorpius didn't resist rolling his eyes.

"Yes, actually. But I've been at NEWTs levels since the middle of last year," he informed. His voice held no bragging tone nor even one of condescending, making Albus's eyebrows knit together.

"But why?"

"Because I like Potions."

"No I mean why are you brewing it?" Scorpius met his gaze again, scrutinizing the boy that had done a complete turn around in the past two minutes.

"I'm not allowed to say..."

"Oh," Albus seemed to remember who he was talking to, steeling himself up again. Clearing his throat, green eyes shifted anywhere but the boy in front of him that had just given him all the answers. Deciding that he better actually write down all that information, he moved back to the desk he originally inhabited across the room. Finding a quill and parchment, Albus began scratching away everything Scorpius had told him and once finished, he just started doodling on the side of the page. He couldn't write the essay then, as he really knew very little about the potion past what he was just told, and that seemed the best way to spend the rest of his three hour detention than attempt to discern the kindness his rival had just shown him. Nevertheless, he couldn't help himself from stealing glances at the blonde as he hovered over the cauldron over even as he put away all the supplies at the end of the two hour period. Albus blatantly stared at Scorpius as he sauntered across the room with an air of dignity, that Albus decided had to be natural rather than just for show like some of their other housemates, to alert Professor Chang he was done for the night. As the teacher reemerged for the last bit of his detention and Scorpius left, Albus blocked any thoughts of the blonde from his mind or why he had been so fixated on watching him that night. The fact that his long hated housemate suddenly spouted all the information needed to complete his detention assignment despite the coldness Albus had earlier poured on him was just suspicious, Albus decided. It was that suspicion that caused the dark haired boy to watch him like a hawk, was the last of Albus's thoughts on the matter- it was just Slytherin nature.

TBC

A/N: Slow start, I know. I promise that things will pick up quickly, but background just needed to be set.