The light tapping of small feet echoed through the marble-tiled hallway of the vast manor that sat atop a mound, opulent and steadfast. But, it began to acquire the antiquated dullness of age. The lack of daily oversight such an estate demanded in its upkeep was beginning to take its toll on the old stones of Malfoy Manor.

A light murmur sprang from behind the crimson curtains. Not wanting to disturb the occupant behind the curtains that lead to the terrace, Scorpius scurried past the open doors. His little feet shuffled past quickly, but not quickly enough, as a stern voice broke the silence of the early, morning dawn.

"Who's there?" The question hung in the air.

It didn't surprise Scorpius in the slightest that his grandfather had heard his passing, considering all the tales surrounding the man. Even wand-less and stricken from the common, wizarding world, only a fool would think Lucius was without some form of magical aid.

Skirting behind one of the flapping curtains, Scorpius poked his head from a crimson fold, and watched the figure of his grandfather. A drink in one hand, a small coin in the other.

Swallowing the lump that sat in his throat, Scorpius stuttered his apology.

Lucius remained silent while emptying his glass and turned to face his grandson. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the little boy, smirking. Walking towards Scorpius, he patted his shoulder and soon left his grandson alone in the hallway.

It wasn't as if Scorpius feared his grandfather. Lucius had never uttered a stern word toward Scorpius's in his life. But such facts hinge on the reality that neither party had time to forge any sort of valid connection usually reserved between grandchildren and their grandparents. The divide that had Scorpius stand as a stranger to his grandparents no doubt stemmed from his father's wishes. It wasn't often the family would visit the Manor. Most of their time was, instead, spent abroad in Bulgaria where Draco and his wife raised their children. Intermittently would Scorpius visit his father at Durmstrang - usually the weekend - during the school year while his father taught. However, all parties involved looked as if they did not mind the unspoken agreement of separation, but Scorpius secretly yearned to better understand the tenants of Malfoy Manor.

The butterflies that had woken Scorpius up began to flutter again. He was nervous. Nervous of today and all it would entail.

Scorpius was far from naive of where the Malfoys stood, and what his family ties lay, during the war. Life lessons and talks with his parents had given him an abridged version of the checkered history he had inherited. And though the years passed and sentences were served, the name of Malfoy had been tarnished beyond repair. That fact Scorpius held to heart every day. He saw it constantly. The judgement. And to an extent, he had grown accustomed to the whispers and prying eyes. However, the circumstances were now different. He was in England, where the scrutiny was always extreme, and he was to attend a school he had only heard in renditions that involved his own father destroying it. He hadn't the faintest idea of what the school looked like, so innocent was Scorpius to what lay in his future at Hogwarts.

Continuing his journey down the hall, while thinking about all his thoughts, Scorpius cautiously stepped down the stairs of the grand staircase, and made his way to the kitchen. Searching for some light, Scorpius yelped as he felt a gentle hand upon his shoulder. At first glance, Scorpius mistook the blue eyes for that of his mother. Yet, as his eyes adjusted to the new, glowing lights, the rounded face of his grandmother came into focus.

"You should be in bed," Narcissa spoke lightly, curbing the want to comb the stray hairs from her grandson's eyes. Much in the same manner she used to fret over her own son's hair. "Tomorrow, or should I say, today, is a big day."

Scorpius shook his head as he tried to explain himself. "I...my...well...," he stuttered.

Narcissa smiled slightly, as she moved to an old stove. She silently cursed the damn Ministry and its asinine laws that had abolished the house elves', so called, slavery. The Malfoy manor had not housed a single elf servant for the past decade and, as she reached toward the muggle contraption known as a refrigerator, she still hadn't become wholly adjusted to her new surroundings without magic.

"Whenever your father was nervous as a young boy, I would always bring him up a glass of warm milk," Narcissa spoke. "It's the only cure for those nasty, Malfoy butterflies."

Scorpius blushed as he heard his grandmother's faithful rendition of his ailment. In his mind, Malfoys weren't really the sort of people to get butterflies. He had deduced as much from all the talk he hear of the name.

"Thank you," Scorpius spoke lightly, but assured, as Narcissa sat a mug of hat milk on the counter, before him.

The two sat in silence as Scorpius sipped from his mug. Neither really knowing what to say to the other; however, there was a comfort in the silence.

Narcissa studied Scorpius as he drank his hot milk. The boy was a spitting image of his father, and clearly, he had inherited a few Malfoy traits as well. But Narcissa, even through her limited interaction with her grandson, could see the boy had his mother's quiet disposition. In that regard, Draco and Scorpius clashed like night and day. Draco was animated to a fault during his early childhood years, constantly talking and fidgeting about. Scorpius, on the other hand, always sat quietly and always seemed deep in thought. This moment was no different.

"Something else the matter?" Narcissa questioned, a little concerned.

Scorpius sighed as he sat the mug, half-empty, on the counter and stared confidently at his grandmother. "Did you like Hogwarts?"

The question was blunt and it surprised Narcissa. It wasn't a query she heard daily, and to be honest, she didn't really know the answer.

"Well," Narcissa began, remembering her early youth. "I do remember being excited the first time on the Hogwarts Express. I suppose it was the thrill of something new. As to liking my years spent at school. Hmm...," Narcissa paused, deliberating if she should continue in the vein of truth or curtail towards poetic license. "It's difficult to express."

Scorpius leaned in, enraptured. "Why?"

Narcissa smiled ever so slightly at the question. Why, indeed.

It's a Slytherin thing I suppose. We weren't people's cup of tea. And even to this day, regardless of advancements, those that were, and will be, in Slytherin will have their moments of glory and infamy. Slytherins tend to leave Hogwarts with a bit of a checkered history."

"Do you think I will be sorted into Slytherin?"

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't know. Only the sorting hat has that answer."

Scorpius was a little skeptical at his grandmother's reply. He had heard stories about the sorting hat of Hogwarts, endowed with bits of the founders' own character. However, there was something Scorpius found oddly dubious with letting a centuries old rag decide the fates of youngsters.

"Would you mind being sorted into Slytherin?" Narcissa questioned, now curious as to her grandson's response.

Scorpius shrugged his shoulders. "I guess not. There isn't really any other place for me, now is there."

"Not necessarily true. You do know there are three more houses; with, I'm certain, much like Slytherin, their own perks and pitfalls."

"How so?"

"I'm going to assume you know a bit about Slytherins already," Narcissa paused as Scorpius nodded his head.

"A bit."

"Well, I haven't the faintest idea about Gryffindors, but I'm certain that if you were sorted into that house it would be required to loath us Slytherins," Narcissa cracked a smile as Scorpius chuckled. "Ravenclaws are a little conceited in their own intellect, but truth be told, it is well placed, as they usually harbour the best minds."

Scorpius' attention seemed to peak at the final words about Ravenclaws.

"And the Hufflepuffs. Let me see," Narcissa paused, because she really had nothing nice to say about the dolts that were usually sorted in what was referred to as, the remedial house. "Let's just say the Hufflepuffs are the sort to search for the good in everyone, but I must warn you. No one takes them seriously. There, I said it," Narcissa smiled as she held her hands up in mock surrender, while Scorpius laughed at his grandmother's candor.

"That's what I suspected," Scorpius confided, emptying his mug, but smiling all the same. The butterflies had long gone.

"You should be in bed," a low voice interjected, starting both Scorpius and Narcissa.

"I couldn't sleep," Scorpius responded to his father, as he jumped off the chair.

Draco caught the empty mug and stole a quick glance at his mother, while he sent his son back to bed with the reassuring pat upon his son's shoulders. "I'll be up in a moment."

"He talks," Narcissa broke the unwelcome silence that had grown between her and her son the moment Scorpius left the kitchen.

Draco nodded his head. "He's known to have his bouts."

Narcissa bit her bottom lip as she thought back to her grandson's questions. The boy was nervous, and rightfully so. Certainly, Draco and Cordelia, Draco's wife and mother to Scorpius, did there best to warn him about what he was to expect. But Narcissa knew how cruel children could be, as she, herself, had raised one of those cruel children.

Draco was about to turn and leave, when Narcissa interjected with a question.

"If you don't mind me asking," Narcissa could hear her son groan. "Why is it you're sending Scorpius to Hogwarts?"

The room froze.

"The truth?"

Narcissa replied with light 'yes'. She wasn't a fool. There were countless wizarding schools scattered about the world. The very fact that Draco decided to send his only son to Hogwarts plagued Narcissa the day she received the owl that informed her of their visit.

"You already know why he can't attend Durmstrang."

Narcissa nodded her head. Draco was part of the faculty at the school and thus, automatically disqualified Scorpius for admission.

"And so, we were reliant on admission letters from foreign schools. Well, they did not even feign interest in offering Scorpius a spot in their upcoming year. So, imagine my surprise when Scorpius receives his only letter from Hogwarts," Draco laughed; however, Narcissa did not. "At first, I wasn't entertaining the idea. I mean, he's my son, who unwillingly holds all the past of his relations, but Cordelia slowly changed my mind," Draco stopped as he heard his mother scoff at the name of his wife.

Narcissa had never approved of his choice, and Draco would never forget the look on his mother's face the day he told her he had knocked up some poor, unfortunate pureblood. She was from a dirt poor family who had the misfortune of supporting Grindelwald back in the forties. Clearly, they had an even poorer understanding of the Malfoy name and its fall from grace, for Cordelia's father was ecstatic to pass any one of his five daughters to any man that would look in their direction; let alone a suitor who asked for no dowry. But to her credit, Cordelia never once complained about her choice in a husband, and for that, Draco was eternally grateful for her companionship. He always feared he'd end up much like Snape. A lonely bachelor soured by his past.

"Regardless of what you think mother," Draco emphasised. "Cordelia is right. He knows most of the past, and he's already begun to suffer through what it entails. Hiding him from the inevitable is foolish. He's going to experience the full brunt of all our actions sooner or later."

Narcissa continued to fret about the kitchen as she heard her son's words, but still believed him to be at fault. She had unwittingly put Draco in harms way a little over twenty years ago. The thought of repeating history did not settle with her in the least.

"You just didn't try hard enough," Narcissa responded.

Draco chuckled, shaking his head as he turned to leave.

"What? Should I be more like a Malfoy and bribe my son into a school?"

Draco left soon after, not waiting for his mother's response. Actually, Narcissa had none.

It pained her to know that Draco, and to a greater extent, Cordelia, had been correct. Scorpius was going to learn everything soon, and at least, it was to be back at Hogwarts, where everything congregated to come full circle.