I don't think I've ever had more trouble posting a story than I have with this one. Not emotionally or anything, but I mean computer crashed, lost internet access, why-does-everything-hate-me bad luck at posting this story. So I've decided to post it on FF, and hopefully it won't get messy. Well, messier than I want it to be. Well... thanks.-SHQ
PART ONE:
IN WHICH WE LEARN THE NATURE OF THINGS
Dinner was a quiet affair.
Well, in a different way than it usually was. Slowly chewing on a forkful of lettuce, Draco Malfoy regarded his son, who was currently shredding the vegetable matter on his plate as if it had insulted him and his future progeny for generations to come.
Something, he thought blandly, was bothering Scorpius.
In the Malfoy household, supper was usually relaxed, with him and his son sharing fairly decent food and a genuinely comfortable silence. Tonight, however, the lax atmosphere was strained, tension emanating from the younger of the two. Uncharacteristically, Scorpius was distracted and distant. Even fidgeting.
The food on his plate was mutilated, but remained, for the most part, unconsumed. Draco raised one pale brow. He suspected he knew the root cause of his son's odd behavior- considering this, he tactfully chose not to comment.
However, he did make a mental note to check on his son later.
Silver light streamed through an open window and spilled onto an immaculate wooden floor, casting a glowing silver square on the dark expanse. Scorpius stared at the puddle of moonlight, gunmetal eyes bleary with fatigue. His platinum blond hair, tousled from hours of tossing and turning against his pillow, gave his head the appearance of what feathers do after particularly brutal goose-down-pillow fights.
A twinge of annoyance pulled at the contours of his mouth- he shouldn't be so affected. The train left in two weeks, so he had plenty of time to get ready, right? Besides, he was just going shopping. No big deal.
He was only getting some books. Some supplies, some robes… A wand…
Scorpius shifted, pale hair falling further down into his eyes.
His own wand. Tomorrow.
Merlin.
What would it be like? Unicorn hair? Phoenix feather? And then, after that- what about the train ride? Was he really going to have to run through a wall? What about the lake? The giant squid?
What about the bloodyHouses?
Scorpius didn't know the details of his family's part in the Second Great War- just that his family had switched sides, and now everyone hated them. So how in Merlin's name was he supposed to avoid all the kids that would unconditionally hate his guts? How was he supposed to make any friends?
He sighed again, feeling a migraine push forward from the recesses of his skull.
The fluid, breathy sound was quickly lost to the stillness of the night. He fancied he heard his father's voice in his head, voice clear and confident, telling him to be proud of who he was. Proud to be a Malfoy. He always said that.
But he wasn't the one crossing that lake in two weeks.
He'd shut his eyes without realizing it- distantly, he wondered how long they'd been closed. Even as he felt his breathing start to slow and deepen, signaling the sleep he'd been longing for, he didn't feel relieved. Anxiety continued to seethe within the pit of his stomach. He tried to calm himself down- Scorpius tended to sleepwalk when he was stressed.
Which was, actually, another reason to be nervous.
Father was used to finding him in odd places at ungodly hours of the night and early morning, saying and doing things that were even stranger. The maid was still extracting the kappa-butter from the carpet in the spare sitting room.
But what would the teachers say? And the other kids?
What if he woke up in the middle of a corridor or a class room one morning… naked?
Scorpius suddenly felt sick.
Worse yet, what if he…Changed…in his sleep? He was certainly, he thought, stressed enough for it to happen. And if it did happen, it could only end in a mess, he was sure of it. He'd end up mauling somebody, with his luck, or being kicked out of the castle to fend for himself in the Forbidden Forest, alone with all the real wolves…
The thought caused him to groan miserably. Valiantly, Scorpius attempted to force the thought from his head. He needed to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow was a big day. Not the Big Day- which, coincidentally, was synonymous with The Day of Terrible Trains, Loathsome Lakes, and His Agony and Doom – but significant, nonetheless.
Despite his efforts, though, his disquiet did not relent, instead haunting him even as he finally drifted off…
The wolf sat outside under the window. He was large, with thick, pure white fur that shone etherally in the moonlight. Intelligent eyes the color of cold steel glinted wildly glint as the creature sniffed once, cursorily.
The night pulsed, and he was filled with the urge to run. Making no attempt to resist, he sprinted along the dark stone flanks of the manor, soaring across the lawn like a phantom. He saw grass that was not green rush below him. Green, like most every other color, had disappeared, vanished. The entire world had entered a state of semi-colors, blacks, whites, and grays.
But that hardly mattered. Dashing, sprinting, running away from all the worry in the world, he felt free. Above it all. He was so wrapped up in his elation that when he heard his own deep, booming howl echo across the night, but didn't spare it a thought.
He'd reached the eastern wing of the manor, where the flower garden was located in a small courtyard. The delicate smells of the flowers mingled to create a strong, sweet odor that made him feel lightheaded and giddy. Closest to him was a bed of daffodils, the light hue of the petals making them resemble a mound of soft snow.
He moved towards the flowers, but something made him stop.
Something wasn't right.
A low growl sprang from deep within his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. His eyes darted from the flowers, to the lawns, to the manor, finally resting on the wide glass doors that led from the end of the eastern hall out into the flower garden. Something was coming. He felt himself snarling, and heard the growl that was once low in his chest erupt from his throat, resounding and vicious.
It was getting closer.
He saw the figure approaching, a tall, thin man with platinum blonde hair, his wand held high. It was emitting a wide beam of light. The figure continued to approach, the illumination of his wand swinging wildly from side to side, searching for the source of the growling, before finally resting on where he was crouched, snarling, beside the daffodils.
His mouth parted slowly, a single word escaping-
"Scorpius!"
"Whassa- ugh… M'awake… Mmm-yawn -I'm up, Father."
Scorpius rubbed groggily at his eyes. Removing them, he saw that he was outside- and, more importantly, it was still dark. The moon was hanging low over towering roof of the manor, partially eclipsed, just barely visible behind the sloping landscape of slate tiles. He smelled flowers. Further investigation revealed that there were, indeed, flowers in the vicinity. Daffodils.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Scorpius saw that he was in the flower garden… on the ground… and Father was staring at him.
Scorpius groaned.
"Was I making an awful lot of noise?" he asked, curious as to how his father had managed to find him so quickly.
Draco shook his head.
"Just a bit of howling," he replied.
Scorpius let the words echo in his ears.
"A bit of howling…" he repeated.
He sighed, muttering under his breath as he clambered up.
"Oh, just a bitof howling tonight, well that's just fine, then, perfectly keen,"
Something like a smirk pulled at the corner of Draco's mouth as he followed his son inside, patiently listening to his rough, disjointed version of a rant. He knew that this was part of what Scorpius had been worried. Usually he didn't make such a fuss. It was just as well, he thought, that his son did not know that he wasn't the only one in the Malfoy household who regarded the day three weeks ahead with apprehension.
The dark liquid rippled, reminding him absurdly of a puddle he'd splashed into when he was eight. Scorpius yawned, taking another sip of his tea in hopes that full-blown consciousness would return to him sooner for it.
He considered slumping over across the table, burying his head in his arms and just dropping off right there at the dining room table, but decided against it. Father was not the most logical person this early (as ungodly as the hour was, he couldn't fairly say that he was, either), and Scorpius doubted he'd be pleased with such a display.
Quite suddenly, he found himself remembering exactly why he was up so early.
Pushing his tea to the side and moaning forlornly, he decided he didn't quite care if his father walked in. He didn't want to see anything or hear anything. He didn't even want to smell anything. At that moment, Scorpius wanted nothing more than a long, peaceful slumber that would last for seven years.
That, he thought, would be perfect.
Albus paused, regarding the outline. It was simple enough. The beginnings of a sketch of his bedroom window, complete with a peek of the gnarled oak (James had broken at least three bones trying to climb it) outside. Although usually he was no perfectionist, he felt a pressing need bordering on obsessive compulsive to get the shading justright...
Brushing a few obstinate strands away once more, he left a dark smudge on the left side of his forehead. As he worked, a wave of contentment washed over him.
He was in his element- lines and shapes, colors and forms. Nothing to worry about.
Except that train ride, only three weeks away.
Bugger.
With the train ride, he knew, would come his first year at Hogwarts, and with it, his Demise. He'd tried explaining this to time and time again to his parents over the summer, but they wouldn't listen. They just didn't get it, apparently.
"I've already owled your Professors, Alby," Dad had said. "They understand completely- you have nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine, trust me."
Well, quite frankly, Albus had his doubts.
It was these acerbic thoughts that stilled his hand, decaying his peaceful, carefree mood and casting it into grotesque death throes. With an irritated huff, Albus abandoned the unfinished picture on his bed. Dozens of other pieces of parchment layered the wooly, deep maroon surface in chaotic half-piles, most of them unfinished.
Suddenly the door suddenly swung open, and, frowning slightly, Albus lifted swift green eyes up to see who it was. Why couldn't his door have a lock? Normal people, he thought, had locks on there doors. He supposed it would be too convenient. Not that he wanted to keep her out, necessarily, but it'd be nice to have the option.
He smiled nervously and gave his sister a little wave.
"Hey, Lily."
Lily Potter's cherubic face was nearly split in half by a baring of teeth that could only be described as diabolical. And adorable, if you didn't live with her.
"Alby…"
He swallowed.
"I found you!"
Albus smiled as his little sister poked him in the back.
"Yep, you got me."
He was nervous- aside from the usual worries most first years would have, he found himself in a bit of a dilemma. He was bright, great at art (gifted, Aunt Hermione had said, but that sounded a tad too obnoxious in his opinion), and a match to even James on a broom, if he pushed himself.
But there was that one thing… That one thing that he feared would ruin everything, that one, most threatening flaw that just wouldn't go away.
That's why, for the past week, Albus had made sure to keep busy, staying active from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the time he closed them every night. That way, he didn't have to think about it. Whether it was immersing himself in his art, helping his mum with chores ('Mama's Boy' was now painted in Everlasting Ink on his door, courtesy of James), reading one of Aunt Hermione's grotesquely bloated and convoluted texts, improving his speed on a broom- even playing with Lily -he made sure that he gave himself no time to think about it.
It was working so far.
Crawling out from under the kitchen table, Albus felt weightless, without a care. Lily's neat little head of bobbed, bright red hair followed him out, the green bow she wore giving her head the appearance of a large strawberry. She giggled (with a slightly manic undertone- Albus hoped she'd grow out of that) and tackled her brother, knocking him flat onto his back with a loud whumph!
"Let's play animals," she piped, beaming.
There was a small, black hole amongst her pearly whites. She was missing a tooth. Albus rolled his eyes, fighting back a smile. James had been teasing him about this, too, but Albus had (coolly, he hoped) brushed it off as him being jealous because Lily liked him better. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing for Albus, but James didn't need to hear all that, now did he?
"No, Lily, that's for little kids."
"No it isn't! Me and Hugo play it all the time!"
Albus rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, taking care to exaggerate his faux reluctance.
"Alright, alright, I'll do it," he surrendered.
She whooped in triumph, rolling off of him and immediately crouching down on her hands and knees, all while making a high pitched squeaking noise.
She scurried. Jumped. Twitched.
Albus sat up slowly, rubbing at the sore back of his head, and raised an eyebrow at the display. Lily was doing a wonderful impression of a mouse … an unfortunate little mouse in the process of having a seizure. The little girl scampered back over to him.
He braced himself.
"Pretend you're a kitty!"
That was Lily for you, Albus thought. You had to expect the unexpected. Or things broke. Even James feared the destructive force that the small female could harbor. The entire Potter family would probably be banned from at least a score of public places were it not for his father's reputation as the Savior of the Wizarding World. This in mind, he did the only reasonable thing to do.
"…Meow." he said.
"You'renot trying hard enough!" she accused, pointing a plump little finger at him.
He rolled his eyes again. He loved his sister. Really. He did. But she was becoming more and more like his mother as each day passed. Knowing his mother, though, he quickly came to the conclusion that it was in his best interest to just go along with what Lily wanted him to do. Otherwise… he decided not to think about it.
"What should I do, then?"
Lily paused for a moment, brown eyes gazing at the ceiling as she hummed in thought. The pause didn't last very long.
"Close your eyes," she demanded.
He closed his eyes, although with some hesitation.
James was around here somewhere, and if he caught him with his eyes closed, only the worst could be expected. Hideous situations flashed like lightning in his mind- James bringing his foot crashing down onto Albus's stomach while Lily laughed, James pouring something onto his head while Lily laughed, James slipping something equally unpleasant down his shirt while Lily positively threw a fit, and many other horrible, horrible occurrences.
But Lily was waiting, and there was that whole destructive force thing to consider.
"Now, think like a kitty! Feel what the kitty feels!"
She paused, giving him a long, mousy stare to make sure he understood the significance of her shrill commands.
"Bethe kitty, Alby!"
"Lily, I don't think-"
"Be the kitty!"
Albus frowned.
Still frowning, he screwed his eyes shut and tried to focus on what it felt like to 'be the kitty'. He felt incredibly stupid, felt himself blush with embarrassment. Why was Lily so stubborn? He tried to concentrate on "being the kitty" before his face reached the same shade as his sister's hair. All he could think of was a dusty old picture of Aunt Hermione's old cat, Crooksankz, or Tookshanks or something.
He was still trying to remember the blasted thing's name when a disorienting wave of vertigo struck him, causing him to sway. The previous (relative) quiet of the kitchen seemed different- like the loud, not-silence one would experience underwater. His nose felt odd. A barrage of strong scents suddenly assaulted his nostrils, causing him to wrinkle the offended appendage. Maybe he was having a really wicked migraine?
Despite this, his eyes remained adamantly shut, lest he incur the wrath of his younger sibling. Then he heard Lily giggle. He sighed in relief. Figuring she was satisfied, and he'd humiliated himself for her amusement for just about long enough, he opened his eyes.
And blinked.
Lily was… taller.
Actually, everything seemed a bit taller. Al tried to frown, but it didn't feel right. His left ear swerved to the side in a confused gesture.
Wait.
His ears didn't swerve.
He looked down. There, on the scuffed wooden floor, was Lily's tiny black shoe, and in front of it (where, by all rights, his shoebloody well should have been) was a large, furry paw- much bigger than an ordinary house cat's, but unmistakably feline. He gasped, but it came out as more of a muffled yowl.
Lily screamed with laughter, staring at Al with a wicked glee. He was frozen with shock. Paralyzed, even as his little sister proceeded to pet him roughly, burying her small hands in the thick, varying shades of caramel, black, and white that was his fur.
Slanted green eyes with slitted pupils snapped over to the wall behind Lily.
The door was opening.
Harry Potter entered the kitchen.
"Hey Lily, keep it… down…"
Albus couldn't move. This couldn't be happening. This was just a dream, a bad, bad-
"Lily, get over here," said Harry. His voice was very quiet.
-bad, baddream!
"But Daddy!" Lily whined, "We're playing animals! Alby is the kitty, can't you see?"
Albus tried to calm himself. Lily had, with some reluctance, abandoned her brutal petting to trudge over to Harry's side, sulkily dragging her feet. He felt his tail- a short, fluffy thing - twitch slightly as he closed his eyes, frantically attempting to return to his natural bipedal state. Think like Al, he thought. Feel what Al feels. Be the Al.
There was no embarrassment this time- only desperation.
"Albus?"
Slowly, he opened one eye, shoving a hand into his immediate field of vision. It was just that- a hand. No fur. A joyous grin nearly split his face in half, relief flooding into him until he felt drowned in it, overwhelmed. He'd almost forgotten who else was in the room when he heard Lily's disappointed whine.
He looked up at his dad, a blush creeping up to stain cheeks that had been whiskered just a few moments ago.
"Albus," Harry started, the words coming out almost excruciatingly slowly, "Why… how... you... a lynx?"
How was he supposed to answer that? He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried again.
"Er… You see, Dad, I just… I mean…"
This was hopeless. He tried one more time, blurting the first thing that came to mind…
"Lily made me do it!"
…and instantly regretted it.
There was a long moment of silence in which Albus hoped against hope that maybe he'd miraculously discover the ability to become invisible, or maybe go back in time, or just open up a hole in the earth to swallow him whole. Because apparently, this was his personal bloodyday for that sort of thing to happen.
Harry blinked, and cleared his throat.
The silence returned.
How many times a day do you run into this kind of situation, where someone really really really cares, maybe more than they should, about what you think? Not many?Then take advantage of this one. Review, pretty please!