Never Again

By Catty-the-spy

---

People think that I am like my parents. They are wrong. I am nothing like my parents. I am not like my sister or brother. I am not like anyone in my entire family.

They do not like me.

They do not like that I am in Slytherin. They pretend to but they do not. They do not like that I have a problem in my brain. I do not like it either. They make me feel stupid. I am not. They do not like that I prefer muggle contacts. The do not like that I dyed my hair electric blue when I got the money. They do not like that I listen to muggle music. They do not like that I wear muggle clothes. They do not like that I am good at Runes and better at Divination. They do not like that I see visions. Sometimes they think that I am crazy. They are wrong. They do not like my friends. I don't care. I outgrew my cousin Rose a long time ago. They cannot accept that.

My name is Albus Severus Potter. I am fifteen years old.

--

The skinny young man watched the sun rise, as was his habit on weekdays. His hair was still mussed from sleep and he wore his nightclothes.

In the room behind him his classmates stirred, grudgingly preparing for the long day ahead.

The young man didn't move as a tall blonde came over. He spoke softly. "I had the vision again."

The blonde frowned. "Did you Al? The one with the storm?"

"Yes. They won't stop dieing."

The blonde leaned against the window sill, staring into the room. "I keep telling you not to worry about it. They're halfway around the world. Did you tell Trelawney?"

Al nodded. "She said to use the meditation. I tried. It didn't work." He frowned, leaning into the glass that kept him from falling. "I can still hear them screaming."

"Did you take the potion before you went to sleep?"

"Yes. It didn't work either. It tasted bad. Their screams were muffled. They didn't go away."

They sat in silence for a while, the blonde's response a comforting touch on his friend's shoulders, as he observed his classmates preparing for the day, Albus continuing to watch the sun.

"Scorpius?"

"Yes Al?"

"Is Madame Pomfrey making us do the checkups again?"

Scorpius shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. Why?"

"She's going to send a letter to my parents again. They'll make me see the mind healer."

Scorpius scowled. "That's what got you like this in the first place."

Albus shrugged a shoulder distractedly. "It's not their fault. They didn't know it was the truth. They thought I was lying."

Scorpius kept himself from commenting further. It was pointless to argue a point with his friend. His monotonous answers wouldn't change.

Instead he pulled him from the window. "Come on. We need to get ready."

Albus didn't complain.

The Slytherins were housed in a forgotten wing of the castle, due to violent attacks on them following the Second War on the Dark. Although Headmistress McGonagall arranged for the change, it was the Castle herself who chose the rooms. The headmistress had never even seen the inside; therefore she had no clue as to the advantage given to the shady members of the most disgraced house.

The years were housed in separate large rooms, each with its own alcoves- two beds per alcove- girls on one side, boys on the other, and a comfortable common area in the centre.

In each of the seven common areas- as well as in the General Common Room- there were portraits of every headmaster Hogwarts had ever had.

During the five years they had spent in Slytherin Hall, Scorpius had been grateful for these portraits, especially as Healer after Healer made Al's condition worse.

He'd relied on the combined wisdom of the Four Founders, Headmaster Dumbledore and Headmaster Snape to keep Albus alive and functional.

Unfortunately, all knew that the youth would never be able to survive on his own.

Auriel Zabini took charge of Albus during Transfiguration and Charms, because Scorpius was seated on the other side of the room; Frederic Nott had him during Herbology and Potions. When Albus has a particularly bad vision in class, the teachers excused them both, used to these events, and whispered to each other about what a shame it was that such a bright young boy had ended up this way.

Albus had had visions all his life. They had slowly gotten more powerful and more frequent. When he reached age eight, they took him to the first of what became many healers. At first, they had simply said that he would grow out of it. Midway through his first year, though, they had started to seriously believe he was deranged. Each healer gave him potions and preformed spells. Each procedure left him worse off than before.

If he and Scorpius hadn't been friends, Albus would have probably killed himself by accident, or been killed by the Mind Healers who weren't bright enough to see that they had turned a perfectly sane child into a loony.

Albus stared at his plate at lunch, frowning at his food. He didn't like the patterns painted on his plate. They made him think of the storm he kept seeing in his visions, the one that killed so many people, the one that killed his….

"Al, do you want me to mix it up for you? You don't look to happy with it."

Albus transferred his eyes to his friend. "Yes. Please. I can see the storm in it. I don't like it."

Scorpius took his fork and swirled the foods around, mixing them into a different colour and shape.

Albus smiled. This was a picture he liked. It was a picture of him and Scorpius as adults. This was a vision he'd had since he'd entered puberty.

The blonde at his side gave his friends a reassuring squeeze, and Albus started to eat.

He wanted the vision he was eating now to come true.

--

My teachers thought that I was a prodigy. I was very smart when I first came to Hogwarts. I had visions. They were blurry and they hurt. My parents didn't believe me and took me to a Mind Healer. The Healer said a spell and performed a ritual. The visions were even more blurry and they hurt worse.

I dyed my hair blue when I was thirteen. My friends did research. They found out that blue sharpened a Seer's visions. They suggested it. I liked it.

I like talking to the headmasters. They don't think I'm crazy. They help me make sense of what I see. I like Hogwarts. She's more of a mother than Ginny Potter. She listens to me. She doesn't ignore me. She doesn't let people hurt me.

I am more at home at Hogwarts than I am at home.

--

"Come on Al. We got Madame Pomfrey's letter. We know that you're doing worse."

"Go away!"

Scorpius stood by his friend, holding his hand as he glared at his parents. This happened every year about this time. Madame Pomfrey would send a letter informing the families of the students (read: Slytherins) of their health and mental status. To the Potter's, her word was law and an official diagnosis. Scorpius always hated these times. Albus would scream and shout, and though all of the Slytherins joined together to fight against it, Harry Potter would drag the poor boy away to have more poison shoved into his system, leaving it to Scorpius to put him back together when he came back to school, worse than he had ever been before.

The Slytherins as a whole had nothing against Madame Pomfrey. The examinations weren't her idea, and she only sent home facts (your child gained/lost this much weight, grew this tall, etc.). They placed their hate where it belonged.

"Don't draw this out Albus! We don't have time…"

"I don't want to go!"

"Dammit boy! You do this every year! Get your arse over here and shut your mouth!"

"Leave me alone!"

Scorpius knew that the anger brought on visions. He stood as a silent rock for the shorter youth to lean on. He wouldn't interfere: this was his battle to fight.

"Albus don't fucking do this!"

The portraits on the walls screamed abuse. Potter, partially insane himself when he got into one of his rages, turned to return the favour. "No one cares about your opinions you fucking morons! Shut your traps and stay out of what isn't any of your business!"

Scorpius could sense violence in the air and stepped in front of his panting friend to shield him from whatever harm Mr. Potter sent his way.

Occasions like this were why his father fought so hard to put wizarding children in wizarding families. If the Saviour of the Wizarding World had grown up in a wizarding family, he would have recognized the limits of magical medicine. If he had grown up with wizards, he would have recognized earlier that his child was a seer in need of training instead of medication. If he had grown up with wizards, maybe he wouldn't have been abused.

Scorpius remembered reading in a muggle book that sometimes, abused children abused their kids when they were adults, because they didn't know how not to. Scorpius tended to absorb information gathered from muggle books at a distance, but this seemed to be an instance where muggles were right.

Harry Potter violently sent Scorpius crashing to the floor and made a grab for his son, who had been quickly hidden behind the remaining fifth years.

He stared at the young adults in his way. The women and men glared back, they're eyes saying rather plainly, "We dare you."

Harry Potter took that challenge.

Many of the headmasters went to fetch McGonagall. The other Slytherins pitched in to assist the fight against the crazed Man Who Defeated Voldemort. By the time he finally laid a finger on his son, all of the children were injured in someway.

Scorpius had risen from the writhing mass of children to hold tight to his friend, refusing to let his best friend be dragged off by his maniac of a father.

Albus was screaming.

"Go away! Stop it! Stop it! MOMMY!!!"

Everything was still. Harry Potter was bound on the floor.

The Slytherins stared at each other, wounds healed, looking neat and clean as if nothing had happened.

Albus clung to Scorpius as if his life depended on it, his quiet sobs the only sound over the breathing of the shocked students.

Draco Malfoy entered the General Common Room with a number of aurors, and frowned at the scene that met his eyes. "We got wind of an attack on some students here. Why is Auror Potter on the floor?"

Godric Gryffindor cleared his throat and spoke up from his portrait. "I think we could clarify that. If you could enter the room to your left?"

In front of the fire, Scorpius rubbed Al's shoulders, whispering to his sleeping companion. "He won't hurt you anymore. I promise I won't let him."

--

I see visions. I am a seer. I sometimes see metaphors in my visions. My vision of a storm was a metaphor. It was a metaphor of my father attacking my friends. My friends screamed. The vision came true. I lost my father. He's in Azkaban for hurting all of those students. I don't miss him.

I stay with Scorpius. My guardian is technically my mother. She doesn't care that I stay with Scorpius. I remind her too much of father. I'm glad I do.

My other vision also came true. I love Scorpius and Scorpius loves me.

--

A blue haired young man stared out of his bedroom window, watching the sun rise as was his habit. His hair was still mussed from sleep and he still wore his nightclothes. In the room behind him his bonded stirred, getting ready for the day to come. The young man fixed his emerald eyes on the sun, content.

A tall blond wrapped his arms around him, resting his chin on top of his head. He spoke softly. "I had the vision again."

The blonde sighed. "Did you? The one with the flower?"

"Yes. It opened and it sang to me. I can't remember the words. It was about the world."

"Did the vision hurt?"

"No."

The blonde yawned. "Good then. Do you know what it means?"

"Not yet."

They sat in silence for a while, eyes set on the rising sun. The blond let his grey eyes focus on the glass of the window and looked at their reflections. Al's blue was growing out.

He smiled fondly and straitened, pulling his bonded away from the window. "Come on, let's go eat."

Albus nodded and smiled.

--

My name is Albus Severus Malfoy. I am twenty years old.

Fin

With Love,

Catty-the-spy