In The Making

Year One: Snake Trials

Chapter One: Silver and Green

"A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be." - Abraham Maslow

"Oh god, James, what did you do to him?"

"Jeez, Rose, calm yourself, it's just a little prank—"

"That's so horrible, look at you, Dear!"

"C'mon, now, he was being rude, just sitting in the corner reading like a wallflower—"

"You're the one being rude," Fred cut in, frowning at his best friend and sighing. "Albus was minding his own, and you had to go turn him green."

The dark-skinned boy was speaking quite literally. James had sent a paper butterfly flying over the youngest male Potter's way and the moment the boy had reached up to touch it—it had bled green ink all over his hand. Over the course of the next ten seconds or so, the magic had seeped over every inch of skin he had. Albus Severus Potter was just as emerald as his eyes now.

"Oh, don't be a spoil sport, Freddy," James grinned, "It'll wear off before we get to the feast."

"You don't think I know that?" Fred huffed, exasperated. Albus knew that he, too, enjoyed his pranks –he was his father's son, after all— but he usually knew what was good natured fun and what wasn't. Albus was already nervous enough about his first year without James's help. "It is my father's invention."

"Oh, Dear, here…" Molly licked her thumb and rubbed at that raven haired boy's cheek, who blushed furiously as she did so.

"It's not going to wash away, Mol," Rose informed her good naturedly. She met Albus's eyes and giggled, "You look like Christmas, blushing like that, Al."

"…Oh hush," He mumbled, not liking the way his cheek felt after Molly had rubbed saliva on it. But he felt it would be rude to rub his cheek dry in front of her.

Albus closed the book he'd been reading, setting it in his lap and trying to keep his gaze away from the window so that he wouldn't have to face his ridiculous reflection.

"I'm just playing with you, Bro, you know that." James told him, reaching across the compartment and punching the petite boy's arm with a wink.

"That doesn't make it right." Rose snapped at him, glaring at the older boy. He looked more like his father in the face, already growing into a square jaw, though his auburn hair was curly, something he'd gotten from his grandmother.

"It's fine…at least it will wear off."

"I got you, though, didn't I?" James laughed boisterously, "You haven't fallen for one of my pranks in a while. Usually you get all Slytherin on me and make it blow up in my face somehow."

"Yeah, you got me." Albus replied, forcing a smile in his older brother's direction. He could hear Molly harrumph out of the corner of his eye and cross her soft arms over her chest.

Molly also had curly hair like the woman she was named after, a shade of vibrant red. Percy had been the only Weasley in the entire batch to marry another redhead, and it seemed she had gotten double the ginger as a result with a face full of freckles to boot. She was a wholesome looking girl, and Albus always got the impression of apple pie when he looked at her.

Rose, on the other hand, while also a redhead (albeit a darker shade), was tall for her age and her thin frame did nothing but accentuate it. She had retained much of her mother's features, as well as the frizzy texture of her hair, but unlike the bookworm she knew how to take care of it.

"I might be able to undo it, if you want, Albus," Rose said suddenly, digging through the never-ending purse that her mother had made for her. "I know my mom gave me a book on how to counter-jinx almost all of the Weasley toys—not that I've read it or anything, but….y'know, I could probably find it for you."

Albus gave her a sweet, genuine smile. "Thanks, Rose, but don't worry yourself with it, yeah? I'll just wait till it wears off."

Rose looked dubious for a moment, but rolled her big brown eyes

"You're both despicable," Molly told the two second year students sitting across from her. She was the oldest of the group, with two full years of Hogwarts schooling under belt, and certainly acted the part.

"What? I didn't do anything." Fred claimed, aghast at the accusation. "That was all James."

"That was all James," Molly repeated suspiciously.

"That's what I just said, isn't it? Jeez, woman, just 'cause he's my mate doesn't mean I'm in on all his devious little plans—"

"Oh yes, it does."

"Will the two of you cut it out?" Rose groaned, her head falling back to look at the ceiling. "You both fight like an old married couple. And you're cousins, so that's gross."

"Rose!" Was the older girl's indignant, disgusted reply.

"Oh, shut up," Fred growled at her, raking his hand over the short dreadlocks that he had started growing in the first year of Hogwarts.

James snickered and nodded at Albus as though to get his attention. Ablus, who had never lost awareness of the situation to begin with, glanced at him.

His older brother just burst out laughing, "I was gonna ask if-hahahahaha-you wanted to play exploding snap but—hahahahah—you just look ridiculous! Oh Merlin, hahahahaha-!"

Albus released his breath slowly and stood up, "I'm going to go look for Lorcan and Lysander."

"Looking like that?" Rose balked, then blushed herself for blurting it out so openly. Albus just nodded at her and shrugged in response.

"Well, it's what I look like right for the moment, so…yes."

"Good luck with that, Al," James snickered, straightening his glasses. They were black and circular, just like their father's had been when he was young. It was as though he wanted to be compared with the man. His eyes were brown and his hair light, so although the shape of his face and the sharp angle of his nose was more like the Harry Potter's, Albus was the one who was always compared to the war hero. James, for some reason, resented that about him.

Albus really couldn't understand it.

"If those Hufflepuffs start boring you, you can always come back," James declared as Albus slid the door open. As he was closing it behind him, he heard his brother jeer, "Perhaps I should have dyed him canary yellow instead?"

The now green-skinned boy hugged his book to his chest and glared at the ground in the empty hallway. Green, then, had been chosen for a reason. Of course, he could have guessed that. He adjusted the tome in his hold and started down the hall, listening intently for a quiet compartment, preferably where he could continue reading for the next few hours that still remained of the trip. He did enjoy Lorcan and Lysander's company, but they were certainly not the people to go to when one wasn't in the mood for noise.

He was nearly bumped into a by a few older students at some point, though he quietly let them pass as they ran down the hall, seemingly on their way to join a small party at the front of the train, if what he gathered by their chatter was anything to go by.

"Oh gosh, poor thing. What'chu thing happened to him?"

"Probably some Gryffindor prank. Idiots, the lot of them."

True that, Albus found himself thinking before he could stop himself, and he pressed his palm to his forehead with a moan. I didn't mean that. I really didn't.

Would the Sorting Hat see that?

Would it refuse to listen to his plea based on that thought alone?

No, he decided as he continued his trek down the long hall, the train rumbling beneath his loafers, the Hat had years of other examples for why he belonged in Slytherin. Sometimes he felt like his entire life was a giant example for why he should be in Slytherin.

For instance, the fact that he had been intercepting most of James's practical jokes for the last four years of his life. Albus was a smart one, smarter than he let anyone know, and that in itself was a Slytherin trait. He didn't want to give away all of his secrets; he kept his intelligence to himself so as to avoid questions. To avoid attention. He was a timid boy but that did not mean that he could not lie when it suited him.

And, to be honest, lying suited him a lot.

James was the kind of person that demanded attention, whether or not it was good. He had collected a degree of both during his life and his first year at Hogwarts. One of the better things he'd managed to make the papers for was being made seeker as a first year, just like his father had. Of course, he had been made seeker because of who he was rather than talent…not that Albus was ever say that out loud. However, James had also managed to get suspended for sneaking out of the castle and into the Forbidden Forest on a dare. Fred had helped in the endeavor, but James had wanted all the credit. Therefore Fred had given it to him.

Anyone that took attention away from James would be the target of whatever foolish prank he decided was a suitable punishment for besting him.

In James's opinion, looking like Albus did, with his messy ink black hair and his startling, large green eyes, was asking for it.

Which was why he'd allowed James to get away with turning him green instead of saying the counter spell that he was well aware of that would have made the butterfly return to its owner.

Not that the image of a green James wasn't amusing as all hell.

Besides, Albus wasn't the kind to hog anything, let alone the limelight. His father's stories of how fame had always annoyed him had struck a chord within his mind. He didn't need to be special or different.

Well, scratch that. He was different, but not one needed to know that.

Being in Slytherin would not help matters.

It wasn't as though he was prejudiced. The war had ended almost twenty years ago, and he himself was more than Halfblooded. His father had taught him well never to hate anyone until they gave you a reason to, and even then, do your best not to. It wasn't about pride. Completely disregarding the fact that he would be completely alone in Slytherin because the entirety of his family was in Gryffindor, because that was a small part of it…it was mostly about not stirring the settled cauldron. James was relatively dormant, but the moment Albus started being his own person—something not even the older boy had managed—the older Potter would escalate.

Albus didn't want to…tickle the sleeping dragon, as it were.

Harry Potter's son in Slytherin would certainly be doing just that.

When he finally found an empty compartment, he was too slow opening the door and an older couple manhandled their way into it before he could. The girl giggled as her boyfriend pushed her down onto one of the seats, her skirt riding up in a fashion that had the young Potter looking away abruptly with his face lighting up red.

Standing in the doorway, the Ravenclaw adolescent (probably a sixth year, if Albus had to guess) winked at him.

"Sorry, kiddo, Dalia here needs help changing into her robes. You understand don't you?" The older boy smirked and waved condescendingly.

Then promptly slammed the door in Albus's green face.

This was not his day.

He stared at the door of his usurped compartment for a long moment, before beginning to look once more. He was nearing the end of the train when he reached a compartment that seemed peaceful enough. Of course, it could be someone using a silencing charm.

Well, he would never know until he tried. He pushed the door open.

The scene there should not have been as shocking as it was. It was a lone boy around his age if Albus had to guess, with his trunk set in the center of the compartment between the seats with a chessboard on top. However, the boy was astounding blond, which had Albus nearly turning on his heel, hoping he could move fast enough that the other preteen would think he was an apparition.

He was obviously a Malfoy.

Albus was not so idiotic as to not be able to tell. In fact, he was quite the opposite. The platinum hair, the crisp robes, the single cocked eyebrow when his gaze traveled over to the intruder—

"Ahh—" The train hit a bump, and Albus was sent flying, his slight form actually leaving the ground with the force of it. He did a belly flop onto the seat across from the blond, wincing as his book dug into his hip. He peered up at Malfoy, who didn't look all that amused, and pushed himself up, stumbling for something to say.

"Adglutino humanus." Albus blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Gesundheit," Malfoy deadpanned.

"Ah—no, no, I mean…that's the spell you used on you chessboard so the pieces wouldn't fall." Albus pushed himself up into a sitting position, flushing darkly once more. "Otherwise that bump would have scattered your game. It makes them stick in place unless human flesh touches them."

"…Ah." Brilliant, sky blue eyes flickered down at the board. Albus had seen pictures of Draco Malfoy in the paper before, and he remembered that his eyes were a dull, bluish grey. Nothing like this boy's eyes. "My father cast it for me."

"Oh." Albus said, rubbing the back of his neck and giving a shy grin, continuing to ramble. "Oh, of course. It's a fourth year spell, and I don't even think it's on their curriculum to learn anyway—"

"Then how did you know it?"

"Huh?"

"If it's a fourth year spell," Malfoy repeated, drawling, "How did you know it?"

Albus paused, and asked slowly, "I …don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I was fourteen."

The blue-eyed boy smirked, "Potter, I barely believe you're eleven."

"Oi," Albus snapped, annoyed at the insinuation. "I do so look eleven."

"Barely."

"Shove off."

"Sensitive, are we?"

"No, I am just very, very certain that I look eleven. Besides—" Albus cut himself off, realizing two things instantaneously. Firstly, that he was indeed acting as though he was sensitive, replying in such a defensive manner, and secondly…

…he had fallen into a rather playful, amiable repartee with Malfoy spawn.

"Besides?" The smirking boy prompted.

"Er," Albus paused, looking away and recalling that the other had called him 'Potter'. "So you… know who I am."

"Doesn't everyone?" Leaning back, the pale-haired boy regarded Albus in a fashion that made him even more nervous. "You knew who I was too. I could see it in your eyes."

"Yeah, well…you look like your father." Albus hated saying that. It was said to him enough that the phrase tasted like one of the worst Bertie Bots flavors imaginable.

"As do you," the young Malfoy replied flippantly, before chuckling, "Well, except for—"

"The scar." Albus finished for him bitterly. It was predictable at this point.

The smirk settled in even deeper. "I was going to say your skin."

"My sk-oh." Albus laughed at himself, surprised that the interaction had made him forget that he was still green from head to toe. "Yeah, that's my brother for you."

"Your brother painted you Slytherin green?"

"Yeah, he goes around saying that I'll be put in Slytherin for sure."

"That's nice of him."

"Of course you'd say that."

"Why, do you think of it as an insult?"

"Not exactly," Albus muttered, shrugging, "I don't know. On one hand, I'd like to break the pattern a bit. I think I'd…do well in Slytherin, but I don't think I want to call that much attention to myself. I mean, every kid in my family has been in the paper just for being born."

"I was too," said Malfoy.

"You were?" Albus blinked, suddenly interested.

"Yes." His voice took on a dull tone that Albus deduced was hiding irritation. " The headline was 'Death Eater Spawn, Miracle or Menace?'."

Albus flinched, "Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine." A mischievous smile played on his lips, "It poses a good question. Menace, I say, what do you think?"

Albus couldn't help but cackle at the words, "I think…I haven't introduced myself properly."

"No, you haven't." Malfoy sniffed in a faux-haughty way that the raven-haired boy couldn't help but find amusing. "It was really quite rude of you. I would have said something, but I figured you must be having one of those days, seeing as you're green."

"Yes, well," Albus grinned, holding out a hand for him. "Albus Potter."

"Scorpius Malfoy." The well-dressed wizard responded, taking the green hand in his own and shaking firmly.

They released a moment later. Albus settled his hand in his lap and brought his gaze back to the chessboard. It was a nice one, made of glass, one team was crystal clear while the other was opaque. Then it occurred to him, something that hadn't before.

"Is this a muggle set?"

"Caught on, did you?" He inquired, picking up his King and nodding, "I'm not much for them smashing each other. I prefer this kind."

"Really?" Albus asked, setting his book to the side and scooting closer to the edge of his seat, "Could I play?"

"I'm in the middle of a game, Potter." Scorpius drawled, though his eyes were playful.

"Yeah, with yourself."

"You have a point there, Potter." The blond assented with a sigh, setting the pieces back into place manually, "But just so you know, I don't lose."

What a coincidence, Albus thought mildly, because I don't win.

Of course, his family just thought him abysmal at chess, but Albus never really saw the good in winning. His father was horrible at chess, but other than that most of the people in the family were related to Ronald Weasley, therefore they were quite good at the game and didn't like to lose.

Albus was better than all of them.

The green-eyed boy found himself pitted against someone almost daily in his household. His parents weren't usually the one to goad him into it, but James enjoyed beating him and pitched a fit whenever he was beaten. So Albus lost to him. Lily, his gorgeous, sweet, little sister, was too enthusiastic about it for him to stomp into the ground. So Albus lost to her, as well. He threw in an occasional stalemate to mix things up, she was younger than him after all, and just grinned sheepishly when people scoffed at his obvious lack of skill.

This went for all his other aunts, uncles and cousins as well. He knew the personality of the person, and depending on their mood he would decide how badly they should beaten him. Everyone liked to win, and Albus usually had little interest in taking that away from them.

It was all about them.

This time, however, he didn't quite want to make a fool of himself for some reason. But he also sensed that Scorpius was a sore loser.

Stalemate it was, then.

The game progressed for about an hour. Scorpius was actually a brilliant player, probably better than all of his family, except for Uncle Ron, and so he allowed the boy to give him a run for his money. Albus could see ahead steps and steps, knowing that if he moved his bishop to the other end of the board, he could potentially make a check that would lead to a check mate in only a few moves. Scorpius saw that too and reacted accordingly. Nothing in the Malfoy's demeanor suggested panic at realizing the fault in play but his next several moves were that of a man grasping for life.

But Albus let him recover, and before long, the young Malfoy had capture three vital pieces including his precious queen. No matter how much he chased his piece, however, there was no possible way he could corner Albus's king with the few men he had left.

"Stalemate, then, yeah?" Albus asked, and a he caught the nod from the corner of his eye. He looked up at the silence, cocking his head curiously.

Those blue eyes were narrow.

"Again."

"Er, alright." Albus relented easily enough and helped reset for another game.

This game lasted longer than the one before it. It was slow, calculating, and as they weren't timing each other they were allowed to be. Albus could see twenty different paths to winning halfway through the game, but he resisted. This time it ended on more equal terms, with both kings standing alone on the barren surface of the board.

"So—" Albus started, about to stated the obvious.

"Stalemate." Scorpius muttered, voice hard. "Yeah."

He looked angry. Albus swallowed thickly and shifted in his seat. Maybe he should have let him win the second time.

"Do you want to—?"

Scorpius cut him off. "I'm finished with chess. Go back to reading whatever that is."

Albus stared for a moment at him, thinking about telling him that it was a book on advanced defensive spells, but that the cover of it had been spelled to read 'Elementary Charms' but he thought better of it. The smaller boy lowered his eyes, his stomach turning over in his abdomen. This was why he didn't win.

"Better yet," Scorpius crossed his arms over his chest, putting the chess set back in its case and snapping it shut so hard Albus recoiled a bit. "Go get dressed. We'll be arriving in the next twenty minutes."

"Oh—er…"

"You're not green anymore, by the way."

Albus looked down at his hands and nodded, though there was still a cold sensation in his stomach. He stood up and straightened his shirt slightly, picking up his book and fiddling with it.

Scorpius didn't look up.

"Well…ah, goodbye then. I'll—I guess I'll see you in the hall?"

"Hnm." The noise was neither affirmative nor negative, but Albus made himself leave the partition just the same. He'd screwed up out of a competitive streak that he hadn't even known was there.

What was wrong with him? He should have lost. He knew it. Maybe if he could play Malfoy again he could make him understand—

He made his way back to the compartment that held his cousins and siblings, gathering his uniform and pulling it on just as the train was starting to slow down. He felt the train quivering to a stop finally and, though he had intended to wait patiently for the bulk of students to pass, he instead found himself joining the masses piling out of the train. He nearly stumbled, separating from his brother once more as he did his best to look around, searching.

Unfortunately, he was at a height disadvantage.

"Oh, blimey—" Albus muttered, climbing onto a bench and managing to see the tall, thick figure of Rubeus Hagrid beckoning first years over.

Students were running into each other, though luckily the older students were headed to the carriages and were splitting away from the first years.

Finally, he spotted him, and he thanked Merlin that Malfoy had such a ludicrously noticeable hair color. If he'd been a brunette, Albus would have been doomed.

He jumped down and rushed over, excusing himself and apologizing as he ran into a few people and right passed the half-giant with a polite wave, before piling into the boat right after the blond. He panted, scrambling to seat himself at the taller wizard's side. Scorpius did not look impressed, lifting his chin when emerald orbs raised to meet him.

"I—uh, just wanted to ask…you why you're mad. It was a lucky break, after all, if you play me again I'm sure you'll win," Albus proposed quickly before he could be interrupted.

Malfoy sneered in a way that quite reminded Albus of the picture he'd seen in the paper of the boy's father. Had he been a fool to think he could be friends with someone like him?

"…You did it on purpose."

The response startled Albus, staring and stammering, "W—What?"

"I saw you. I was watching you the entire time. You think I wouldn't notice?" Scorpius snarled at him, grabbing the collar of Albus's shirt and pulling him in to whisper furiously, "Was that your clever way of calling me daft?"

"N—No, I wasn't—of course not!"

Clear blue eyes narrowed and burned into shocked green ones. "You're lying to me. I don't like it."

"I thought that's what Slytherin's did best," Albus couldn't help but retort, despite knowing what uneven ground he was on.

"So," Scorpius paused, considering him, "You admit you're a Slytherin at heart?"

"I never denied it," Albus stated, shifting and managing to pull away from the other. Scorpius willingly allowed him to retreat, still frowning.

"I suppose you didn't. I still don't like what you did."

"…Don't take it personally," Albus murmured, looking over his shoulder at the other children in the boat. They were too in awe of the castle and the ethereal glow of the moon on its stone walls to pay attention to the quarrel. Albus continued to explain meekly, " I—do it with everyone. Just don't tell, alright?"

There was a long silence on Scorpius' part.

"You…stalemate with everyone you play with?"

"Well, no," Albus sighed, admitting to him as he adjusted his collar, "Usually I lose."

There was another thoughtful moment of quiet where the movement of the water as it was shifted by the boat and the gasps of the other children were all to be heard.

"…Winning is one thing. Most people win with some strategy and a lot of luck—but being smart enough to know the game so well that you can dictate how the other person is going to win?" Scorpius whistled a long and slow whistle, "That's talent, Potter. No, that's more than talent, that is …bloody brilliant is what it is."

"Don't tell." Then, for good measure, Albus added, "Please, don't tell."

"…I won't, but only if you answer me this."Albus should have expected as much from a future Slytherin. He nodded hesitantly in approval. "If you usually let people win, why did you just stalemate me? Why didn't you just let me win?"

"Er…I don't know."

"Potter—" Scorpius warned.

"Fine then! Fine. I…" Albus averted his eyes and muttered, "I guess I just—didn't want to lose to you. I don't know why, I just—didn't want to be a loser, for once."

Albus paused and smiled embarrassedly, inserting wryly, "And I honestly didn't think you'd notice."

Scorpius took in his expression for a long moment, before sinking into a more relaxed position in the war hero offspring's company.

"You know, you aren't the only person trying to live in spite of the legacy of your father. I want to outshine mine…you want to too, just in a different way. You don't want to be known—which is something your father could never achieve."

Albus yanked his head up, blinking. "What?"

"You heard me." Scorpius muttered as he boat pulled up to the dock. He climbed out and the raven-haired boy followed, but his arm was suddenly taken by the Malfoy heir as he tugged him toward the great open doors, whispering in his ear, "Try not to over think things, Potter. I think Slytherin house would be proud to have you."

For some reason, that statement made Albus' stomach grow warm. It made him want to straighten his posture, made him want to smile…

…and in the end, it was probably what made him sit on that stool, knees trembling with apprehension as he let the Sorting Hat put him where it saw fit.

"SLYTHERIN!"

I'm very excited about this story and I would love to know what you think. Hopefully this will be a long one, depicting the long haul of Albus and Scorpius' seven years, maybe more.

Reviews make me write like mofo. XD Therefore...

Review please! You know you want to.

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