a/n: I've wanted to do an Albus/Scorpius pretty much ever since Deathly Hallows came out (even just so I could call it ASS) . . . God knows I must be mental to be taking on another chapter story—this one is purely for my own comic relief, though, so it won't be number one priority. But here it is. (First portion blatantly stolen directly from JKR's epilogue).
Some Sort of Mix Up
"What if I'm in Slytherin?"
"Albus Severus, you were named for two headmasters of Hogwarts. One of them was a Slytherin and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew."
"But just say—"
"—then Slytherin House will have gained an excellent student, won't it? It doesn't matter to us, Al. But if it matters to you, you'll be able to choose Gryffindor over Slytherin. The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."
Scorpius flicked a strand of blond hair out of his eyes as he sat on the creaking, three-legged stool with an elegant and affected carelessness that only eleven years of living as the son of Draco Malfoy could have taught him.
His palms were sweating bullets.
Malfoy, is it? the Hat whispered in his head. This is certainly interesting. I remember your father—your grandfather—your great-grandfather—your—
Merlin, I get the picture! Scorpius thought. All of my ancestors have been to Hogwarts and they've all been in Slytherin. Why is this taking so long?
Yes, the Hat told him. Yes, those of the Malfoy clan do traditionally end up in Slytherin House.
Exactly, Scorpius replied. So would you please just go ahead and put me in—
Al swallowed, palms sweating as he clumsily made his way to the stool. The Stool. On top of which perched the Hat.
He felt the ragged, patched-up Sorting Hat placed on his head and all he could do was wring his sweaty hands anxiously and hope that "Perkins, Zachary!" didn't have lice.
Hmm, he heard the Hat's voice in his head. Very interesting, indeed. Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting your brother a year ago—Potter and Weasley blood, eh? Well, well.
That's good, right? Albus thought. My parents were both Gryffindor. And so were their parents. And James is Gryffindor, too.
Yes, the Hat told him. Yes, you are quite right. I know just where to put you.
Oh, thank Merlin, Albus thought with an outward sigh of relief. My dad was right, after all. You wouldn't believe it, but I was so worried you'd put me in—
Albus' first dinner at the Slytherin House table was nothing short of painfully awkward.
"Erm—hello," he said to the husky brunet on his right. "I'm Al Potter. Umm—I didn't quite catch your—"
"Potter?" the boy said with a sneer. "As in Harry Potter?"
"Erm—y-yes," Al said. "He's—my father."
The boy bared his teeth menacingly. "Your father landed my grandfather in Azkaban. Where he went mad and hanged himself."
Al took his glasses off and pretended to wipe off a smudge with his sleeve. "Well then—err—I still didn't quite catch your—"
"Goyle," the brunet growled. "Vince Goyle. Don't speak to me."
Scorpius took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.
Dinner—with the Gryffindors.
"Hello," the girl sitting next to him chirped, eyes bright and eager. "I'm Rose Weasley. And you are?"
Scorpius frowned, suspicious and slightly afraid of her rather perky behavior. "Scorpius Malfoy," he murmured. "Umm—it's a pleasure."
She tittered, running a hand through her bright red hair. "Oh, I know who you are, of course. I was just being polite. My dad pointed you out in the station earlier."
Scorpius suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Daddy told me to beat you in every test. He said not to get too friendly." She giggled. "Of course, I'm sure when he said that he imagined you'd be in Slytherin. Well—I'm terrifically excited to be in Gryffindor, aren't you? Such a relief, don't you know—I'm just giddy. Poor Al, though."
"Poor me," Scorpius mumbled inaudibly.
The girl shook her head to herself. "James will give him such a hard time. Poor, poor Al."
"A Malfoy, huh?" the second-or-third-year boy sitting across from him said.
"Er—yes," he said. "Scorpius Malfoy."
"I've heard stories about that family," the boy said, narrowing his brown eyes. "Bad blood, the lot of you."
"Oh, James, don't be such a berk!" the girl—Rose—cried. She sniffed in indignation. "Just because his father and his father's parents supported Voldemort before Uncle Harry got rid of him—"
His stomach twisted. Scorpius bit the inside of his cheek and mentally repeated his father's mantra of Malfoys do not blush in public.
The nattering continued.
Malfoys do not blush in public.
"—and oh, yes, you're so right, Rosie," he heard the boy—James—say, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm so sorry. Why should a family full of nothing but the Darkest wizards say anythingabout his character? After all, Dark wizards aren't ever sorted into Gryffindor. Or perhaps you forgot Uncle Ron's story about that rat Petti—"
Malfoys do not burst into tears in public.
"Ah—so," Al said to the black-haired girl on his left, "were you—err—expecting to be sorted into Slytherin, then?"
"Obviously," the girl said. "Both sides of my family have been in Slytherin for generations. You, on the other hand—"
"What about me?" he demanded.
"Well, it certainly must have been unexpected. A Potter?" She scoffed. "The Slytherins will eat you alive," she stated plainly.
He gulped. "Err. Yes—umm—I'm a Potter—Al Potter—though I suppose you—ah—were aware of that already."
"Yes, how fascinating," she said, crinkling her nose in distaste. "Claire Zabini."
"Ah—lovely to meet you," Albus said.
The girl rolled her eyes and turned to her pudding. "There's clearly been some sort of mix up. Scorpius should really be here instead of you."
Please, please, please come and get me and take me home now. The Hat didn't listen and the Slytherins really scare me.
p.s. Could you please not put anyone else in Azkaban for a while? Just incase they're related to one of my housemates. Especially no one named Goyle, please.
I request that you send Twinky to escort me home immediately. The Sorting Hat is obviously growing senile and has placed me in a House full of do-gooders with toffee for brains.
And the Gryffindors really scare me.
p.s. I would greatly appreciate if you refrained from acquiring any more skull-and-snake tattoos, as your first one has been causing me a rather good deal of trouble lately.
His first night in the Gryffindor dormitories, Scorpius found himself subjected to the most excruciating torture—inane chatter.
"What kind of a name is Lovegood?" one of Scorpius' Gryffindor dorm mates asked another.
"Oh, it's my mother's name," the darker boy replied dreamily. "Of course, usually when a child is born it's given its father's surname, but my parents think that that tradition is old-fashioned and patriarchal, so they decided to alternate their surnames between us. I have two little sisters, so right now we've got three Lovegoods in the family and only two Thomases, but Mum's planning on having one more to even things—"
He didn't get to sleep.
His first night in the Slytherin dormitories, Albus huddled under his blankets and closed the drapes around his bed, leaving open only a tiny crack from which he watched Vince Goyle's bed warily.
He didn't get to sleep.
I'm terribly sorry that the Hat didn't take your opinion into consideration as it did mine, but your mother and I are still extremely proud of you and have no intentions of removing you from Hogwarts.
Despite what James might tell you, the Slytherins really aren't all that bad. Most do not, in fact, grow up to become evil Dark overlords. I trust you'll eventually make friends in Slytherin House, but if you feel uncomfortable at first, I'm sure that Rosie—I hear she's been put in Gryffindor—or James would be happy to show you the location of the Gryffindor common room.
p.s. Being an Auror, I'm sorry to say that I cannot simply stop making arrests. However, I can tell you that I highly doubt I will be throwing Gregory Goyle into Azkaban anytime soon. So his son's as imposing as he was at that age, I take it?
Suck it up. Twinky remains here to serve me my tea and fetch me my robe. I simply cannot spare her.
I believe you'll eventually find that not all Gryffindors have toffee for brains, despite their obnoxious moral austerity and overblown savior complexes. I can personally vouch for your own lack of toffee in the cranial area, at the very least.
I will also state that the Sorting Hat is over a thousand years old, and therefore I would imagine that if it hadn't already grown completely senile by the time I was at Hogwarts then it likely is not doing and will never do so.
p.s. The damned thing caused me a rather good deal of trouble myself, once. I'll promise you this—the day I mar my otherwise perfect skin with another tacky thing like that is the day you receive my full permission to have me committed to St. Mungo's Permanent Residents' Ward.
Albus had suffered the intimidating glares and frigid disregard of his housemates.
He had suffered the cruel taunting of his brother and the pity-filled glances of his cousin.
And, as Scorpius Malfoy grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty corridor, Al thought he would be damned if he suffered anything on behalf of this Slyther—err—Malfoy prat.
"What do you want?" Al uncharacteristically snapped.
The blond boy rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm as thrilled about all this as you are," he said. "Rather unfortunately, my father has refused to have me removed from Hogwarts—has it in his mind that I need to acquire a basic magical education in order to make any progress in life, or some such shite as that."
"Er—yeah," Albus murmured, surprised to stumble upon this common ground. "My dad wouldn't take me home, either."
"Well, then," Scorpius said, "we'll have to sort this out on our own. There's clearly been some sort of mix up."
"That—ah—that's just what Claire Zabini said."
The blond's face brightened. "You've talked to Claire?"
"Err—in a sense," Al replied.
Scorpius pursed his lips. "Well, anyway," he said, continuing with his original train of thought, "it's rather apparent that you should be in Gryffindor with the toffee brainers and I should be in Slytherin with Claire. I've come up with a plan, in any case—that is, if you're not going to be a wet blanket about it."
"Plan?" he said suspiciously.
"It's simple, even for you Gryffin—err—Potter types," Scorpius assured him. "We can just switch places. We'll exchange passwords and robes—red and gold do nothing for my complexion, really—and I can live with the Slytherins while you live with the Gryffindors—sleeping in their dorms and sitting at their table and all of that. We'll attend each others' classes—of course, we'll do our own homework and take our own exams, because I certainly don't trust you with that—and we'd only tell our closest friends what's really going on, of course, but—well, in essence we'd just be switching Houses."
Al pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I'm pretty sure that switching Houses isn't—umm—allowed," he said. "Don't you think the teachers would notice?"
"Of course it isn't allowed," Scorpius said with a sneer. "And of course the teachers would notice. That's why we've got some preparing to do before the plan can come into effect. If you're not afraid, that is."
"Preparing for—what?" Al frowned. "I'm not exactly following."
The blond boy grinned mischievously. "Have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion?"
a/n: Any interest, or should I nip it in the bud?