Found In the Past

21

Scorpius's POV:

"SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY!!!" My father shouts up the stairs, his voice ringing with the annoyance he usually reserves for people who don't park their brooms right. "DID YOU EAT ALL OF THE RAW COOKIE DOUGH?!?!?"

"YES!!!!" I shout back with no regret, licking more of said cookie dough off my fingers with a grin. I hear my father groan on the landing below me. I try to be quiet coming back downstairs again, but the tell-tale creaking of the old wood gives me away. "Can we make more?" I ask with a small smile at the man covered in flour who's trying to glare at me. Father sighs and tries to wipe flour off of his cheek, failing miserably.

"After all that effort... what about we use magic this time, eh Scor?" He gives in, pulling out his hawthorn wand. A laugh escapes my lips as we catch sight of the globs of batter now stuck on his normally-pristine wand. Even with the lightened air, the memory of why I asked my father to hang out with me today claws a deep pit of worry in my stomach. I have to tell him the truth, but with his long, rather complicated history with Al's dad, this is bound to be awkward at the very least. My father shakes his wand out haughtily, oblivious to my worry, and fakes a glare at me. "Not a word."

"Okay," I mock salute him, leaning on the railing. My grandmother is out shopping with some old friends, so it's just me and my father alone in the house. I hop down the rest of the stakes and head over to the messy kitchen to pull out some more ingredients from the pantry.

"Blast it, these stains will never come out," my father complains while following after me, rolling his eyes as he examines his black robes. Well. They used to be black robes...

"Magic," I comment, wiggling my eyebrows and mimicking his serious tone of voice.

"Oh..." he looks up, a slightly sheepish smile on his face, "Right. Making a second batch of dough, ingredients???"

I also am further educated on the art of creative curse words as batter enjoys attacking my father's blonde hair immensely. By the time we get actual cookies in the oven, we're both covered in every ingredient and I just want to fall back onto my bed. But I have to tell him.

"Let's leave the baking to my mother next time, okay Scor?" He tells me, wiping his forehead.

"Works for me," I give him a small smile before looking back at our messy work space, surveying the damage.

"Clean later?" My father chuckles, reading my mind.

"That also works for me."

"On that note... Your grandmother mentioned you wanted to tell me something?" He asks, his forehead creasing slightly. I can see the worry lines etched into his face, but I doubt it has anything on the anxiety eating my stomach now that the cookie dough is no longer in front of me.

"R-right," I stutter nervously, playing with my shirt buttons out of habit. "I... it's about fancying someone," I decide to start with.

"Oh well I know that," he waves his hand dismissively and I feel my mouth hit the floor.

"Y-you do?"

"Of course," he raises an eyebrow, "The Pottah Jr., right?"

"Yeah," I manage to answer numbly. "H-how did you-"

"I swear you never talk about anything else in your letters, it gets annoying at times. Albus, Quidditch, Albus, grades, and Albus," he rolls his eyes and gives the trademarked Malfoy smirk as I feel my cheeks go red again. "Harry's going to have a field day when he finds out, that oblivious bloke."

"Please don't tell him!!!!" I blurt out quickly, //gay// panicking again. "Al specifically said he could never like me that way anyway."

"What, when?" My father looks up at me. "Want me to hex him?"

"NO!!! No hexing my best friend, please. Seriously. I mean it," I glare at him and he smiles again, and his eyes take on a mischievous glint that makes me fear for Albus' life. "But uh yeah... we don't need to get into the details of when he said that..." my blush grows deeper and my father connects the dots.

"Dear God you already kissed him..."

"Yeah well I was friend-zoned less than a minute after he er... kissed me... so..." I reach up to flick a piece of hair out of my face, the sad reality weighing on me.

"That boy is head over heels, Scor. Bloody hell! Do you have any basic social skills? I thought I raised you better," my father says, shaking his head.

"I didn't see any kids my age for 11 years," I remind him with an eye roll. My father stares at me and a strange emotion passes through his eyes. The doorbell rings once, interrupting whatever feeling flickered across his face. Father flicks his wand and his clothes clean instantly. I motion to my still flour-covered ones but he's already walking to open the door.

*****

I should be asleep but my mind didn't get the message. I owe Albus an owl since it's been 3 days, and I know he'll be worried about me...

OR MAYBE HE DOESN'T CARE AT ALL!

I wince slightly, but the voice doesn't bother me. Facts points against it and I no longer feel so alone... I'm not afraid of who I really am.

The problem with it is I've thrown out 5 attempts at a letter already. How do you say something like this to someone you've known for so long? I dip my quill into the dark blue ink and pull out a new piece of paper.

Dear Albus, I begin shakily. I throw out the paper and try again, steadying my hand. I'm supposed to be the one with the good handwriting but I can barely get anything out straight tonight.

Dear Albus,
I hope to be back at school soon. I really miss you.

I scratch out the line quickly since it sounds... weird.

I miss our dorm a lot. My bedroom is dark to say the least. The dungeons at Hogwarts have nothing on my room in Malfoy Manor. I'll be back in time to lose the house cup, don't worry. I mean you are a Potter, so last minute house cup points are in your blood? Slytherin can hope.

I scratch the last two lines out, biting my lip. If I mention his last name, bad memories would be brought up.

When I get back sounds great!
Love,

My hand shakes, I'm really doing this, huh?

Scorpius

I stare down at the letter for a minute, re-reading every line a few times. I pick up another piece of paper and write the letter again minus the scratched out lines.

"Here you are Arthur," I take Al's owl out of its cage and tie the letter carefully to his talon. "Make sure you get it to him by tomorrow," I smile and release him into the cold night.