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Cursed Child AU

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I’ve been doing some research today (I can neither confirm nor deny I’m writing the sequel chapter to Dial Tone) and I just found out that Draco Malfoy’s wife Astoria supposedly dies really young due to a curse placed on her ancestor, which leaves both Scorpius and Malfoy devastated and I’m just…are you fucking kidding me????

Are you telling me that instead of the shitheap of fiction that was The Cursed Child, we could have instead had a story about young Scorpius Malfoy finding out about the curse laid on his mother, and being the Slytherin child that he is, deciding to find a way to break it. 

Like the possibilities, I can’t even, my brain is just…running away with the idea of what you could do with a story like that. Scorpius Malfoy finds out about his mother’s curse, and how his birth shortens her life, I mean…it’s like…there, in the title??? The CursedChild???!?

And then you have Albus “Al” Potter being sorted into Slytherin but that doesn’t make him any less like his dad so when he finds out what his friend is trying to do he’s there, he’s 100% there to help, whatever his friend needs, Albus Severus Potter is there. His dad gave him the invisibility cloak after all, what’s to stop them using it to get into the Library and reading all the books. They get caught of course, and Professor McGonagall has this surreal moment of not quite déjà vu, at having a Potter and a Malfoy breaking the rules in front of her again, but as friends??? And they’re…they’re reading about healing magic and protection spells at 3am??? Slytherins??? Is…is it too soon to consider early retirement??? Asking for a friend???

And because Al is the precious little Slytherin that he is, he has absolutely no qualms about breaking into his Dad’s office, aka Harry Fucking Potter’s Office, at the ministry and finding out all he can about the most powerful ways to break curses. But first he needs to get there and maybe a few years ago asking his dad if he could come visit on the weekend might not have been weird but it’s weird now. Everything’s been weird since he got sorted into Slytherin but that’s not important now. What is important is he’s pretty sure he remembers a giant book chained to his dad’s office desk and he needs to get to it, but he’s a bit of a squib when it comes to flying, and apparition is still beyond him, but Rose can fly. 

And even though she’s been sorted into Gryfindor and they don’t talk as often as they used to it’s worth a shot right? And initially she calls him mad for wanting to do what he wants to do (just, a moment of pure Hermione shines through, “no, absolutely not, you’re going to get us expelled or worse”) but as she listens to him, the more he pleads adamantly and vocally on behalf of his friend who is just staring at the floor, the more she realizes, they’re serious. Scorpius hasn’t even attempted to flirt with her yet…or…at all really, not recently…and she can’t help but notice he looks a little thinner, a little paler, and the dark circles under his eyes look like bruises, and when he looks up there’s a look of harrowing sorrow behind those bright eyes and Rose Granger-Weasley says slowly, “No, I’m not stealing a broom just so I can fly Albus to the Ministry…” takes a deep breath and licks her lips, determination settling over her shoulders like a well-fitted cloak. “We’re all going. But first we need to get to the Burrow.”

“The Burrow?” Al frowns, doing that weird hopping skip of a run he does to keep up with Rose’s long strides as she turns. “Why are we going to the Burrow?”

“Because, you can fit more in the trunk of a Ford Anglia.”

But no, that’s fine I guess. We’ll just get some muddled bullshit about Bad Parenting, time turners and alternate universes, feat the deranged lovechild of HimWithoutANose and RacistLeStrange. Sure. Great.


 

And just because I’m riding the high of this thought train right now.


“Dark hair, green eyes and a hand-me-down robe?” the other boy smiled, extending his hand. “You must be a Potter.”

***

“But Albus,” Rosie protested, lowering her voice so as not to be heard by anyone else. “He’s a Malfoy, do you really want to be friends with one of them?”

Albus paused, keeping his eyes trained ahead on the back of the other boy’s blond head, noticing the wide berth around him. It wasn’t so much that the other students were avoiding him, not really, it was more like he didn’t want to be seen and was willing his own invisibility into existence. Albus knew all too well what that felt like.

“I think I can make my own mind up about that,” he said, offering his cousin a small, terse smile. “Thanks.”

***

“Scorpion King!” someone shouted, and Albus watched his friend’s face color an unfortunate hue of red, feeling the secondhand embarrassment as keenly as his own. “Scorpion King! King of things that crawl!”

Leave him alone,” Albus said, rounding on the nearest boy who had reached out to flick Scorpius’ pointed hat from his head. 

“Or what, Potter.” Adrian Plunk sneered, leaning in to push Albus back so that he stumbled into Scorpious who caught him before he could fall, “What’s the Slytherin Squib going to do about it?”

“It’s what I’m going to do to you that should worry you,” said a familiar voice as Rosie stepped out into the courtyard, red hair flaming orange in the sunlight. “Now,” she began, unfolding her arms, “who wants to go first.”

***

“Rosie,” Teddy began, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you can’t just go around punching people.”

“Why not?! They started it!”

The prefect sighed.

***

“Your granddaughter stole the car!” Molly exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Oh!” Mr Weasley Senior said, turning bright excited eyes toward the three youths. “How did it run?”

“Arthur!”

***

“Scorpius!” Malfoy yelled, tripping through the smoking debris in his haste to reach the boys, falling hard to his knees as he pulled Scorpius into him, searching for broken bones with quick desperate movements. 

It was the second nature of a father that made him reach for Albus too, hand tentatively reaching for the gash on his forehead and stilling when he realize what he was doing. The other boy didn’t pull back however, allowing himself to be briefly enveloped as well and something hot and tight and dreadful broke free in Malfoy’s chest with relief.

“Are you all right?” he pulled back surveying their grime covered faces as they nodded. “Of all the idiotic, stupid…”

“Insanely brave.” A voice from behind him finishes, sounding just as furious and relieved as Malfoy feels.

“Insanely brave!” he agrees, pulling Scorpius back into him as Potter plucks his own off-spring from Malfoy’s clutch, holding the boy tight. Briefly he wonders if this is what their parents felt for them as children, but quickly dismisses the thought. He knows for himself it was unlikely.”

“What were you thinking?” he demands, holding Scorpius at arms length and resisting the urge to shake him. “What were you thinking?! Your mother and I—”

“Is she alive?” Scorpius demands, eyes wide and hopeful with a terrifying intensity. “Did it work, is mother alive?”

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s being asked, breathing heavily from running and the exertion of fear, but now that he’s able to focus, now that he’s able to see where they are… 

“How…” he begins, eyes narrowing as suspicion begins to dawn, “how did you know about the curse?”

***

"As it would seem, we have some last minute amendments to make before we depart.” Professor McGonagall started, glancing around the Great Hall from behind her glinting spectacles. “Miss Rose Granger-Weasley”—a swell of cheering rose up from every table as Rosie dipped her head, pale freckled face turning pink—”for exemplary skill with a broom and quick thinking, fifty points to Gryffindor.”

“For Mister Scorpius Malfoy”—another cheer, though entirely from the Slytherin table and not as loud—”for correct use of advanced herbology methods and frankly astounding use of an energy transfusement spell, fifty points to Slytherin.”

“For Mister Albus Severus Potter”—and there is the silence Albus has come to dread—”for exceptional cunning, determination and loyalty to one’s friends and for being a true credit to the values of your house…fifty-three points to Slytherin.” That at least gets a cheer from the Slytherin table, and Albus doesn’t really care about the rest because with all the hands suddenly slapping him on the back and Scorpius’ beaming smile he suddenly feels like he belongs.

“Now, with that over with,” Professor McGonagall says, straightening her spectacles, “I do believe we find ourselves, in the happy instance of a draw. Congratulations, to house Gryffindor and Slytherin!”


“I don’t want to go.” Al says, kicking his feet against the scuffed underside of his chair, the sound all but drowned out by the thundering clatter of the train picking up speed as they head towards London. “I’ll miss you.”

Scorpius doesn’t respond right away. He hadn’t even been thinking about not seeing his friend over the summer. His thoughts had been consumed with the thought of seeing his mother waiting for him at Kings Cross Station. She’d been so tired and pale the last time he’d seen her, she hadn’t even been able to see him off…

“Perhaps you could visit.” He says at last, carefully unwrapping a chocolate frog and breaking it into pieces, absentmindedly offering Albus a piece.

“Yea, right.” Albus scoffs, chewing around the mouthful of chocolate. “A Potter at the Malfoy estate, that’ll go down well with your granddad.”

“Oh,” Scorpius blinks, “We’re not living there anymore.”

“You’re not?!” Albus says, righting out of his slouch excitedly, “Why? When did this happen?”

Scorpius shrugs. “Father and Grandfather had another fight about…about what happened with Mother. We’re going to go live in my mother’s old home…it’s not as…nice, but you should ask your dad if you can come. For a few weeks. If…if you’d like. I’m sure father wouldn’t mind…not after everything that happened.”

“Can I invite Rosie too?”

Scorpius shrugs again, smiling softly to himself as Albus begins scratching out a note on a piece of parchment, apparently intent on asking his father before he even gets off the train.

“Sure, why not. The more the merrier.”