Getting him back - Scorbus Fanfiction

Scorpius- Part 4

The lake was a solemn grey; colourless weeds floated like lifeless bodies across the water. I crouched down and swished my hands around, searching for any signs of warmth with my already frostbitten fingers. I had sat here with Albus, two years before, and laughed about how inadequate the employment managers at Hogwarts must have been.
"Okay, Quirrel had to be the worst one! I mean- how did they manage to get a teacher with Voldermort literally attached to the back of his head?" Albus laughed, squinting his eyes and lightly resting his palm on my shoulder.
"No, no, what about Lockhart? He tried to obliviate your dad, they're all pretty bad."
"Hey, don't forget Lupin. He wasn't too bad- that is if you can get over the dog breath!" Albus knelt down and gave a mock wolf howl, sending me into a fit of heaving laughter. He started giggling too and there we sat, a picture of two happy boys reflected back at us in the lake in front.
Now all there was was myself, alone and likely to catch pneumonia in this crippling cold. I recalled why I came down to the lake and continued to look for a small weed called a 'grentock', which we were instructed to gather for Potions. I made my way across the cobbled paths and up the grassy slope, back into school.
The classroom was dark. I had arrived only a minute late but everyone was already gathered around an effervescent mixture of bright copper sludge, crawling up the walls of the cauldron and emitting an unsettling amount of steam. Professor Greenwich was one of the less eccentric teachers, but she stood at an intimidating 6 foot two with platinum hair and equally fair eyebrows.
"THIS," she raised the mixture like some deified icon we were meant to pray to, "IS DRAUGHT OF PEACE." This was, as I had recently become acquainted with, was the wizarding world's alternative to 'Xanax': a potion used to calm people down. The O.W.Ls standardised testing was drawing near and each year there seemed to be more and more mental breakdowns. So the fourth year had been put in charge of making a commercial load of this potion.
"Children, please go back to your desks and replicate what I had shown you." I looked across the room in dismay- everyone seemed perfectly fine with this but, having missed the first minute or two of the lesson, I was completely in the dark. I was forced to work alone because Albus was busy with Samirah and her other less pleasant friends. I pulled out my sprig of Grentock and began following the step by step in the textbook.
POOF! the steam went. SPLOSH! went in the gold. GURGLE! PIFF! BANG! The final step was to add the grentock, which let out an aroma of pine and tea tree when I cut it. The leaves were an inch away from being added to the mixture when I felt a soft tap on my shoulder. It was Atticus and, more to my surprise, Albus- he gave a meek smile while Atticus addressed me with a snide glance. His countenance was repugnant as if his very personality reeked of vinegar and sour milk hence it seemed he curdled the air around him when he spoke. In that one moment, I questioned, for all my insecurities and insufficiencies, why Albus preferred Atticus over me. I concluded there must be something so inexplicably awful about me that I have yet to notice.
"Dearest Scorpio, it seems we may have forgotten our sprintock weed- my mistake- so we were wondering if we could use yours?"
With the greatest civility I could gather, I retorted: "It's Scorpius, not Scorpio. And I'm sorry, I only have enough GREN-tock for myself."

I turned around if only to laugh to myself. It was clear all parties were shocked; Albus had seen me say sorry when a second-year pushed me over.
"Allow me to reiterate- I am going to take it because I don't have any, it's more important both myself and Potter here get a high grade...". 

He lurched to yank it from me as the teacher wasn't looking, clearly to Albus' surprise, but I managed to yank my hand back in time. This caused Atticus to fall forward onto the concrete working bench and knock over an assortment of potion ingredients. He yelped in anguish, the sulphurous potions sizzling on his shirt like battery acid. He stood up and seemed perfectly fine, barre a mustard yellow stain on the middle of his blouse, but the dismay on his face soon became anger.
"Scorpio, you insolent toad-breathed bobolyne! Look what you've done."

Suddenly I was being violently shaken by my collar, and, in one fell swoop, I heard a crack. He had struck me right in my face and broken my nose. I didn't have to look in the mirror to know my nasal cavity was already gushing with blood. The room was simultaneously silent and roaring, most likely due to a slight concussion.

Professor Greenwich forced her way through to where we stood and asked, in a curiously calm manner, what had happened. I said nothing. Atticus said nothing. Albus said nothing. Eventually, Lucia spoke;
"Atticus punched Scorpius." Greenwich frowned. "Malfoy, go to the infirmary and Atticus come with me."
Albus reached out for me but I pushed him away. "Get off of me!" I ran out and made my way to the nurse. I could not believe Albus had genuinely sat by and watched while his 'friend' hit me, it genuinely astounded me. All I could do was crouch down on one of the protruding bricks in the hallway and cry until the blood in my nose was washed away by tears and snot.