Must Have Done Something Right / Scorbus

Chapter 7 / Morion versus Malfoy: Part One

Muggle Studies was one of Albus' favourite classes, though he never made a big deal out of it in front of people like Matt, who was only forced to go along to it because of his mother. In fact, not many people knew that Muggle Studies contributed to his highest marks. He supposed he had his father and grandfather to thank for his fascination. From a young age, he, James and Lily—and all his cousins, really—had grown up living with a strong Muggle influence. For instance, they had a television, his mother always cooked without magic, they all had an appreciation for Muggle music, and of course, their passion for cars. But seeing as how the majority of his year was spent at Hogwarts, Albus learned to treasured these couple of hours a week he spent immersed in Muggle culture.
And today, they were about to start studying things that Albus was dying to know more about.
"Mobile phones," Professor Doherty, a short frail witch who looked like she was seconds away from her deathbed, wheezed out. She was perhaps the worst suited to be teaching such a lesson, but Albus still looked on in interest as she held out a small black rectangular object in her wrinkly wiry fingers. "Now class ... remember our lessons on telephones?" she asked very slowly. "Mobiles phones have the same idea ... except that they're ... mobile," she croaked. Albus had the distinct impression that she might fall asleep where she was standing.
"Now," she coughed, handing the phone to a Hufflepuff boy in the front row. "I want you all to pass it around ... yes, that's it. Don't drop it, Mr Morgan."
Albus waited eagerly while it came to him and only half-listened to Professor Doherty begin to explain when mobiles were first invented—and that they were originally much larger than the one that was being passed around through greedy hands. He noticed absent-mindedly that Malfoy was scribbling down dot points to everything the Professor was saying and began to entertain the thought that perhaps he'd let him borrow his notes, now that they were ... well, were they friends? Albus wasn't too sure.
He promptly forgot about what exactly he and Malfoy were, when finally, the phone reached him. Albus grabbed at the mobile and held it close, studying every inch and dearly wishing he had one of his own.
It was as if the Professor heard his silent wish when she rasped out from the front, "Now students ... you have a new assignment. For two weeks, you will each be given a mobile phone to study and use, if you so wish to. Each mobile phone has a piece of paper attached to it that has a number on it. This is your phone number." An excited babble rose among the students and Albus leaned forward, thinking this was the best assignment he could ever get. Even Matt, sitting beside him, was looking interested. "I want you to write a two-foot essay on the benefits and disadvantages of owning a mobile phone. It is due in three weeks time," she said through thin bloodless lips. Albus deflated a little at the prospect of writing yet another essay, but it didn't quell his enthusiasm. "Now, in an orderly fashion," she croaked, "Please come forward and choose your mobile phone."
There was nothing orderly about the mad rush to the front of the classroom. Poor Professor Doherty was trampled beneath the stampede of students all hurrying towards her, grabbing the best looking phones. Albus, too, reached his arm through and grabbed onto a mobile that was thin, and smart-looking in its black and silver frame. He pocketed it quickly before it was snatched from him hand and retreated back to admire it.
He was joined shortly by Matt who had also secured his own phone and was turning it over in his hands. Matt's was a little larger than his and all black.
"Students!" piped up the frail voice of the Professor from next to Albus, her hair net askew. "Students!" But no one could hear her over their excited shrieks and yells.
Albus, feeling sorry for the old woman, brought his index and thumb fingers to his mouth and whistled shrilly through them. As high-pitched as the noise was, everyone heard it. Within seconds, the din was gone and silence reigned while everyone looked at Albus expectantly.
"Professor?" Albus prompted, turning to the frazzled old witch.
She smiled gratefully and said, "Thank you, Albus. Headmistress McGonagall has kindly allowed the use of these mobile phones in the castle and has removed certain anti-Muggle technology spells for this class. Do not mistreat this privilege!" She wheezed, before shooing them with her hand and shrieking, "Dismissed!"
As the class streamed out of the classroom, Albus caught a look of Malfoy's prominent hair and saw that the blonde was smiling at him happily.
Looking over his shoulder to ensure that Matt and his friends had already left, he walked over to Malfoy. "Hey."
"Hello," Malfoy greeted politely.
"Why were you smiling at me?" Albus implored, staring into Malfoy's silver eyes.
The blonde smiled again, and Albus noticed two small dimples appear on either side of his grin. "Oh, I just think that was a very nice thing you did for Professor Doherty," he said. "Getting everyone's attention like that ..."
Albus suddenly felt inexplicably proud. "Oh, was nothing," he mumbled nonetheless.
They both exited the room to find that their entire class was still noisily gathered around, all of them playing with their new toys enthusiastically. Some people were already swapping numbers and storing them in their phones, while others were fiddling around with ringtones. Albus saw that a few Hufflepuff girls on the side had already discovered the wonders of a camera phone.
"I have Arithmancy now," Malfoy said. "I better go before I'm late."
Albus nodded, but quickly asked, "Before you go, can I get your number?" He hoped that wasn't a forward thing to ask.
The dimpled smile once again graced Malfoy's slightly red face, as he nodded and pulled out his phone with the number attached to it. They quickly swapped numbers before Malfoy muttered a brief, "goodbye" and left to go to his next class, leaving Albus confused as to his hasty retreat.
He found out soon when Matt's large hand slapped him on the shoulder from behind. "There you are, Potter!"
Albus jumped in shock. "H-hey," he said weakly.
"Come on, race you to the pitch," Matt yelled, already running off.
Albus stood still for a second to digest the near disaster of what just happened. If Malfoy had left a second later, or if Matt had arrived a moment earlier, he would have been caught swapping numbers with Scorpius Malfoy ... which essentially would equate to social ruin in his circumstance.
Though what annoyed Albus most of all was himself—that he would be so horrified at being caught being friends with Malfoy. The question that irked on his mind was whether his new friendship with Malfoy would be worth losing a lot of the things he had now—his friends, his team, his popularity?
Frowning at the mess he put himself in, he hurried off after his friend to spend his free period mucking around on the pitch with Matt.

The Common Room was bursting with noise and crammed with Slytherins too hyper to go to bed yet. A group of rowdy third years—who had obviously just enjoyed their first visit to Zonkos—had decided it would be funny to set off a couple of harmless but highly distracting fireworks, causing loud guffaws from the boys and shill screams from the girls.
Albus laughed along with the rest as one of the fireworks landed directly in the fire place, causing the already mammoth flame to double in size. Those sitting on the comfortable sofas near the fire, including Albus, felt it directly on their skin.
"Wicked!" Crispin Dennison, a lanky fifth year who was one of the Beaters on the team, exclaimed. "Seared off half my arm hairs!"
Claire Zabini, who was sitting opposite them on the other sofa with Malfoy and their other friend, screeched, "My hair! It's burning!" She was patting her hair hysterically as if to check that it was still all there. Parkinson, sitting beside her, began to assure to panic-stricken girl that her hair was fine. And Malfoy, squashed on the end of the couch, frowned at Zabini's dramatics and returned to the book sitting in his lap, tutting under his breath ("Honestly!").
Albus wondered how anyone could do work in this crazy Common Room, but, if anyone could, it would probably be Scorpius Malfoy.
Bryce Gilles, Albus' other beater, spoke up loudly and deliberately, "You better watch out Zabini! The fire took out a chunk of your hair! Reckon you're going bald!"
Claire screamed and ran off with Parkinson in tow, clutching her dark brown locks, while Bryce and Matt cracked up laughing, holding their stomachs. Albus couldn't help but chuckle also, but one look at Malfoy's disappointed face, caused him to hold his laughter in.
In an effort to change the subject, Albus asked, "Where's Paul?"
"Doing his detention," Matt replied. Then he said loudly, "You know, the one he got for calling Malfoy a fag." Albus wished Matt would lower his voice, but he knew there was no way Malfoy couldn't have heard. "I didn't know they gave detentions for speaking the truth, eh Albus?"
Out of his periphery, he saw Malfoy sitting stock-still; his pale fingers whiter than usual as he clutched his book tightly, trying not to react. Then Albus realised that Matt had asked him a question. Fully aware that Scorpius was sitting right opposite him, Albus nodded weakly in response, but hated himself for it.
"Seems a bit cruel," Matt continued with his unapologetic voice, getting the attention of the students sanding around the couches. "It should be Malfoy with the detention. After all, he's the menace ... he's the fag. They shouldn't let filth like him enter Hogwarts in the first place. He's just defiling the good and proud name of wizard."
Albus wished he could Disapparate, or find a way to shut his friend up. But he did the only thing he could, sit there listening and ignore Malfoy as best he could.
But he couldn't, because Matt then turned directly to Malfoy and demanded in a rough voice. "Oi, look at me when I talk about you, you little shirt-lifter!"
Albus looked at the small, shaking figure of Malfoy, whose head was still desperately bowed in his book, fists still white. The entire Common Room looked as well, staring at Malfoy like he was an alien.
"LOOK AT ME!" Matt bellowed.
Albus saw a single tear sliding down Malfoy's white face and his heart suddenly clenched. No, please don't let him cry. Not now.
Malfoy finally looked up at Matt, and Albus saw that his silver eyes were glistening with tears. For a split-second, Malfoy turned his gaze directly to him and Albus felt the bottom of his stomach drop when all he could see on Malfoy's face was the deepest hurt. Albus felt awful.
"Oh don't cry," Matt patronised through a snort of laughter. "Don't cry; you'll ruin your make-up."
A few people laughed, and someone called out, "good one, Morion!"
It seemed this was enough for Malfoy. He stood up quickly, his book fell down with a thump and he ran towards the stairs, rushing past the silent crowd who were still staring at him. Some even tried to block him.
"You can't run away now!" Matt yelled. "I'm not done yet, you little cocksucker!"
But Malfoy paid no heed, as he rushed up the stairs. Albus caught a final glimpse of him—his face streaming with tears.
When Malfoy left, Matt started laughing raucously and soon everyone else joined in. Within minutes, the din of the crowd was back, more fireworks were going off and everyone had restarted their own conversations, as if everything was fine. Random people from all other grades kept coming up to Matt and slapping him on the back happily, and Matt kept haughtily saying things like, "well, he deserved it," and, "he needed to be taught his place, the little fag."
Albus felt sick, and with the attention now off him, he knelt down, picked up Malfoy's book, and while everyone else was busy, he crept upstairs to his dormitory.

Next chapter: The scene continues when Albus confronts Scorpius.