Malediction: the love and life of Astoria Malfoy

Chapter Thirty Three

A while after we moved, I'd say about a year or so, there was a gradual, but obvious change in how Draco handled Scorpius.

In the past, Scorpius was his everything. He was kind to him unwaveringly, showed how much he loved him everyday in the ways he looked at him, spoke to him, talked about him (perhaps that was only because Scorpius was so young, but I personally grew closer to him every year, despite his increasing age).

But then, a switch was flipped, and there was an obvious coolness, a distance between them, by no fault of Scorpius, I might add.

Draco was turning everything into a lesson about leadership, or strength, or some other nonsense. It was as if he completely forgot how to speak to or handle Scorpius.

At eight years old, he was the kindest person I'd ever met. When we talked, it felt as though I were conversing with another adult, not a child, with the intricate thoughts he had, how he saw the world through a unique and extraordinary lens.

I was astonished by him, and it vexed me to my very core how detached the two were becoming.

The thing about Scorpius, is that his favorite thing in the world is reading. Whenever he reads a new book (in hardly any time at all), he could spend hours talking about it, in vivid detail, astounded by whatever he had learned about works or functions, or how something happened in the past. And, apparently I was the only one who would actually listen.

Draco would never talk about these things with him, ever. Scorpius could feel that whenever he was going on about his books, and he would fall quiet and uneasy. The energy between them was so stagnant, so disjointed and awkward, yet so volatile.

It was made worse by Scorpius's mild infatuation with the history of the Second Wizarding War.

A war Draco was on the wrong side of.

A war Harry Potter was the savior of.

He idolized Harry Potter, would read countless accounts and books on his feats against Voldemort, and wanted nothing more than to go to Hogwarts and make friends as great as Harry Potter had.

Each day, he would check the headlines of the Daily Prophet, making sure no catastrophe had befallen Hogwarts, hindering his chances to go.

This. Drove. Draco. Crazy.

He loathed Harry Potter (which, I agreed with only when it came to his total disregard of the absurd allegations made against Scorpius, and the scars permanently left on Draco from a duel they'd once gotten into) to a ludicrous extent. For a while there, after we'd graduated, his hatred had subsided -- then made anew by his chat with him at the ministry -- then began to subside once more -- and finally, reignited once again by Scorpius's interest.

I thought Draco was acting like an utter fool. Of course Scorpius would idolize the savior of the wizard race! And besides, he repressed his outward curiosity after Draco had gone on about how much of a "loathsome, scumsucking, prat" he thought Harry to be.

Draco was acting like a child, and I was losing any and all patience I had.

Then, one day, just after Scorpius and I had been discussing the Bloody Baron's suicide after the death of Helena Ravenclaw over dinner (he'd re-read Hogwarts; A History again for the hundredth time), Draco piped in.

"Scorpius, I have a surprise for you."

I eyed him suspiciously over the top of my glass, and Scorpius, a politely puzzled look on his face, said, "R-really?"