Title: The Inconveniences of Being a Malfoy
Summary: First year at Hogwarts, Scorpius isn't getting along well, but he'll be damned if he's going to be happy that Albus Severus Potter is suddenly trying to help.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

(6)

The mansion was almost overbearingly quiet and Scorpius shuddered involuntarily as he walked down the corridor. The Malfoy manor retained little of its former glory that his father used to tell him about; a thick layer of dust had settled over most of the interior without any house elves to sweep it away, the many rooms had been emptied of anything that could be sold off in exchange for food and other basic comforts and needs, and cobwebs beleaguered nearly every corner in the mansion.

Scorpius’ father had left for work early in the morning, promising to try to be back as early as he possibly could. Scorpius had nodded and smiled compliantly as his father left, but he knew that more likely than not, Draco would return closer to dinnertime, exhausted but trying not to show it and apologizing to Scorpius for working so late. His father would then eat dinner, if it had been made already with no complaints, or if he came home early enough, he would cook it himself.

Scorpius had long since accepted Narcissa’s heartfelt but usually almost tragic attempts at cooking and now knew better than to grumble if the food was burned or had no taste or anything of the like. He had paid dearly for it when he was younger when Lucius had beat him for 'giving his grandmother cheek', even though typically it was Lucius who complained and criticized Narcissa, no matter how hard she tried or how much she improved.

His father had been furious when he had learned that Lucius had punished Scorpius – there had been a huge argument, and his frightened grandmother had taken him out to the now dead, withering garden (it must have been beautiful once, Scorpius thought) and pointed out the constellations in the sky to him and after she’d run out of ones that she remembered, they’d made some up together. That was Scorpius’ best memory of his grandmother, and afterwards, his father had carefully treated Scorpius’ bruises and scrapes, and Narcissa Malfoy had gone to see if her husband had cooled down.

Over the years, his father had learned to cook well, and when he could, Draco took the pressure of creating a good dinner from his mother’s shoulders onto his. Scorpius had once asked when he had time to learn, because he was always out working, but his father had just said that he’d learned it at his job.

Scorpius had never asked him what his job was – the guarded facial expression that slid across his father’s face whenever they came close to discussing what he did to continue to bring money in made Scorpius shy away from discussing the topic with him, the same courtesy being extended to the subject of his mother. The only thing he knew about his father's job and his mother was that Lucius didn’t like either of them.

‘It’s not a job fitting for a Malfoy,’ Lucius had hissed at Scorpius’ father last week, as he did periodically, ‘Working with those that are so far below you-’

‘Wake up, Father,’ his father had snarled, ‘We are no longer as untouchable and high and mighty as you think we are – if we ever were! I haven’t got a choice, no one else will hire a Malfoy-’

Lucius spat on the ground in disgust. ‘Disgusting maggots, he growled, ‘Come up in the world, haven’t they, they should be begging you to be doing their jobs-’

“Scorpius?” Narcissa said questioningly, blinking at him from her position down next to the oven, looking strange and regal and beautiful at the same time in a shabby, slightly lopsided apron she had hastily designed years ago from some sheets.

Scorpius started in surprise – he’d walked into the kitchen absentmindedly. It was one of the only rooms in the house besides the two occupied bedrooms that had minimal dust. It was also the one room in the entire mansion that Lucius absolutely refused to enter.

Narcissa gave him a the same awkward, fleeting half smile that Draco often gave him, and gestured for him to join her down on the ground. He squatted next to her and saw flour in her pale blonde hair, and was a bit startled to see lines on her face where there hadn’t been any before.

“Look,” Narcissa whispered to him, sounding a bit excited, squinting into the space window in the oven, “It’s a pie! I found an old recipe book, the house elves might’ve left them all those years ago or something, but it has instructions to make all kinds of desserts!” Scorpius peered in, and saw a lumpy shape inside.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Scorpius asked, frowning.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” his grandmother admitted, embarrassed, “But it’s my first attempt and I’ve still got quite a bit of extra material, so I can try again a couple more times and maybe we’ll be able to have something sweet for dessert tonight.”

Something dinged, and Narcissa quickly shooed Scorpius out of the way and pulled the pie out. It was a little bit darker and shaped a bit differently than the pies Scorpius saw in the Great Hall, but otherwise it looked fine.

“Oh,” she said, sounding pleased, “That wasn’t too bad. Look, it actually looks rather nice, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Scorpius agreed honestly.

“Help me make another one,” his grandmother said, her eyes bright with the excitement of the success, “And while it’s cooking, why don’t we taste this one?” she suggested, glancing sideways at him and giving him another hesitant smile.

“Um,” Scorpius said, unsure of what to say. He didn’t usually get to spend any real quality time with her. She and Lucius always seemed to be locked away in their room, or she was in the kitchen and Lucius would take him in the room to talk about... the old days. “Yes, ma’am,” he finally said.

She paused at his words, and bit her lip, thinking to herself, before deciding something with a nod to herself. “Call me Grandmother,” Narcissa said, almost shyly, glancing at him again, and then quickly looking away as if afraid to look at him.

Scorpius felt the beginnings of a smile try to curve his lips up, and quickly stamped the feeling down. He glanced down at the tile floor, feeling inexplicably timid. “Yes, Grandmother,” he murmured, tasting the unfamiliarly warm and familial word carefully.

“Alright,” she said, carefully lining up the ingredients, looking determined to act as if she wasn’t affected at all (despite the pink in her cheeks) and consulted the recipe book. “Now, first,” she mused, reaching towards the flour, eyes still on the book.

“Narcissa!”

His grandmother shrieked in surprise and horror, dropping the flour back on the table, sending a puff of white powder into the air. “L-lucius!” she stammered, and Scorpius turned to look at his grandfather.

Lucius Malfoy had aged significantly, but nobody could deny that he still had the same sort of cool authority, the same piercing blue eyes, and even his handsome looks had not diminished completely. Standing in the doorway, eyes blazing, he was a commanding presence. Scorpius shrank away, and Lucius smiled a sudden, terrible smile.

“What,” he said, silkily, his sudden mood change sending a shiver down Scorpius’ back, “do you think you’re doing, my…” Lucius sneered slightly “…dear wife?”

Scorpius’ grandmother whimpered slightly, and stuttered out, “J-just making some desserts, I thought we- you could enjoy them.”

“And you saw fit to involve our grandson,” Lucius said, tone becoming dangerous, “Our only heir to the Malfoy family and even the Black family, you allowed him to be exposed to such,” he paused, and his lip curled as he found the word he was looking for, “domesticity.”

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Narcissa whispered, bowing her head, and Scorpius felt bile rise in his throat at the submissive gesture.

“Come, boy,” Lucius snapped at him, suddenly, and walked away purposefully. Scorpius glanced at his grandmother quickly and, looking alarmed at his hesitation, she gestured at him for him to follow Lucius immediately.

“Boy!” Lucius shouted again, and Scorpius hurried after Lucius, leaving his grandmother behind.


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