InsaneJournal

Who: Scorpius Malfoy
When: September 22, after this; Backdated
Where: His house
What: Feels, reaction to his "gift"
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete; Narrative

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Scorpius was feeling a vast array of emotions at his recent delivery he had received outside his home. It had been addressed to him. So naturally it was alright to take it inside and open it, yes? He had thought so. But when he opened it... it was like everything fell around him. Balance didn't exist. Up was down, sideways was.. the other way. It was a picture of the Malfoy family. His family. He would recognize it right off. But right in the middle. Where his image was supposed to neatly be? Not there. Or it was there, but burned out. Blackened paper, obviously from a little fire, magical or not. He was the only thing missing from it. But it wasn't just the damage to such a beautiful picture that got to him. It was what the picture, what this gift meant. The same as others in the Black family tree with how they had their names burnt off it. He knew damn well what this meant for him. What his part in it represented, what his family thought of him. Quite a few words to describe it and none were at all pleasant. Rejection. Outcast. Traitor. Disowned. Castoff. Alone.

He held it in his hands as he stood there, a miracle that he was still standing with his knees shaking as they did. Hands clenched tightly on the frame. He had been staring down at it for.. he wasn't sure how long. Seeing his reflection in the glass, and immediately seeing the blackened smudge. It was when he noticed a tiny drop of water fall on the surface that he realized. That was from him. He looked away, carrying it with him as he had sat down at his desk in the study. Had had spent the next hour trying to get answers on the board, to want to know why. Had his family just arrived? Found out his activities. How he lived in a home given to him by a muggle woman. How his friends were muggles and how he had publicly stated that everyone magical or not should play Quidditch. Just why had this happened. He would occasionally glance down at the picture and feel the heaviness rise up again, feeling those same thoughts of sadness and rejection. But it was then that Regina had spoken to him, giving him the friendly advice he needed. If she had not... well. He didn't want to think it. And he knew she was right. She was. More likely that it was Lucifer and not his family. But there was still that lingering doubt in his mind about it. But her advice on other occasions had proved good so far, so he would take it again this time.

So after replying his thanks, he carried the picture off and prepared himself for sleep in his bedroom. What else could he do? Practicing some Quidditch didn't appeal to him at the moment. Not even flying on his broom to clear his head. He'd always done that. But the fact that he didn't now spoke volumes. He felt tired and heavy from what he had been given. He turned the photo on its face, laying it on the bedside dresser before laying down. He had laid there for almost twenty minutes. Just.. resting and staring at the ceiling in darkness. His thoughts occupying him like a tumultuous storm, trying to calm them. Until his eyes just fell closed. It was not long after that til he began to dream...

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~~~ [ He had been walking for what seemed to be miles, his wizard robes occasionally blowing in the wind. He felt cold and alone. He had continued to walk, seemingly endless. And then he was suddenly in front of his mansion. It was home. He raised his fist to know.. why was he knocking? On his own house? He didn't know but he did it now anyway. The door opened slowly and he walked into what seemed like an empty home. Like no one had been here for years. "Ohh.. no. No, not here.." Very much like the one in his alternate universe. The one where his parents had been killed years earlier, leaving him to grow up an orphan. And then suddenly, a voice.

"Excuse me, but who are you and why are you here?" Looking to the source of it, and.. Father! It was Draco Malfoy. Not young like he had met in Kansas. No, this was Draco at his older age, as the young man remembered him. But he didn't seem happy. And the gaze seemed to go through him, there was no hint of recognition in those eyes. Scorpius smiled with relief, seemingly unaware of it. "Dad, it's so good to see-" But that wasn't the right response, Draco wasn't supposed to back away repulsed when his son tries to hug him. "Father. It's me! Scorpius. Hyperion. Malfoy. Scor! My friends call me that."

Still a reaction of disbelief. "What son?" Those simple words made the young Malfoy's heart sink. And then a woman's voice behind him, "Draco, dear, who is this man here? One of the new hired help?" Draco laughed. "No, just some wanker claiming to be our son."

Scorpius trembled, every part of him wanting to run but unnaturally unable to. Such was the effect of dreams. But he felt anger too. "I. Am. Yours." He spoke through gritted teeth. Then a tone of desperation. "Please, say you understand. Please, I need to know-"

Both parents laughed, it was a hollow laugh, then shaking of heads. Draco had spoke first. "You need to leave. Did Potter put you up to this? Or Weasley. Or you're some penniless git trying to weasel into our money. Get out. We don't have any children. And seeing you, well, I don't think we feel inclined to have one anytime soon." Scorpius was backing away, feeling the chill, but their eyes. How they looked at him. Like a stranger! That alone was worse than anything else. The room faded from view, and the last he saw was them going about their daily routines as if he never walked into the manor. As if he had not mattered. Just some odd bloke making wild claims, easily forgotten once he was gone. ] ~~~


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The blond tumbled in his sleep. It would happen now and then, but.. this. His fist clenched on the sheet as he turned, mumbling incoherently to himself, sweat forming on his brow. His body wanted to wake up. But the thoughts of the day, of his feeling of doubt and being outcast occupied his mind. He soon calmed and slumbered more. For some time, before he was somewhere else in his mind.

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~~~ [ The Malfoy youth was not walking alone. His father was also present. There was a sense of agitation in the air. Of urgency. All he could see was the backside of his father. His robes billowing, the pale blond hair, wand at the ready. Where were they going? What was exactly going on? He did not know. He was confused. And fearful of something. There was fog now and then around the area. And Draco, he seemed a little up ahead now, with Scorpius hurriedly trying to keep pace. "Hold on, just.. wait, let me just-" He quickened his pace. "Father, slow down," he gasped in desperation. However, Draco was silent. He either didn't hear or was occupied with getting someplace. He called out again. No response. He did yet once more, same reaction.. though followed by a brief shake of the head, which he was almost sure was a reaction of annoyance from his father. And worse still, Draco seemed once again a few feet more ahead than before.

There was also more fog. In bits and places, more of it. Making it harder for Scorpius to see him. To follow him. "Please, just stop for a moment, just one little-" He huffed, breaking into a run. "Father! Dad?! Just stop, where are we going.." Unfortunately, though? The elder Malfoy was even more out of reach after that. And didn't seem interested in stopping at the slightest. This was impossible. Closer he got, farther he seemed. Scorpius heaved, nearly falling over but caught himself. The fog rose around them much more. He could not see or hear the father he knew, not now. And he could not feel any presence around. He could not even see an inch in front of him. Or any direction. He was frantic, feeling more lost than ever. "Please, I can't do this alone. I need help, anyone.. Father why couldn't you wait?" Silence. Long silence. And the cold of not. Then there was a voice, familiar, as if the man had never left. But it felt.. hard. Crisp. And almost an echo, yet close. "I have no son." ] ~~~


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Scorpius swiftly opened his eyes, an intake of breath escaping him, feeling sweat over him. The sheets held tight in both fists, breathing heavily as he was between halfway asleep and wide awake. He wasn't sure which he was at the moment. He turned the light on and looked around quickly. He was alone. There was no fog. he was in his home, the former Ainsley house.. not the manor in Wiltshire. Not the foggy streets of London at night. He absently reached for the picture and turned it over. He quickly realized it was that one and not one of the normal ones. Seeing the family image again and himself absent, burned from it. He breathed hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the wetness he felt threatening to rise from his eyes yet once more, wiping them anyway. He had begun to feel one more time the rush of emotions, the sadness that the thoughts of the gift brought. He clenched his jaw, counting to ten, counting snitches in his head, anything to make it pass. And it eventually did. Right, don't think on it anymore. No more. "Bloody hell, why, why did I look at it again," he mumbled, cursing under his breath. Put it away. Put it away. Think of something else. It might be your family but more likely to be Lucifer. Those facts came to him again, causing him to shudder at the weight of it.

Right. He was going to put it where he wouldn't see it for a while. He placed it on the floor and slid it under his bed, then got up on his feet again. Yes, that would do. This made little sense to him. He'd have to take that advice more strongly. Just not think about the gift, more like curse, and focus on other things. On what he knew. And what did he know? His family loved him. His father was kind to him here. His father had a muggle friend during camp and after. His father lived here with him when Darcy and her kids were present. There was still some leftover doubts, a what if thought, but.. no. He would have heard if other Malfoys had recently arrived. And so far there was nothing. So.. huh. Well, maybe it was actually the Devil. The look on the young wizard's face then became hard, he felt anger in him. But also a calmness to the anger, which might be worse than belting out hexes and profanity as the case occasionally was. Ohh, they would beat this. But first. First, he had to go through the board records, some archives he had saved. Specifically, things posted, replied to, and written by his father during his brief time here. There had to be something there to prove what he knew deep down, that he was still part of his family. He just had to see it and then he could accept it. No way was he tired anymore. No, he was wide awake and focused, face calm and determined as he logged onto the network once more. Time to get to work.