Scorpius looked up from the Quidditch magazine he was reading and into her furious puce face. “What are you on about?”
“Don’t act as if you know nothing,” she shouted, sending the remaining pupils scuttling down the stairs to their dormitories. “You’re back in the team.”
Scorpius laughed. “I haven’t said a thing.” He smirked and taking his feet off the table, he closed the magazine and stood up.
“You’re lying!” she spat. “I bet you told him all about Easter, didn’t you? He kept asking what I was doing over the holidays and why I couldn’t meet him. We had an awful row.”
Scorpius stared at Ariadne, wondering for a brief moment if she was actually upset. “Vaisey asked me back on the team before Easter, sweetheart. Maybe Claudine told him; she was there as well, remember? Oh, come on, you’re not that into him anyway, are you?”
Ariadne sniffed, and her lip wobbled tremulously. “No, not really. Oh, Scorpy, I only started going out with him to make you jealous.” Reaching out, Ariadne tucked her arm into his and snuggled her head on his chest.
“Really, well, um, how annoying for you, then,” Scorpius replied, disentangling himself from her clutches. Tilting his head down, he looked at her face, the still intact mascara not at all dislodged by her artful crying.
“What do you mean?”
“It didn’t work,” he murmured. “I wasn’t at all jealous of Vaisey. I was just pissed off because he dropped me from the team.”
“You’re a bastard, Malfoy. A complete and utter bastard!”
“Yup,” he agreed, “which rather begs the question: why are you so desperate to get back into my pants, Ariadne?”
“Get knotted!” she yelled.
Laughing, he sauntered away from her intending to leave for his room, but she latched onto his arm and yanked him back towards her, her fingers plucking at something on his robe. “Get off me, Ariadne. The match is tomorrow, and I want an early night.”
She was smiling, not at him, but to herself, a smile of triumph. “Oh, Scorpy, I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to say to me at all. Not when I could land you in serious trouble with your Daddy.”
He frowned. He was still in trouble with his dad, who hadn’t been placated by Scorpius’ apology to his grandparents. “You’re babbling.”
Ariadne ran her fingers up his arm; he shivered under her calculating touch. Then she stopped and held something up in front of him between her thumb and forefinger
“What have we here, Scorpy? A long ... red ... hair,” she said slowly, enjoying her moment. “You may have been able to persuade your grandma it was nerves that made you run away, but if she knew the truth-”
“What truth?” His eyes flicked from her face to the hair she was now twisting around her finger.
“Not many red-heads in the school,” she replied, smiling nastily. “I hate to think what your family would do if they knew you were screwing Lily Potter.”
Scorpius licked his lips, thinking quickly. He knew if he betrayed any hesitation now, she’d pounce. “Wrong red-head,” he replied, his mouth dry. “I’ve been patrolling with Weasley all week. That boy really needs a haircut. It’s hardly my fault he moults, Ariadne.”
He hadn’t suffered from pre-match nerves for years. In fact, the last time had been his third ever game. It had been against Hufflepuff, and Slytherin needed to win to stand any chance of winning the Cup. His captain, a seventh year called Dave Morgan, had not stopped impressing upon him the importance of the match, and as a result, Scorpius hadn’t slept well. Exhausted, he’d flown sluggishly for the first half an hour until a Bludger, narrowly missing his head, had woken him up. He’d caught the Snitch soon after, but the victory meant nothing when the following week, Ravenclaw thrashed Gryffindor out of sight to capture the Quidditch Cup. After that, Scorpius had willed himself to sleep before matches. He couldn’t control the entire outcome, but he could control himself.
Well, he always had been able to. Tonight as he lay in bed, trying not to think of tomorrow, his head pounded with a myriad of conflicting thoughts. The last time he’d played, he’d failed. Lily had caught the Snitch ahead of him “ not because she was better, but because he’d arrogantly assumed that he’d get there first. It had been his first miss for over three years, and his first ever against Gryffindor. What if ... what if ...? He turned in his bed, desperate to find a cool place on the pillow. What if he failed?
“You okay, Malfoy?” Vaisey muttered from his bed.
Scorpius shifted onto his side. About to snap that he was fine, he caught Vaisey’s tense expression. “Er ... bit nervous about tomorrow, that’s all.”
“Me too,” Vaisey admitted. “Last game in green and silver.”
Sitting up, Scorpius pulled his pyjama top straight, and hugged his knees to his chest. “Be nice to go out with a bang,” Scorpius muttered.
“Ariadne doesn’t think I should have brought you back,” Vaisey replied slowly. “We ... uh ... argued about it. She thinks you’ll try too hard to win.”
Scorpius frowned, not quite understanding the implication of Vaisey’s words. “We want to win, don’t we?”
Vaisey didn’t say anything. Shifting down to his trunk, he pulled out a nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky and took a gulp. “If we don’t win,” he murmured, “then Hufflepuff are unbeaten.”
Scorpius stared at his captain. Did Vaisey really hate Gryffindor that much? Accepting the bottle, Scorpius took a small sip, not gasping as the drink seared the back of his throat. “You don’t want to be known as the Slytherin captain whose team came last, though.”
“I don’t want Potter to win!” Vaisey exclaimed. His voice caused the others in their dorm to stir, but no one else woke up. He paused. “Do you?”
“I tried to kill him before Easter,” Scorpius retorted.
“You were seeing his sister, Malfoy. Everyone knows you were caught snogging her.”
“And he caught us out, making sure his dad was there,” Scorpius said. He went to take another glug of whisky, but something out of the window caught his eye. Instead, he replaced the cap, and handed the bottle back to Vaisey. “Johnson, this could be my last ever game. It’s certainly going to be our last game for Slytherin.” He smiled ruefully and watched the small sliver of a moon as it hovered in the sky. Lily Luna. “I’m going to catch that Snitch tomorrow,” he said at last, “and end my season on a high.”
In the changing room, the atmosphere wasn’t as tense as usual. For Scorpius who thrived on the buzz of other peoples’ nerves, it was disconcerting that this Slytherin team seemed so relaxed. He studied them closely. Flint, who usually paced around, was lounging on the bench, barely bothering to listen to the team talk. And Vaisey’s team talk was lacklustre. None of the ‘Let’s show them what Salazar’s crew are made of’ type speech that Vaisey usually hammered home (and Scorpius usually rolled his eyes at.)
This was boring. Droning on about team positions, and how they were all tired at the end of the season, he completely missed the point of raising morale.
“Oi!” Scorpius exclaimed, from across the room. “I thought you were joking last night.”
“What about, Malfoy?”
“Uh, losing to Hufflepuff,” Scorpius reminded him.
The other members of the team shuffled uncomfortably, and none of them, except the new Chaser “ a third year called Chloe Nott “ would look at him.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” muttered Vaisey, and started speaking to Flint about his new boots.
“Stop this!” Scorpius yelled. “Stop talking about sodding shoelaces when we’ve got a match to play.” He rounded on Vaisey. “You selected me instead of your brother because I was better. I can’t believe you really want to throw the match.”
“I don’t,” muttered Vaisey. He glanced up at Scorpius, shame in his eyes. “It’s just ...” He broke off and looked across at Flint, who coughed and stepped forward to confront Scorpius.
“We’re just not sure what the point is, when we have no chance winning the Cup.”
“THE POINT!” Scorpius exclaimed. Clenching his fists in an attempt to calm himself, he stared at the Slytherin banner screwed up in the corner. The last time he’d seen it displayed was on Lily’s birthday when he’d draped it on the wall, next to the Gryffindor flag. He took a breath; Chloe Nott was gazing up at him, smiling tentatively.
“The point, or points,” he repeated softly, “are that we’re Slytherins, it’s our final game, and I don’t want to leave Hogwarts being part of a team that lost all their games. Look, we were slack at the beginning of the season. I lost that sodding catch against Gryffindor because I was convinced I couldn’t be beaten.” He grinned at Chloe. “I bet Hufflepuff are feeling really confident about their chances. They had it easy against Gryffindor “ Potter lost his nerve - we should show them what it’s like to be in a real match!”
“Yes,” she breathed, her eyes shining.
“What do you say, Johnson?”
For an infinitesimal moment, Scorpius thought Vaisey was going to hex him. He knew why. The speech he’d just given should have come from Vaisey’s mouth, and everyone in the room knew that. Then Johnson Vaisey inclined his head a touch and smiled. Summoning the Slytherin flag from the corner, he floated it towards Chloe. “Carry that out for us, Nott. Let’s show Hufflepuff what Salazar’s crew are made of!”
It was a very different Slytherin team from the one at the beginning of the season. Against Gryffindor, they’d been complacent, and Potter had torn them apart. Against Ravenclaw, from what Scorpius had heard, the new Slytherin team hadn’t gelled at all. Vaisey’s brother, Gerald, had not been able to save them from a humiliating defeat. This team were raw but had a flicker of passion about them. Watching from above, Scorpius felt a pang. He envied Nott, screeching through the sky, enjoying her game.
If only I had one more year.
He flew past the Gryffindor stand, and smiled, remembering the reception that had greeted them. In the normal run of things, loud boos emanated from the stand decked in red and gold, but for this game, it was different. There were no catcalls “ there were no cheers either “ but there was a rippling of applause when Scorpius and Vaisey’s names were announced.
Hugo Weasley had asked for respect and acknowledgement of the seventh year players making their final appearances at Hogwarts. Vaisey had raised his eyebrows, the gesture saying he wasn’t fooled. Both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw needed Slytherin to win, if they were to stand any chance at claiming the Cup.
“You’re slow today, Malfoy!” Sarah Jones called as she flew past him. “Afraid you’ll fall.”
“Don’t worry about me, Jones,” he yelled as she flew in circles near the Gryffindors. “You won’t see me when I get moving.”
“Think you stand a chance?” she mocked.
He scowled. At the end of last year, all the Seekers had feared him. Falling off his broom had showed he was human.
A shot from below alerted them both to the action. Flint had fired a Bludger at Cadwallader, earning Hufflepuff a penalty for the unprovoked attack. Scorpius groaned as the Quaffle flew through the left hoop, their new Keeper having dived to the right.
“Nooo,” he heard someone yelp, above the groans from the Gryffindors, and glancing sideways, he spied Lily.
He’d been scanning the stand surreptitiously since the game began, but hadn’t seen her. Unsurprising, since she’d scraped her hair back under a green beret and was sitting right at the back. Around her neck, he saw something glinting, and he grinned. Lily was wearing his necklace, fingering the sun charm between her fingers and holding it against her lips.
‘Good luck,’ she mouthed.
Risking a small grin, he sped away, lilting along on the air, still searching for the Snitch. Jones tailed him. He was getting rather sick of her persistence. Whilst he knew he could out-fly her, she would not stop talking and it was doing his head in.
“You got a boyfriend, Jones?” he asked.
“No,” she replied. “Are you asking?”
“Merlin no. Just that it really doesn’t surprise me. Your mouth doesn’t stop moving. Are you hoping to swallow the Snitch and impress Mrs Potter?”
“Is she here?”
He nodded, and started to point her out, then faltered. It rarely happened so early in a game. In his memory, he could only remember once being in a match where the Snitch had appeared in the first fifteen minutes, but just above Mrs Longbottom’s head, he could see something golden hovering in her birds’ nest of a hairstyle. Jones hadn’t noticed; she was too busy gawping at James Potter, who was lounging in his seat, chatting to his mum.
No one had noticed, not even Mrs Longbottom, who seemed to think the Snitch wings were some sort of buzzing bee, for she flapped her hand at it.
Don’t move, you silly witch, he thought desperately. He needed to get there “ fast.
Scorpius kicked back and accelerated with all the force he could muster. They were close to the stand, too close for safety’s sake, and if he carried on flying like this he’d hit Mrs Longbottom in the face.
Jones had realised now, and was following full pelt behind him, but her broom wasn’t a good one, and her technique was slowing her down.
The game was in full flow; Scorpius could hear cheers but didn’t know who’d scored. The Snitch was still there, and he was still flying towards it.
“Merlin, Malfoy’s gone mad again. Obviously doesn’t like the fact that Hufflepuff have scored,” Hugo announced, adding in a nervous voice, “Uh, is he trying to take me out, again?”
“No, you twat,” Scorpius muttered. He didn’t want to hurt anyone“ not even Weasley “ so, rising slightly in the air, he lifted his legs and twined them around the broom shaft, streamlining his body. Then, as he skimmed over the teachers, ignoring Professor Vector’s furious cry, he reached down with his hand and plucked the Snitch out of Mrs Longbottom’s hair, just as Jones ploughed into the box, landing on James Potter’s lap.
“YES!” Scorpius shouted to the air, his face breaking into a huge smile.
“Slytherin WIN!” Hugo declared to the crowd, and for once he didn’t sound annoyed.
Scorpius stayed in the changing room after the others had left. Luxuriating in the unusually hot showers, he closed his eyes as he let the water cascade over him and relived the game. He laughed when he remembered Lily jumping up from her seat and losing her hat before being pulled down by her giggling cousin, Roxanne.
His last game. He’d wanted it to go on forever, but in the end it had been his quickest, lasting a mere thirteen minutes. As he stepped out of the shower and wrapped his green and silver towel around him, he heard the door open.
“Your broom’s by the door, Johnson,” he muttered, not looking up.
“It felt good, didn’t it?”
“Lily, what are you doing here?” He smiled nervously, delighted to see her, but also acutely aware that he was sopping wet and naked apart from the towel around his waist.
“I wanted to congratulate you, of course.” She stepped towards him, shaking her hair free from the beret. “You were brilliant. I thought you were going to decapitate Mrs Longbottom, but, wow, you moved so quickly.”
She was giggling, sounding nervous, perhaps regretting her decision to come in now she’d seen his state of undress, so he reached across for his shirt and put it on over his still-damp skin.
“You saw it, then?” He was surprised, because most people, including the teachers had been watching the game.
“I’m like you,” she replied, sitting next to him. “I watch the Seekers, especially when I fancy them.” Reaching across, she kissed him softly on the lips. “You’re very wet. Your hair’s dripping all over me.”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “Shall I dry off first? I could meet you outside in ten minutes.”
She shook her head but resumed kissing him. “I don’t have much time. Professor Longbottom’s invited us for tea and cakes in his room with Mum and James. I said I’d lost my scarf and doubled back to find it.”
“Shame,” he murmured, trailing his lips down to her neck. “I was hoping we could pretend it was your birthday again. And I’m sure we can think of something more interesting to do than eat cake.”
Shifting her onto his lap, his hands slid around her waist, drawing her close to him, kissing her all the while. It was crazy, reckless and anyone could walk in, but when he heard her breathy sighs, he didn’t want to stop. He’d always enjoyed this part of the match, celebrating a win with a girl.
Except this really wasn’t the time, or the place, not when she should be somewhere else, and wasn’t aware of the effect she had on him.
“You’re driving me crazy, Lily Potter,” he groaned, and then with a monumental effort he pulled away. Heaving a sigh, he willed his body to calm down, before kissing her gently on the cheek. “Thank you.”
“What for?” she asked, giggling as she nibbled his ear lobe.
“Coming to see me,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He grinned at her. “And also for trusting me not to ... er ... go too far.”
She stared back at him, no flicker of fear in her eyes, not this time. “I should go,” she said, sounding reluctant and started to push her hair up into her hat.
He smiled at her and twisted a stray lock of her hair through his fingers. “Your hair is incriminating, you know that?”
“Hmm?”
“You left a strand on my robe yesterday and Ariadne found it, I had to tell her it was Hugo’s,” he replied. “Perhaps you should wear that hat all the time.”
Lily pulled away from him, looking grumpy. “How did Ariadne find one of my hairs? How close was she to you?”
Scorpius flipped her nose. “You sound almost jealous.”
“Because she’s your ex-girlfriend and gets to see you more than I do,” Lily complained.
“I don’t want to see her,” he said. “She’s just there. And it’s not my fault I see her more than I see you.”
“Meaning what?”
Pulling off her hat, Scorpius ran his fingers through her hair. Several strands fell loose in his hand and he held them up to her. “I don’t care if people know about us. My family are going to be furious, but then, they’re not happy with me anyway. I don’t give a toss and will happily drape myself all over you in public. You’re the one who’s scared, baby Potter.”
“Don’t call me that!” she snapped, pulling away from him. “And you know why. After the exams, Scorpius. I just don’t need the added hassle.”
“Sorry, I hadn’t realised I was such a hassle,” he muttered. He stood up and turned away from her wondering why this mattered so much to him. Keeping it a secret was far easier, so why did he want it out in the open? “You’d better go.”
He heard her sigh and then listened to her light footsteps as she walked away. Over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of her as she hovered by the door, crestfallen.
“You’re not a hassle,” she muttered. “You’re the only thing at the moment that isn’t.”
He knew he should stop her before she left. It was never good to leave things on a down note, especially as he knew he wasn’t going to get to see her this week what with all the practise sessions her brother had called, but before he could speak, Lily had gone.
“Shit shit shit. Scorpius Malfoy, you really are a prize prick,” he berated himself.
It had been impossible to catch her and talk. He needed to say sorry, but Lily was never around. He didn’t think she was avoiding him, exactly. There had been one moment “ on the Monday - when she’d been hanging around the suits of armour by the entrance to the Dungeons, but he’d been clattering up the stairs and bawling out the first years, who were being annoyingly boisterous, so hadn’t had a chance to stop. Then on the Wednesday, which she usually had free, he waited in the Entrance Hall after lunch, but she’d started moaning loudly to Hugo about Rose tutoring her in the afternoon when she’d much rather be flying. Taking the hint, Scorpius was about to stomp off to the Dungeons, when he had a better idea. Striding purposefully up the stairs, and twisting his way through the corridors, he didn’t stop until he reached the West Tower. Not having an owl, Scorpius didn’t often bother with the Owlery unless he needed to send a school owl, but he knew who would be in here.
True to form, Pomme was pirouetting in the air when he walked in. The other, far more formal owls, were clicking their beaks at him in a most disapproving manner. Scorpius chuckled, and hearing the noise, Pomme stopped his twirling and chirruped. He flopped down to Scorpius’ outstretched hand and gently pecked his finger. Touched that he was being treated with something approaching affection, Scorpius reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather manky chocolate frog, and from the other pocket a large red apple.
“Right, Pomme,” he said sternly. “You are not to eat this apple. This is for your mistress. I will, however, give you the chocolate. Is that a deal?”
Then, reaching for a square of parchment, Scorpius started to write.
‘Lily Luna, the Sun is sorry,’ Merlin, how lame was he?
The trouble, he knew, was that he so very rarely apologised for anything, that he found it difficult to sound sincere.
‘Lily, I was a prat and I’m sorry “ ‘
He sighed as he dipped the quill back in the small pot of ink. Thinking back to the start of this very strange relationship, he remembered her worries about her brother’s opinion, her shame at not being clever enough and her fierce protectiveness for them all. She loved them, and they, he was beginning to realise, loved her just as fiercely back.
‘I’ll take this as slow and as secretly as you want, Apple-Queen.
Love S.H.M. xxx’
He was about to fold it up and insert it into the apple when he thought of something else.
‘PS: Good luck on Saturday and watch out for Belby “ he’s an utter git. No style, just a dirty bastard.’
The weekend brought a change in the weather. For the Slytherin game, the crowd had been huddled in cloaks and scarves to protect them against the wind, but now the April gusts had given way to sunshine. Spring had arrived and the crowds were happy.
Scorpius, sitting at the front of the Slytherin stand, scanned the sky. It was cloudless, the sun shining brightly which would be murder for someone trying to spot a glistening golden ball. Across the field, he saw Hugo Weasley take his seat next to Professor Goldstein, and behind him, again, sat Lily’s mum and brother.
“Eyeing up your boyfriend, Scorpy,” Ariadne remarked, panting slightly as she squeezed past him to get to her seat.
“After you, Ariadne, even Weasley would be a step up,” he replied. “What have you done with Vaisey? Shagged him to death?”
“He ran back to get my hat,” she said, adding waspishly. “So considerate, not at all like you.”
“Is that supposed to shame me?” he asked, and yawned. “Won’t work, Ariadne.”
A cheer rang out before she could splutter a reply. Scorpius leant forwards, spying the teams entering the stadium. Potter led out the Gryffindors, standing proud as Hugo introduced the team. Scorpius’ eyes were only on one player, though. He caught his breath; she looked so slight as she walked out behind Cootes.
His eyes flicked to the Ravenclaws. The arithmetic was complicated, but if Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor by more than ninety points, then they were champions. Gryffindor, due to their good result over Slytherin and their narrow loss by Hufflepuff, only needed to win by fifty. They had the advantage, but Ravenclaw were a tough team.
Vaisey appeared, apologising to Scorpius for walking in front, and sat next to Ariadne. “Think Ravenclaw can do it?” he mused.
Scorpius pulled a face. “Depends if Potter gets stage fright in front of his mummy. I hate to say it, but they were bloody good against us.”
“Only because you fell off,” Ariadne put in. She entwined her arm in Vaisey’s and pulled him towards her, deliberately breaking up the camaraderie between the pair of them.
The whistle blew and the teams mounted their brooms. Lily was flying her Nimbus, the broom her dad had bought her for Christmas. Ultra reliable, it suited her flying style “ agile and nippy in the air. He watched her take off, trying to hide the broad grin on his face as she swerved flashily in front of the Gryffindor stand.
Then her broom bucked.
At first, it wasn’t much. At least, no one who gave her a cursory glance would have commented because Lily was still an inexperienced player and a small jerk on the broom when the player was unbalanced was nothing. But Scorpius was watching her face; he saw the alarm and felt uneasy.
It bucked again. This time she gave a small yelp and gripped the broom tighter, turning it sharply around in the air. The Gryffindors cheered, thinking she was grandstanding, but Scorpius knew she was trying to tame the errant broom, hoping that by jerking it around any glitch would be ironed out.
“Lily, stop messing about,” Albus yelled. “Game’s about to start.”
“I’m not!” she shouted. “The broom’s twitching.”
“Merlin, she’s showing off in front of her mummy, isn’t she?” Ariadne drawled. “I remember Dad telling me stories about the famous Harry Potter. Always claimed to have problems with his broom.”
There was something odd going on. Scorpius knew that Lily wasn’t as experienced a game player as he was, but she could fly. She had years of experience, half of it long before she came to Hogwarts. And that was her broom; she knew it as intimately as he knew his Firebolt X.
He stared at Lily again. She was circling the sky, the broom no longer twitching as she shot him a quick glance. Perhaps it was just inexperience. Scorpius stopped gripping the rail quite so tightly and took a small breath. She’d be okay; this was just another game and no one was going to fall.
Just as the whistle blew for the start, her broom bucked again. Lily shrieked as it tossed her into the air. One hand stayed on the broom handle, but she was struggling “ almost comically “ to get back on. Alongside her, Belby was laughing. He leant across to help her back, but as he did, the broom lurched away, spiralling downwards.
Scorpius’ heart was thumping in his chest. He shouted out, a dry rasping cry, as he fumbled for his wand. Lily was still hanging on, but he could see the anxiety etched on her face, the fear she’d fall now giving way to the worst possible feeling “ panic.
“Dear oh, dear, she’s not very good, is she?” whispered Ariadne.
The broom continued twirling, and Lily was being shaken like a rag doll. The harder she tried to get a better grip, the more the broom reacted.
Scorpius extracted his wand, desperately trying to think of a spell that could slow her down or at least right the broom. “Hold on!” he shouted, but his words were lost amongst the shrieks of the crowd who had finally woken up to what was going on.
Then, just as he could see her fingers slipping, and heard her shriek, Albus raced through the air, not even stopping when a Bludger powered into his shoulder. Just at the point where Scorpius could see Lily had given up, he brother caught her by the arm and heaved her onto his broom.
“Oh, thank Merlin,” Scorpius gasped, his hands shaking, his knuckles white and his heart still pounding. He ached to race down to her, but she was now on the ground, surrounded by her teammates. Alongside him, even Ariadne looked relieved. She was clutching Vaisey’s arm, looking more disturbed than Scorpius thought possible.
It seemed like a lifetime, but was only a matter of minutes before Lily stood up, wobbling slightly, but with a smile on her face. Her gestures to the referee implied that the broom had suddenly become uncontrollable, and Scorpius saw her searching the sky as she tried to explain. But the broom wasn’t there. Once she had lost her grip, it had flown, higher and higher, the wind currents whisking it away.
Scorpius leapt up from his seat. It was a new broom, and should not have reacted that way, but without the tangible evidence, Lily would be held at fault. There would be no time to get a decent replacement; the referee would let her fly, but on a school broom.
Pushing past the stragglers who were late to their seats, Scorpius ran down the wooden steps and towards the broom shed. Sighting her loping towards the shed, he lifted his wand. “Accio, Firebolt X!”
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, breathless from the run, although it was only a short way to the pitch.
“Getting you a decent broom,” he muttered, scanning the sky. “Are you okay?”
Lily shuffled her feet, as she caught her breath back. “I feel stupid, but I’m not hurt. Merlin, my flying is getting as bad as my school marks.”
“Your broom was hexed,” he said abruptly. “Lily, I was watching and no one could have stayed on.”
“Hexed?” She laughed. “Don’t be so silly. Who is going to do that? It’s not like Dad when people wanted to kill him. It’s only Quidditch.”
“It was hexed,” he insisted. “If that was a normal broom, and a bit of bad flying, then it would have fallen to the ground with you, and not taken off again “ not in this weather.”
She started to speak, perhaps to stutter a denial, but the sudden arrival of his broom scorching through the air, silenced her.
“Take it,” he muttered, thrusting it into her arms. “Use my broom and show them all what a brilliant flyer you are.”
“Your Firebolt X,” she said in awe. “Scorpius, I can’t.”
“Why? Because you want to keep us secret?” he asked, trying not to sound bitter. “Look, I’ll scratch the name off, or change the colour or something, rough it up a bit.”
“No, silly,” she whispered. “I’m not good enough for this broom. It bucked Vaisey off.”
“Gerald Vaisey can’t fly for toffee,” he said, laughing. “Plus he didn’t practise. You’ve been on this.” Pulling her close he tilted her chin up with his fingers and kissed her hard on the mouth, leaving her breathless. “Get on my broom and go and win that bloody game and the Cup, baby Potter.”
From the ground, they could hear shouts, the game had resumed without her and she had to get back. Wasting one last precious second, she kissed him again and then grabbed his broom.
“If we win, you’re not to call me baby Potter, ever again,” she cried as she ran back to the match.
“It’s a deal,” he replied. “One thing, though.”
“What?” She faltered.
“You need to be fifty points clear, baby Potter. Don’t make the catch till then.”
She laughed as she ran, her red hair lilting in the gentle breeze, and Scorpius laughed with her. His girl on his broom. It was going to be a cracking match.
Albus Potter was in barnstorming form. No longer hampered by the nerves that had obviously gripped him in the last match, he was putting together a series of throws with his Chasers that left the crowd gasping in awe. Scorpius allowed himself a few brief glimpses away from Lily, to watch Potter sear through the Ravenclaw defence and marvelled at the difference a change in position could do. As a Seeker, Potter had been distracted by the action, unable to focus unless it was to follow the other Seeker, or make a try for the catch. He belonged in the thick of the action, just as Scorpius and Lily belonged apart from it.
Lily and Belby had very little to do. The Snitch had made one very brief appearance, which Lily had reached for, but almost as quickly, it had disappeared before she was close. She’d smiled ruefully then swung the broom around and started scanning the horizon again.
“Bugger!” exclaimed Vaisey, as Thomas intercepted a pass and threw it straight to Potter. “We’re going to have to give up our cup to the smug git.”
“Maybe Ravenclaw will pull something out of the bag,” Ariadne replied, but her voice sounded dull, no longer interested in the outcome.
Something clicked in Scorpius’ brain, but before he could say a thing, there was a shout from Hugo.
“He’s seen the Snitch. Belby is flying towards it with Potter hard on his tail. Wow, for an old school broom, she is getting some acceleration out of that. It’s almost as if ...” He stopped, perhaps unable to believe his eyes, as Lily, who’d been two lengths behind, gathered speed. Streamlining herself across the broom, she shot forwards, doing her level best to stop Belby from batting the Snitch away.
“Don’t get too close to him!” Scorpius yelled, unable to stop himself. “He’ll foul you!”
So intent on capturing her prize, she didn’t heed his warning, but flew alongside Belby. He stuck his hand out to grab at her, but she was ready, and with a swift kick, knocked his hand away. Scorpius leant forwards in his seat, watching her swerve under Belby. Living every move with her, Scorpius stretched at his hand, grabbing at air, just as she made the catch.
“GRY... GRY... GRY ...” Hugo stammered into the megaphone. The crowd started to laugh. “LILY POTTER MAKES THE CATCH. WE WIN!” he screeched, his voice thick with emotion.
Scorpius sat back down, utterly relieved and strangely triumphant at his bitterest rival’s victory. Lily was surrounded by her teammates, accepting their hugs and sloppy kisses (Scorpius growled when he saw Cootes grab her around the waist, then smirked when she pushed him away). Flying as a team, they approached the teachers’ stand, accepting the applause from a thoroughly overexcited Professor Longbottom and Lavender Zabini, who was whooping and laughing as they flew past. Ginny Potter was standing up, her face split into a grin as she cheered her children and her former team.
And alongside her, grinning broadly, was her husband.
“Where the hell did Harry Potter come from?” Vaisey yelled over the cheers. “He wasn’t there before, was he?”
Scorpius shook his head but didn’t comment. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he remembered a story about the Battle, how Harry had disappeared when the snake had been killed, and reappeared in the thick of the fight. His Invisibility Cloak was part of the legend, now.
Despite her dad’s sudden appearance, it was Lily’s moment. Scorpius watched the tears fall down her cheeks, as she hugged her brother, and he wondered whether he’d ever felt that high after a victory. Twisting around, she freed herself and then hovered in the air, staring only at Scorpius. He stared back, unable to look away.
She flew towards the Slytherin stand. The gesture could have been seen as provocative, and some of the Slytherins began catcalling her. But he knew better and stood up to applaud.
Landing on the ledge, Lily wrapped her arms around him.
“You did it. You’re amazing. You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful, Lily Potter, and boy oh boy you can fly.” He gulped, aware he was babbling now, and heard the deathly silence around him. “And you’re ... uh ... kissing me. In front of everyone. In front of your parents.”
“I know,” she said and started to giggle. “You helped us win and no one is going to take that away from us.”
“I thought you wanted to wait until after your OWLs.”
“I don’t care anymore,” she replied. “And after lending me your broom, Dad’s going to love you.” She pulled herself off him, and smiled at the Slytherins who were gaping at them both then sat back on the broom. “Get on, I think it’s time I introduced you properly.”
He complied with a grin, but as they approached the teacher’s stand, it wasn’t Harry who caused his heart to thump with trepidation. If looks were Avada Kedavras, then he’d be dead under the glare of Ginny Potter.