*killing

Scorpius knows exactly who Albus is when they meet in the train carriage. He’s known for years that Harry Potter had a son his age who would probably be in his class at school. He knows that that kid is called Al. He’s seen pictures of him in the paper, of course he has.

Scorpius doesn’t even dare to dream of becoming friends with Harry Potter’s son. He imagines going to Hogwarts and having friends like Harry did, but he doesn’t think for a second that Al would give him any attention. Al is a Potter, and Scorpius is a Malfoy. Gryffindor and Slytherin, most likely, they’ll never even interact.

And then Scorpius is on the Hogwarts express and he hears the carriage door open, and he sees that stunningly familiar Potter face. The green eyes and messy black hair, and his heart stops for a second and he doesn’t know what to do. And Al has no idea who he is, clearly, because he asks to come in. So Scorpius goes out of his way to give Al every opportunity to leave, but he doesn’t. He stays. And he stays. And he stays.

And Scorpius pretends he’s just any other person. Asks what he wants to be called (Albus), offers him sweets, talks to him about Rose. Albus says he’s staying for Scorpius’s sweets, not for him, but still Scorpius has never been happier, and then Albus laughs at the steam coming from his ears as he eats Pepper Imps, and by the end of the train ride they’ve become friends.

That night when they’re lying in beds next to each other in the Slytherin dorm Scorpius can still hardly comprehend it. He’s living in a dream. Not even a dream, because he didn’t dare dream this. This is pure and utter fantasy, the wildest possible reality, and it’s his reality.

Albus Severus Potter is his friend.