Soldiers and Serpents //Scorbus

61 Forgiveness ⚠️

Scorpius pulled the cigarette from his lips, sitting on the balcony suspended away from the house. This was his favorite thing about the House of Black. Each bedroom had a personal balcony. And since the two bedrooms on the fourth floor- Scorpius's and Orions's- faced the street, he could see everything from here. He could see muggles walking below on the sidewalk. They didn't seem to see the House.

And because of the warding and magic on this place, it was likely that they couldn't. The outside of 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't as dingy as it once was. With the light flickering outside the front door. The dirt built up on the paint. The cobwebs. Scorpius managed to clear all that away with magic. The lawn was bright as everyone else's on the street, now.

Not that it mattered. Muggles couldn't even see the front of the house. It was like it wasn't even there. But Scorpius could see it. And so it mattered to him.

The sliding glass door was open to his room, and Missy watched him from within, clearly not going to risk walking out on the balcony. His owl though, Feyre, perched on the railing. Her feathers fluffed up from the cold breeze. It was summer, but Scorpius let that instinctual magic flow out of him and into the sky.

It wasn't unmanageable. But the cloud cover and cool breeze allowed him to wear his favorite hoodie- and covered up that horrendous scar up his arm. Harry Potter had already left, not having gotten what he came for. After Scorpius disappeared into his room, Raven and Orion and Michael's briefings went quickly. The Auror realized that none of them would be answering his questions. None of them would offer names for who was at the party. None of them gave their own personal telling of the story.

It was as Scorpius planned. They weren't working with the ministry anymore. And in a few days, he was sure Narcissa would be returned here. After that, there was no reason to talk to Harry Potter ever again.

He wouldn't be so lucky. Scorpius's pessimism reminded him that it would be impossible to shake Harry Potter. The lead auror. As long as war was eminent, and Selwyn was out there, he'd be a constant annoyance.

There was no way to shake him.

Perhaps Scorpius could do some spell on the house. So that Harry couldn't access it. As though he was a muggle himself. Even if there wasn't a spell like that out there, Scorpius could manufacture one himself. He was clever enough. He just had to put in the time and effort.

It's definitely not something he's up to for the rest of the day. Perhaps not even tomorrow.

Scorpius sat on the rough floor of the balcony, adding to his pile of cigarette buds. His eyes stung from crying earlier, and he knew they were probably red and puffy. And the smoking wasn't helping. He'd been up here alone for awhile now. Scheming and depressing, as you do on a fourth floor balcony. His stomach gurgled in hunger. He couldn't bring himself to go down to the kitchens to eat something.

Maybe Kreacher would come to check on him, and he could grab him something. The house elf may be a grouch, but he didn't ever complain about tasks like that. Not since Scorpius has been living here.

Scorpius closed his eyes against the overcast sky, and focused ever so slightly. A breeze picked up, rustling the trees below. He looked down as a group of friends exclaimed at the sudden wind, laughing and making jokes. Feyre stretched out her wings, and gave a few supporting flaps of her wings before folding back up. The air seemed to drop in temperature just a bit, but Scorpius's smoke warmed him from inside.

The sound of his bedroom door opening made him break concentration, and look over from where he sat. His sister walked in, holding her hands behind her back. "Hey, what are you doing?" She walked over, pausing just inside the room, leaning her head out of the open door to the balcony. Her long platinum hair was pulled into Dutch braids, pulled in front of an Nirvana tee shirt. She had gone for comfort over style today.