~~::Potters Fall for Redheads::~~
It’s a proven fact. Potters do fall for the redheads; James for Lily and Harry for Ginny. Why is this? I have not a clue, and I don’t really plan on answering that question.
But what I will look into is how one Potter broke the chain of “redheaded women”. No, not James Jr. He went on to marry a redhead that he met in Hogwarts, as Potter tradition expected him to. Who I’m talking about is Albus. Yes, Albus the little worrywart we met on the platform between barriers nine and ten, going to Hogwarts for the very first time. But I’ll let you figure out the rest for yourself, now. I’m sure you’ll be able to.
Huffing and puffing as he dragged his heavy trunk along the seventh train corridor he had gone down in the last ten minutes, Albus Potter stopped to rest a moment, glancing around for an empty compartment. Seeing none, he sighed and picked up the handle of his trunk and moved on farther down the scarlet train.
Up ahead of him, someone else was doing the exact same thing, only she had to worry about her long dark hair getting in her face, constantly. Sighing, she saw an empty compartment at last, and pulled the rattling door open, and shoved her trunk inside. Pulling out her wand, she tapped the trunk and muttered, “Wingardium Leviosa.” Her father had told her that he didn’t want her to be too much like him, so she had been taught the first few basic spells the few months before school resumed.
Settling into one of the benches, making puffs of dust explode from them, she sat down and swung her legs from the just a bit too high benches. Struck by a flight of whimsy, she turned her head so that she looked out the window to her right, out into the corridor. She saw a boy with tousled black hair, gazing dully into the compartments around him, sighing and bending down. The girl stood and went over to the door, wrenching it open again.
“Excuse me,” she said, her voice soft, just like her mother’s, only hers was a bit more direct, and not so dreamy. “Do you need somewhere to sit?”
The boy nodded with a relieved look on his face. “Sorry, Azalea; I didn’t see you in there, elsewise, I’d have joined you.”
She smiled a bright, white toothed smile, standing aside to let him in. “Quite alright,” she said, cheerfully. Albus dragged his trunk inside, and proceeded to try to put it into one of the overhead compartments. Struggling as he was, Azalea took pity on him and went over to him.
“Here, let me try,” she said. He looked at her incredulously, since she was shorter and leaner than he, but he saw that she had her wand out, so he stepped aside.
“Wingardium Levisoa!” she said, sending Albus’ trunk, with the emblazoned ‘AP’ into the rack above his head with the same ease as her own. She smiled over to the now seated Albus who smiled back in thanks, his legs swinging as well, but his toes brushed the ancient carpeting as Azalea’s did not.
The small carriage compartment fell into silence, neither child having anything to say. They only knew each other’s names and faces from reunions their parent’s held every year to celebrate the vanquishing of the Dark Lord. Other than that, they had had no previous contact with each other. To their advantage, two people walked by the door, doubled back and came in.
“Albus, there you are!” exclaimed his cousin, Rose. “I was wondering where you had gone; don’t you remember you promised me a seat?”
Albus’ cheeks went a little pink as he turned his face away from the glaring look he was getting from Rose. “Now that I think about it, yeah, I guess so.”
Rolling her eyes at her cousin, she sat down next to him, casually flicking her wand at hers and her companion’s trunks, inaudibly muttering, “Locomotor Trunks!” Being Hermione Weasley’s child, she had naturally excelled in the spell casting area of wizarding expertise.
“Have you two met Scorpius?” said Rose, gesturing to a blonde boy Albus faintly recognized from the platform. Just by the way he held his head and his blonde hair Albus could tell that he was a Malfoy. Of course, for courtesy’s sake, the Malfoy family had been invited to all the get-togethers, but had never come to any of them, claiming business matters and pre-arranged other frivolities. Everyone knew that they were just avoiding the issue, but it had become habit to invite them, nonetheless.
“In passing,” said Azalea, smiling dreamily over to him. She pulled a hair-tie from her wrist and deftly pulled her lower-back length hair up in a ponytail, bringing it up about an inch or two. “You’re Draco Malfoy’s son, right?”
“Yes,” said Scorpius, the first time he had spoken. He was looking to his hands, where his thumbs twiddled. “Yes, that’s my father.”
Oblivious to his obvious uneasiness, Azalea asked, “I didn’t see your mum on the platform. What’s her name?”
Scorpius looked straight into Azalea’s eyes, unblinkingly. “What does her name matter to you?”
Hardly unsettled, Azalea continued, shrugging. “I was just asking.”
“Who are your parents?” Scorpius asked. He chided himself as soon as he had said it. He didn’t need to scare these people off just after he met them; they were alright. He hated to admit it, but it seemed as though these people knew more about him, then he about them. But he didn’t want to stay on the previous subject.
“Neville and Luna Longbottom,” Azalea said matter-of-factly, rapidly plaiting her ponytail and fastening it with another hair tie.
Scorpius nodded to show he knew them, just not very well. He turned to look at the others, giving them a look that meant ‘same question’.
“Ron and Hermione Weasley,” said Rose straightforwardly. Rose had taken pity upon his lost gaze, twin to the one that Albus had had as he walked down the same train corridors, and had invited him to join her. She had introduced herself then, but had failed to mention her last name until that moment; the only reaction from the blonde boy was the delicate raise of an eyebrow, but nothing more as he turned to the raven haired boy.
“Harry and Ginny Potter,” said Albus, in a bored voice that matched Rose’s, as if they said their parents’ names quite often.
Scorpius nodded and smiled wanly, very similarly to his father’s smirk. “I should have guessed it for you to,” he said, nodding to Rose and Albus. When they looked at him blankly, he laughed; “Your hair.”
On impulse, both parties glanced at their hair and then at each other, and simultaneously started laughing along with Scorpius and Azalea, realizing how right he was, Rose’s long red tresses and Albus’ messy black tangles very distinctive in the wizarding world.
Little did they know that they’d be laughing very often with each other, among other things.