He keeps turning the pages. A Quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. Albus, a row of seats away from him. Little Scorpius had been entranced by his cheeks, whipped red by the wind (he wasted many words describing them, only to sketch them anyway). Another attempt to talk to him. Albus growled, "Get lost," which twelve-year-old Scorpius took as a sign that he would soon start warming up to him.