"You... don't remember?" His brow furrowed, Draco looks at him. Scorpius shakes his head. "When you were fourteen - after Christmas, I think it was - you were standing outside the cellar door, throwing in diary after diary. I asked you what you were up to, and you shouted in my face that you didn't need any more of that rubbish." Inappropriately, a small smile creeps across his face as he thinks back. "So much for that."