Chapter image by ChoS_sista_gurl @ TDA
My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, son of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy. Over the years the identity of my father has caused a stir amongst some. Being directly related to more than one Death Eater wasn’t something most people considered to be favorable. Not that it bothered me, of course. My family was my family. Whoever didn’t like it could shove off.
It was rather early on that I discovered that the sins of the father often reflect on the son. I had only been attending Hogwarts for a matter of weeks when it became abundantly clear that the children of my father’s former classmates- the ones he was rather unfriendly with of course- would hold against me who my father was. I hadn’t intended to befriend any of them, of course. It was just rather pathetic that they associated me with the actions of my family when they hadn’t even gotten a chance to know whether or not their assumptions were correct.
No, I hadn’t intended on getting close to any of them- not the children of the Potter and Weasley families. My time was better spent avoiding them and their ridiculous opinions of who I was. Those opinions they formed based upon who my father- and most likely my grandfather- happened to be.
It wasn’t until fifth year that I was even in close contact with any of them. Rose Weasley- a know it all just like her mother had apparently been- was the one to manage to maneuver her way into my life. How she had managed to do that I’m not even sure, but she waltzed right into it like she belonged there, taking every opportunity she could to project herself further into my being.
I had thought she was a rather innocent one- always with the sweet smiles and the smart answers. But looks, I found out the hard way, were often deceiving. It was always the innocent ones that surprised you, because even the innocent could be cruel. Even the innocent could learn just how to break a person down.
Scorpius Malfoy couldn’t help but study her with a great intensity. It fascinated him to watch her as she concentrated, the end of her quill brushing against her bottom lip, the feather making a lazy line across her skin as she read the page in front of her, lips parted slightly, tongue just barely visible between her teeth. He wasn’t sure it if was more amusing or more, well, hot for lack of a better term. He couldn’t help but wonder if she concentrated on everything in her life as much as she did this.
Her gaze lifted and met his, blue eyes calm and empty. This wasn’t the first time he had been caught looking at her- nor would it be the last he was sure- but every time her gaze rose to meet his he couldn’t help but wonder at the fact that she had known he was looking at her. He was pretty sure he wasn’t being overtly obvious about it, but he could have been mistaken. It was entirely possible that he was horrid at hiding his fascination with her.
Her eyelids dropped half way and she looked at him from under her eyelashes. The quill moved to the corner of her mouth as her tongue slipped out, licking her lips. He swallowed harshly, watching this girl’s every move. She was aware, he decided then, of every single time his gaze moved to her, of every single thought inside of his head even. She knew his gaze had followed her tongue across that bottom lip as though in slow motion. She knew, he was sure, she he briefly pictured himself running his tongue over the same line hers had just gone. That he wanted to press his lips against hers, make her whimper and pant and cling to his shirt as though it were her only lifeline in this world. He was positive that she had some kind of a scheme brewing up inside of her head, but what it was he had absolutely no clue.
Then, her gaze left his face as she turned to look at her cousin. Her lips barely parted as they whispered, her head bowed down close to his. He tried to figure out what they were saying by following the shapes their lips made, but hers were moving too slightly to be deciphered.
She wasn’t stunningly beautiful he noted. Of course she wasn’t unattractive either, but there was nothing about her that would make someone stop on the street and do a double take. Well, perhaps her eyes would draw some attention- they were bright and lovely and he could imagine that people took notice to that, but beyond that she was on the more attractive side of average. And yet there was something about her that had drawn him in, made him unable to stop himself when the desire to look at her rose up inside of him. Even now as she had her head bent towards her cousin, whispering in his ear, he couldn’t bring himself to look away.
Then her eyes shifted to him, gazing at him with her peripheral vision. The edge of her mouth curled up, threatening to spill forth into an honest to goodness smile. And as quickly as her eyes had jumped to him they shifted back to the paper in front of her, quill running a line across her bottom lip every so often as she read. But his eyes remained on her, unable to bring himself to turn away.
She was waiting in the hallway. He noticed her the moment he stepped outside, her back pressed against one of the windowsills, legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She had her elbows resting on the wood behind her, arching her back slightly. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, her hair falling over one shoulder. Everything about her was screaming casual- save the smile on her face. It was sexual and alluring. And her gaze was directly on him. “You were watching me in class again today.”
He strode across the hall, closing the distance between them so others wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. The last thing he needed was for word to get around that he was lusting after a Weasley. Of course it wasn’t that far from the truth but that was neither here nor there. “I watch people every day,” he replied coolly. “What makes you think you were a special case?”
“You watch me often.” Her hand shot up, gripping the bottom of his tie, playing with it as though she had done that a million times before. “Do I fascinate you that much?”
He leaned forward, resting one hand on the wood right next to her hip. The action didn’t put them that close but he was sure anyone who was passing by would mistake it for a little rendezvous between lovers rather than a rather strange conversation between classmates. “Girls fascinate me. You’re all rather strange creatures, you know. But that thing you do is rather…amusing.”
“What thing might that be?”
“With your quill. You run it over your lip, you know. Like you’re caressing yourself with it.”
“It feels nice.” It was such a simple and yet seemingly honest answer that he almost laughed right then and there. Of course it felt nice, but the answer wasn’t what he had expected. He expected her to deny doing it all that often or to question why he even paid that close attention to what she was doing. But that answer? It wasn’t something he ever would have expected from Rose Weasley. “I rather enjoy it.”
“Other things would feel better than that, you know.” He would admit to himself that yes, he was
flirting with her, but it was harmless. He meant nothing by it and he was sure she would realize that on her own, but it was rather fun at times to flirt around with girls and see how they reacted. Often times they would blush and giggle like their heads were filled with air.
That didn’t happen with her however, much to his great surprise. Her cheeks didn’t stain with a dark crimson nor did she break down into a fit of giggles like some simpering school girl with a crush. No, instead a slow smile spread over her face. “Other things, huh?”
“Yes. Many things, actually.”
“What sorts of things?”
“Can’t figure that one out for yourself, Weasley? Need people to spell it out for you?”
“Humor me, Malfoy.” She tugged slightly on his tie, pulling his face closer to his. Her breath was warm on his face and if his gaze flickered down he could see the pink of her gum moving around behind her teeth. “Pretend I’m one of those idiotic girls that fall over every word you say and enlighten me.”
“Are you aware, Weasley, of just how close we are to one another at this very moment? This could cause quite the scandal.”
“And here I thought you enjoyed a good scandal. Isn’t that the Malfoy way?”
“I suppose it can be,” he conceded, inclining his head slightly as though he were in thought. “I heard in his school years my father had a bit of…I guess you could call it a flare for the dramatic.”
“From what I hear your father was an outright prat.”
“That’s how some people would have classified him, yes.” His gaze returned to her face, but the expression in his eyes had changed, going from mild amusement to annoyance in a flash. “And I suppose your family told you this. Don’t bother answering the question, Weasley, I know the answer. But what your family never did was actually try to learn anything about who my father was beyond the theatrics. He, like them, was a child. Like we are. And children, they tend to do stupid things, don’t they? Look at the things your family got into while they were in school.”
“There’s no need to be defensive.” Her tone hadn’t changed. She seemed as though she were playing some game. It was a bit unnerving. “I’m not trying to insult you, Malfoy. I would have to say you’re definitely less of a prat than your father supposedly was in school. Still a prat, mind you, but not nearly as bad. Tolerable even.”
“Was that supposed to be a compliment or an insult, Weasley?”
“A backhanded compliment, actually. Does that bother you?”
“Not really. I’m actually rather used to it by now.” But he dropped his book bag to the floor and reached over, gently prying her fingers off of his tie like he was suddenly disgusted by being that close to her. “I’m rather used to it, as you well know. You’re not the only one who regards my family as villainous, you know.”
“Loved by some, hated by others. Aren’t we all that way?”
“My you're being philosophical. How…adorable.” Once he had pried her fingers off of his tie and the strip of fabric was free he smoothed it down, eyes staying fixed on her face. “Some of us are hated more than others, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s very true.” Her mouth spread out into that smile again, her eyes shining with amusement and mischief. “You didn’t answer me before, you know.”
“What would feel better.”
“As I said: a great many things. Don’t hold so much stock in a feather.” His hand shot up quick enough to make her blink and he ran the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip. “But you’re going to have to figure those things out for yourself.”
“Are you that naïve, Malfoy?”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“I already know the answer to the question. I just wanted to see if you were brave enough to say it.” The sparkle in her eyes seemed to get brighter, so much so that he found himself unable to look away. Then her tongue slid out from between her parted lips, lashing quickly across the pad of his thumb before she was gently moving him back from her, watching him struggle to walk backwards without stumbling. “I know a great deal of things, Malfoy. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll figure me out one day. But I think not.”
Scorpius drew his hand to his chest as he watched her go down the halls, hips swinging in a way he could tell was natural and not practiced like so many other girls. Rose Weasley, he had decided, was a mystery. And he was determined to figure her out.
Let the games begin.