This has been written over a year ago just as book 7 hit the market. Since Rowling had not revealed the identity of Draco Malfoy's wife at the time, I arbitrarily decided that it was to be Cho Chang. I of course know better now, but for the sake of keeping the tone of the story intact, choose to keep the narrative as is. Hopefully the readers will forgive me the sacrilege.
As always, nothing is mine but my own mind. And the idea of Albus Severus Potter = Asp comes from his player in the RP '23 years later'.
Chasing Dragons
glee
Fall 2007
Scorpius Malfoy was a slight thing back in first year. He was fair of eyes, fair of hair, fair of complexion... everything but fair of temper, though he was an obedient child, outwardly. Cho Chang kindly renewed her son's glamour before he left for King's Cross, though he knew that she would have preferred him to look more like her own. Perhaps he will try it, next time.
'Bang!' His train compartment door slammed open.
The boy peeked up from behind the huge tome he was reading, and watched from lowered lashes.
A tall girl-woman shuffled in, harried, with a worn duffel bag, and let herself fall on the seat across his.
"Hey. Hope you don't mind, I need a breathing space for a while. Won't bother you long."
She had a tangled mass of brilliantly coloured hair, exquisite features and a black eye.
Scorpius stared, baffled.
"Don't worry your pretty head about it. They've got it worst than me. Victoire Delacour-Weasley, 7th year Gryffindor."
She held a hand up to him.
So that was the infamous Weasley hair. It didn't look so bad. Scorpius shook her hand firmly, with all the seriousness he could muster, which was not negligible, and announced: "Scorpius Malfoy. New."
"I know. I would remember if I saw you before."
Scorpius smiled, placated. Perhaps she wasn't that bad, for a goody-two-shoes.
She treated him to lunch, and they sat in a comfortable silence until two third-years fell into their compartment in a laughing tangle, one of whom supposedly her cousin and a Potter to boot. Scorpius excused himself and left for more peaceful pastures. The boys ignored him. They were entirely concentrated on Victoire. Scorpius didn't blame them. After all, it was hard to focus on anything else when the fury that was a Delacour-Weasley on rampage was bearing down on you and yanking your ears.
The next time they talked Scorpius was sitting on the roof of the astronomy tower, at six in the morning a Saturday. She just finished Quidditch practice, and was still garbed in full flying regalia.
"It's going to rain."
Scorpius jumped, flipped his wand out and raised a barrier all within a second.
"My, aren't you paranoid."
"You have your wand out too."
Victoire flickered her eyes down. Indeed. She seemed half-surprised, half-exasperated at herself for a passing moment, but shrugged it off. She stared back straight into his eyes, both eyebrows raised. "It tends to happen when somebody's pointing things at me."
After three seconds of silence, they both lowered their weapons in a silent consensus, and sat back. It was very tiring locking arms in that position without the support of adrenaline.
"What do you want," Scorpius asked sullenly. He hated being sneaked up upon.
"Nothing. Saw a flicker up high, and wondered who was suicidal enough to sit that high in this sort of weather. Shouldn't have bothered," Victoire added, eyeing his augurey feather cloak.
"Hmph. Women."
She tackled him and pinched his cheeks. "Respect your elders, squirt."
"Geh oof eee!" Scorpius grabbed a lock of her wild mane and yanked, hard.
Victoire hissed, then grinned manically. "This means war!"
She pounced, a hundred and fifty pound of Quidditch gear, wet leather and solid muscles, and started tickling.
Scorpius squeaked (though he vehemently denied that fact afterwards), squirmed away from the evil, evil fingers, and stepped off the highest tower of Hogwarts.
"You bloody idiot!"
Victoire grasped her broom and jumped after him. She suddenly pulled back, mid-lunge. "Why you rascal..."
Very much below her, a slim figure gracefully swooped down across turrets and gargoyles, evidently with the help of some levitation spell or other.
Scorpius Malfoy was skulking about quite successfully the eve of Valentine's Day.
'Where was the damn kitchen?'
He brushed aside yet another frothing pink floating heart, and fell nose to err... front, with the bushy-haired annoyance. At least this time she didn't have a black eye, nor was she sweating. Actually, she looked impeccable, the young Slytherin noticed with hidden and suppressed awe. And ready for war, from the look of her.
"Yes?"
"Don't expect a present from me." Why did he say such a stupid brainless thing was beyond him.
Remarkably, this seemed to put her back into a good mood.
"No? But I have a present for you dear."
"What!??" Anyone with half a brain knew how popular that woman was, though he had no idea why, apart from perhaps the influence of Veela charms. Perhaps. And even those without a brain knew that she was very much, very deeply involved with Theodore Lupin. She had no business handing out presents to random Slytherin first years, the eve of February 14th, even if he was a very fine exemplary of a Slytherin, thank you very much.
"Why, I figured no one else would dare approach you, so I might as well do my charitable work of the week."
Victoire hooked an arm around the spluttering boy's neck, and waved the things she had gripped tightly in her fists earlier: it was two small hair clips decorated with white and pink rhinestones. Scorpius struggled in vain as she hugged him against her, and clipped the odious objects on his head. As he was being smothered, one thought repeatedly ran through Scorpius' head. He was getting a haircut. Now.
"I hate you." He took back any positive feeling he could ever have had toward Weasleys, particularly this one.
"Poor you." Victoire was completely unfazed, and adding insult to injury, patted his head indulgently.
He encountered her again at the school owlry, the second to last day of class.
"Hey squirt. You can come over, I won't attack you this time. Promise."
"Don't call me squirt," Scorpius squinted in an attempt to look menacing.
"I'll stop calling you squirt the day you grow taller than me." Difficult feat, as Victoire shadowed most women and half of the men in the streets.
"You won't be calling me anything once you end up in Romania. Good riddance." Scorpius muttered darkly.
"How do you know?" She perked up.
"Asp said so."
"Asp?"
"Albus Severus."
"He talks? To you? I learn something new every day, it seems," Victoire taunted, grinning.
Scorpius threw a jar at her head.
Victoire caught it with the quick reflexes of a seasoned Quidditch player. She checked the tag and at once looked vastly amused. "Dragon burn cream? For me? You need to work on your romancing skills, kid."
"It would be very disappointing if you die before I can get revenge," Scorpius replied with the all the haughtiness inherited from generations of Malfoy and Chang ancestors. It did not dampen her mood any. It never had.
"Glad to know that at least somebody's happy to see me go risk my neck. Why, no insults on my blood, ancestry, gender and inability to do anything worthwhile let alone taming dragons?" Victoire's smile was crookedly mocking, her eyes were anything but.
"I'm good mannered, unlike some people," Scorpius sniffed disdainfully. "Besides, you've always done whatever you wanted to. Why start asking for my opinions now? As if you'd listen."
"Very true."
Scorpius drew back, leery, as the 7th year strode forward, but she merely put a hand on his shoulder briefly, and walked away.
"I'll watch over your family." Scorpius had no idea what demon took over him to say that. "But you'll owe me," he quickly amended, but felt that the harm was already done.
Victoire stopped, raised a hand in salute, and sauntered down the stairs without looking back. When she got sufficiently far away, she tossed her head back and laughed. She laughed until she was doubled in two and leaning against the wall. Passers-by looked at her oddly, but as usual she paid them no heed.
When Victoire's boyfriend Ted finally found her, she was in her dorm happily packing, whistling some raunchy tune or other.
[one-shot][complete]