On the first day of my Seventh Year, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I'd gotten the position Head Boy. I'd forgotten about the letter- buried beneath school supplies and old notes I caught up on over the summer- and when my mother had hugged me on the platform, wishing me "Good luck with the students," and telling me that I'd "make an superb Head Boy," I'd freaked. In a good way. I was on the train in 2 seconds flat, barrelling down the halls in a way that was quite irresponsible for a person of my position, throwing the door of my designated compartment as Head Boy open. There sat Al and Rosie. Both Al and Rosie were prefects, Al from Gryffindor, while Rosie and I from Ravenclaw. We still sat together in the Great Hall, as promoting House Unity was one of Hogwarts' main focuses these days, as compared to my father's time, most of which he'd relayed to me in my first year. He'd said that a lot of people would judge me before they knew me, because of my last name. For that, he'd said, he was sorry. I hadn't had too much of a problem. Nothing I couldn't deal with myself. Sure, when I'd been sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin, the hall had gone silent, but Rosie and Al, whom I'd met on the train earlier that day, had started an applause that eventually echoed throughout the hall. Afterwards, there had been various cases of name-calling and tripping, but I remained on my best behavior, and by Second Year, everybody and their mother knew that I was not whom they had thought I would be. I was a Malfoy, yes, bequeathed with white-blonde locks, pale skin, and a cold sneer, but I was also just Scorpius, the boy who always got O's and was nice to everyone who was nice to me. Sure, I was a little conceited and arrogant sometimes, but a lot of my fellow Ravenclaws were. It was just a House-given right. What's not to be proud of, coming from the smartest house in the school? Regardless, my dad was pleased that I hadn't been burned at the stake or lynched for being his son. Now, in Seventh Year, I was friends with almost everybody. The teachers adored me, the prefects looked up to me- I was a shoo-in for Head Boy. Merlin's Beard, I'm not sure why I was even surprised. I should have expected it, being as great as I am. But you can ignore all my rambling- you can read it in a biography one day, or perhaps an autobiography...no, that would be too conceited, wouldn't it? It's better for others to praise me than for me to praise myself, isn't it? Regardless, my greatness brings me where I am now. In the Head's Compartment.
"Scor," Al adjusts his glasses on his face, a trait I had always found disfavorable. I didn't have 20/20 vision, but glasses told others that you had a flaw. Contacts were better to me- the muggles are quite genius. "What's on the Scorpius Malfoy show this time?" He's referring to the fact that I just blanked out as I thought of the above things. In Second Year he had once asked what I thought about when I went away to that "different world of mine," and I'd told him what I had been thinking. He'd immediately laughed, calling it the Scorpius Malfoy Show. I was better than that Michael J. Fox muggle, so I wasn't quite sure why the title of my show was reminiscent of his. Mine should be original. Better than is just as I was better than him. It was another thing I didn't like about Al. But every leading actor needed a supporting actor, and Al was that for me.
"Starring roles and supporting actors," I told him carelessly, "I'm the star, obviously, and you're my supporting actor."
"And what am I?" Rosie asked, brushing her wild mess of curls away from her freckled face. 2 of her many, many flaws. Rosie was more flawed than Al. Her hair was always messy and untameable, like fire and her face was dotted with clusters of concentrated melanin, ephelides that bore a remarkable semblance to constellations.
"You can be my love interest," I quirked a grin, leaning toward her. She flattened her back against the seat, a blush spreading into her cheeks. Yet another flaw. Rosie blushed way too often and for way too long. It was high time she looked into medical help- I'd read somewhere that both were early signs of Rosacea, or perhaps Idiopathic Craniofacial Erythema. Plus, it was always a good idea to be in control of your own emotions. Blushing was a sign of weakness. But regardless of her flaws, Rosie had liked me since Third Year. She could obviously see my brilliance, and I didn't want that to go away. There needed to be multiple biographies. There was only so many "fangirls" as Al called them that followed me around the school, and half of them can't spell their own name right, nevermind write a whole book. Rosie was smart- she could write 15 books in the time it took of of my fangirls to write a single sentence. And that was why I needed Rosie to continue crushing on me, perhaps even fall in love with me, so that she could produce a biography of yours truly, written word of praise to forever adorn the shelves. Rosie was also very close to the Librarian at Hogwarts, and I'm sure she could talk her into getting the book in the library for students in later generations to know of my brilliance.
"You're doing it again," Al reminded me.
"Right," I responded, "Rosie, once you write that biography, be sure to talk to the Librarian to have it stocked at Hogwarts. I think 5 copies should be enough, right?"
Rosie rolled her eyes, laughing at my newest amendment to my Biography scheme, "You are by far, the most conceited person I know."
"Sometimes I don't know if you're joking or not mate," Al grinned, "So, why'd you rush in here so crazily?"
"Oh, right," I grinned, "I'm Head Boy."
"Congrats, mate!" Al said, clapping me on the back, "Where's the pin?"
"In my bag somewhere, McGonagall should have made them a bit larger, they'd be harder to lose track of." I say easily.
"You're Head Boy?" Rosie's face looks gaunt. She looks even less attractive than usual like this, as it makes her freckles stand out and her hair seem even redder against her pale skin.
"Yes," I say, "What's the problem?"
"I'm Head Girl." She says, and it's quite the surprise for me. I didn't think Rosie would have gotten the position. But McGonagall had the tendency to ignore flaws. And I suppose having unmanageable hair and a rubbish complexion did not make up the qualifications of being Head Girl. As I'd said before, Rosie was smart, and she was quite responsible as well. No more than me, no, of course not- much less, but still; responsible.
"Congratulations Rosie," I smirk, "Looking forward to rooming with you." She ducked her head down, blushing that horrible red of hers. Frankly, it made her look like a tomato. An ugly, overripe tomato. But I suppose her smarts and head-on-her-shoulders attitude made up for it. Rosie was good study buddy material, not good girlfriend material.
"You may set the password to anything you please," McGonagall informed us crisply, "I trust you two will keep it school-appropriate."
"We will," Rosie assured the Headmistress with a smile. Once McGonagall had gone, she turned to me, "What do you want it to be?" Aw, she was so sweet- letting me choose?
"I don't know," I grinned, leaning closer to Rosie, "What do you?" I needed that biography.
"Change," Rosie whispered, looking up at me, "Change." Change? I could have done better.
"A great password dear!" The harpist depicted in the painting said as the door swung closed behind us, the password accepted and set. There was silence for a moment.
"Well then," I said cheerily, "We best get settled in."
"Right." Rosie said, glancing at the ground as she rushed off to her private dormitory, "I-I'll go now."
My room was decorated in bronze and blue hues, the colors of Ravenclaw scattered about the place. I plucked my wand from my back pocket, using it to enlarge a few necessities from my bags- the muggles invented this object called a mini-fridge, and paired with that, I had found a spell that lets electricity run on a renewable magic power source. I'd shrunken it into the size of my hand and stored it in my bag, complete with the insides intact, stocked with chilled Butterbeer up the whazoo. Genius, I know. There was also a few of my posters from my bedroom of various muggle bands. I was fond of the Beatles, Pink Floyd, and Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. A radio was enlarged to sit beside my bed, and I'd also brought my laptop. Like I'd mentioned before, muggles were genius. And wizards had spells for everything as well, from electricity to wifi to cell towers. Once I was set, I made my way back into the common room. Rosie was reading a book by the fire. "Rosie dear," I remarked, "Meetings in 10."
She almost fell off the sofa in surprise, "Oh, give me a minute Scor, I'd nearly forgotten!" She placed her book on the coffee table and pulled her hair into a still-messy ponytail before turning to me once more, smiling sheepishly, "Sorry Scor." Yet another flaw. Rosie had the tendency to be late or forget things. It was a wonder she'd even become Head Girl with a flaw like that, but McGonagall must have realized that I would keep her on track.
The meeting between the heads and prefects was rather short. I liked to get straight to the point, no chitter-chatter or wayward conversations. It was a flaw I fortunately lacked, unlike many of my peers. Granted, it did take over an hour and a half, but I covered everything that previous Heads had covered in 3 hours. By the time the meeting was over, darkness had fallen on the grounds. Rose had gone up ahead of me while I had lagged behind to talk to Al before heading back to the Head's common room myself. I'd explored a majority of the common room, but had yet to explore the bathroom. I knocked on the door, and upon hearing nothing on the other side, entered.
It was a vast room, with windows charmed that we could see out and no one could see in. Despite this however, the silvery glow of the moonlight was cast over the white tiles. Once it reached the smooth, constant ripples of the water, the perfect image was tainted and skewed as the moon shone down. The walls were a calming white, like soft snow instead of unpainted walls. The tub was large, almost like a pool, and there were several steps falling down below into the crystal clear water. Everything was silent. On the far side of the pool was an indistinguishable shape cocooned in a white bath towel, red locks falling over terrycloth. Ivory toes tentatively touched the water, the source of the ripples in the previously still water. A long, smooth leg confidently stepped into the water, a second following it. The white terrycloth was dropped to the tile floor, and her wild, frizzy mane settled on her ivory skin. Like a swan, she glided into the water, the silvery moonlight casting a glow over her. Her red locks seemed prettier, her star-like freckles more beautiful, her odd complexion more fair than it ever was, and of any girl I had ever seen. Her curves, before hidden behind ignorant innocence, were stuck in my vision, the epitome of an ideal woman. She sank into the water abruptly, causing waves to lap water over the edge of the pool, and the spun, churning the water in a whirlpool around her. She was chaos, she was havoc, she was perfect. And she was Rose Weasley.
"Oh," She said, upon noticing me. A blush lit up her face like the fire she embraced in all aspects of her life.
"I'm sorry." I said, unsure of what I was saying, and backing up to the door, "I'm sorry." I grasped the doorknob and yanked it open, rushing back to my room, not quite fully aware yet that my life had turned upside down.