There was one problem with being a Malfoy—you were just about as famous as you would be if you were either a Potter or a Wealsey. Okay, I lied. Ha, Scorpius Malfoy admitting that he lied? Whatever. Malfoys have changed since then, after all. But anyway, there's more than one problem. As soon as any wizard or witch hear the name "Malfoy", they would instantly think "a pure-blood, Voldemort-loving blond"—it was as if Malfoy is a defined term in a wizard dictionary—"who despise Potters and Weasleys." Well, unfortunately (or fortunately, if you didn't care about those problems and if you loved the fame), I am such a Malfoy, and naturally, so are my parents.
"Scorpius," said Father, pulling me into a very awkward one-arm hug. We were currently at Platform 9-3/4; I was about to start my first year at Hogwarts. I was not exactly excited about going off to school, and I missed my luxurious bedroom already. I was certainly going to miss the House-elf service, too. There were House-elves at Hogwarts, but there wasn't one that would be specifically assigned to me. Why couldn't students bring House-elves in lieu of a pet, anyway? If only Screech (my owl) could bring me whatever I needed, and not just letters...
I wasn't nervous at all, knowing that I would be Sorted into Slytherin without a doubt.
"Don't get into trouble at Hogwarts, understand?" Father went on, breaking me out of my thoughts, "We need to start behaving like normal wizards."
"Aren't we normal wizards already?" I asked, ceasing my eyebrows in confusion. "It's not like we're Mudbloods or anything."
Father glanced at me disapprovingly. "Lucius has been telling you too many stories," he grumbled, "and now he's given me another reason to hate his visits. Don't say that word, ever, Scorpius. I forbid it. We're lucky enough not to have been imprisoned after Voldemort's defeat…"
Now that he had gone, no one really cared if they addressed him as Voldemort and not You-Know-Who anymore. Well, Potter hadn't cared even when Voldemort had been alive, apparently. I had learned all about the Second Wizarding War from my father, who, of course, had first-hand experience. Every time he spoke of how Potter had saved his life, I could tell how hurt he was. Not physical pain. Mental. Father being saved by his archenemy had wounded his pride, and I had figured that out even if Father would never admit it himself.
"Come, Draco," Mother said, pulling me into a full hug. "Now isn't the time for lectures. Scorpius is about to leave for Hogwarts, and you're telling him about the war? Perhaps you can talk to Lucius later about it. Later." She accentuated on the last word, staring intently at Father. Father shook his head with a sigh, giving in. Father never won an argument if Mother was around, and for that, I admit, I was grateful.
Father hesitated before gesturing towards where a ginormous group of redheads gathered. "See them, Scorpius? They're the Weasleys, if you didn't know already. But considering how smart you are, I'm sure you do know. Well, I suggest you avoid them."
"Oh, Draco," Mother scolded, slapping Father lightly on his arm, and clearly not pleased.
"I suppose avoiding them would be a little too much. But that girl over there—her name's Rose Weasley, isn't it?—make sure to beat her on every test, Scorp. And don't get too friendly with her, understand?" Father instructed me. I smirked at his last order of not getting too friendly with her. It wasn't as if I was going to befriend a Weasley.
I couldn't help asking, "Why her, Father? There's plenty of other Weasleys, and I can certainly do a lot better on tests than them."
"Her mother is Hermione Weasley née Granger, Scorpius. She's the cleverest witch in our year." He didn't sound happy at the thought that she was the cleverest. "So naturally, her daughter will be smart, too, you know. Look at her. Already in her Hogwarts robes. Like mother, like daughter." He sneered in their direction, and nodded curtly as his eyes met those of one of the Weasley's.
Mother grumbled, "Don't have them turn against each other before school even begins, Draco!" She kissed me on my forehead, and, with a huff, she turned and stalked away, calling over her shoulder, "I'll leave you two to your man-to-man talk, then. Send us an owl after your Sorting, Scorpius. See you at Christmas. Do try to avoid Peeves at all costs, and don't get into trouble, as your father said earlier." I watched her leave, neither of us trying to stop her.
The Hogwarts Express whistle blew over the chatter of parents and students.
"Well, remember to write us whenever possible, Scorp, and...I don't think saying 'Good luck' is appropriate, is it?" Father mused, squeezing my shoulder as he helped me lift my trunk and Screech's cage onto the train.
I boarded the train and half-heartedly waved at Father. "Later, Father," I said, then turned my back to him as I headed down the aisle in search of an empty compartment. It was better that I was alone (I wasn't in the mood for conversations) and the other students clearly agreed, as they all avoided me, some even shooting me dark looks as I passed. I finally found the perfect empty compartment.
Unfortunately, my alone time was short-lived.
As I sat staring absently out of the window, the compartment door opened to reveal two students, one in front of the other. First years, by the looks of it. And, sadly, I knew who they were.
The redhead girl noticed me, and burst out, "Do you have a problem with the window?"
Was that how people greeted each other nowadays? Asking if they had problems with windows? I snorted, thinking how Father must be wrong after all. She didn't act as smart as her mother did. I, not bothering to reply, ignored her.
"Or do you have a problem with yourself?" The dark-haired boy, Potter's son, put in, his head appearing behind Weasley's. It almost looked as if she sprouted another head. "You do seem to be scowling at yourself, Malfoy."
He clearly wasn't smart, either. There was obviously a difference between scowling at a reflection of yourself and scowling at yourself, and I was doing neither, thank you very much. I was simply concentrating on ignoring them.
Redhead Weasley sat down across from me. She let out a cough; clearing her throat. "Er, sorry about what I said earlier," she mumbled, "We can start over. I'm—"
The last thing I wanted was to listen to her whiny know-it-all voice. "You're Rose Weasley. And he's Albus Potter. I've been warned to stay away from you," I interjected calmly.
Potter sat down next to her, much to my annoyance. They were not about to leave any time soon. "We've been warned to stay away from you too, Scorpius Malfoy," he said obnoxiously, "but unfortunately, there's nowhere else to sit, so do excuse us."
"What about your gigantic family?" I suggested, wanting to be rid of their presence as soon as possible. "There's plenty of room with them. Or—" A thought suddenly struck me, "—are you unwanted because there's simply too many?"
"Shut up, Malfoy," Weasley snapped rudely, "There's nothing wrong with my family. Mind your own business and leave us alone."
"I was minding my own business until you two came along," I pointed out dryly, glowering at her. She didn't flinch.
She growled, "This train doesn't belong to you. Don't act like you own the bloody thing. There's a reason why it's called The Hogwarts Express and not The Malfoy Express. You do seem to have a lot of money, though. Maybe if you actually bought it it'll be named after you."
Potter began laughing like a maniac. "Rose, that was excellent!"
Eventually, Weasley gave up and pulled out Hogwarts, A History and began reading. At least it was now silent. Potter began playing Wizard Chess with himself, which was rather strange indeed. I was now surrounded by a narcissist and a know-it-all. My first day was going just great.
It seemed as if time was passing painfully slow. Then, a long time later, the trolly witch came by, pushing her cart of sweets. "Anything off the cart, dears?"
I wasn't hungry, and besides, I was waiting for the feast-prepared-by-House-elves after the Sorting.
Potter, on the other hand, jumped up eagerly at the thought of food. As he did so, he caused his chess pieces to scatter off the board. Weasley held her book up like a shield, saving her head from being struck by the king (Father had once told me about a song he had composed, "Weasley is our King", and the king almost hitting her head reminded me of that). I wasn't as lucky, and one chess piece hit me right on the head. I had a feeling Potter did it purposely as he cheerfully bought some of everything from the cart.
"Chocolate Frog, Rosie?" Potter asked Weasley, holding one out to her.
"Why not?" She responded, unwrapping the frog. I heard her gasp. "Draco Malfoy," she read the name from the card aloud. I hadn't expected that Father had his own Chocolate Frog card, especially since he had been a Death Eater during the war. "One of the first and few wizards to change sides during the Second Wizarding War. An accomplished man in his own rights, he later worked at the Ministry as a Magical Law Enforcer."
I didn't comment. To my surprise, she tossed me a Frog, which I caught using my practiced Quidditch Seeker skills.
"Have one, Malfoy," she offered me, and I half-smirked at her in return.
"Are you going mental?" Potter muttered to her sharply.
Weasley ignored him, and instead said to me, "Who knows? Maybe you'll get my dad's card or something."
I unwrapped the Frog to find Nicolas Flamel's face staring back at me. "Nicolas Flamel," I told her shortly. I gave her the card—I already had a few of Flamel—and she handed me Father's card. Father simply gazed blankly at me.
We didn't speak to each other again, but somehow this small exchange caused me to wonder whether not being friends with her was a good idea.
She's a Weasley, I told myself, and you're a Malfoy. Being friends with her (or any other Weasley for the matter) is the last thing you should even think of.
A/n: First chapter of I'm In Love With a Weasley! Hopefully it sounds boy-ish enough. Anyway, I decided to post this earlier than expected, but there will not be as many updates due to the fact that I'm still finishing Malfoy.
Review? :)