Scorpius looked up at the poster on his wall, stroking the neck of his guitar with an almost religious fervor. Of course, he didn't really admire Sonic the Guitarist that much. But he sort of did.
Scorpius wanted to be a musician when he grew up, and he had been looking to set up a band ever since he turned 12. Well, he wasn't great at making friends, and the people in his "circle" at Hogwarts weren't exactly the musical type, but he was determined to get a band started as soon as he could. Then, he'd be famous. And then things would really get good.
He would walk onto the stage, swaggering and smoothing his slick hair back with a smirk. He would blow a kiss to the crowd and all the girls would scream (they always seemed to dig the lead singer, especially if he had some sort of piercing). And, oh, of course, he would have a lip ring. And tattoos. And, it wasn't all about the girls, right? He was going to create art. He would be a phenomenon.
He played a guitar riff, head banging the whole time. He looked up at the poster and caressed it lovingly and pressed his cheek up against it. Closing his eyes, he sighed and imagined the money and following he could make if he were just in a band. If only he were in a band. The only person who was taking musical studies with him that he felt even remotely would fit in his band was Rose Weasley, since she played keyboard fairly well (surprisingly), but he wasn't about to just ask her.
"Scorpius!" A familiar, grating voice broke him from his thoughts and fantasies.
"What?" he called back down the stairs, irritated.
"It's time for dinner! You haven't set the table!"
Scorpius grumbled. Why on earth did his mother think he needed to set the table when they had house elves? Something about humility, being a disciplined human being, et cetera...
