Quidditch has the upper hand
He'd never match her speed, nor her skills.
Though he also loved Quidditch, he wasn't naïve enough to think he could compete with her one day.
This field was hers, and only hers.
He admitted it without any difficulties. It didn't hurt his pride to say she was better than him, for it was the truth.
Of course he could brag about his own skills, exaggerate them, invent some. He knew lots of girls would be more than pleased to support him. They'd praise him and spread rumours about non-existent exploits.
He sniggered. He knew most of this attention was due to his name. In spite of what had happened with Voldemort, the Malfoy family had slowly but surely seen its reputation being restored.
Draco Malfoy had taken control of the family and had chosen a better direction for the people he cared for than the previous one. This had changed his son into a more than suitable match for every mother in the wizard society. And Scorpius' appearance had won over their daughters' first protests.
However the young man wasn't interested in this kind of girls. He disliked people who were approaching him because of what he represented rather than because of who he was.
He wanted somebody honest, somebody who wouldn't hesitate to face him, to scream at him... Somebody who would match his temper.
Scorpius wanted Rose, the only girl who wouldn't do anything to please him. The reason was simple: she wasn't interested in him.
Said girl flew right above his head, running a hand through his blond hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing better than to think her move meant anything. Her sole purpose was to anger the girls around him, and to improve her flying skill at the same time.
He sighed. Actually, it was Quidditch he wasn't a match for.
'If I were a broom or a Snitch, perhaps she'd finally have some real interest in me,' he thought, defeated.