Unicorns and Eagles: What a Lovely Tapestry!

Author Note: Ahem. Adela says to review or she'll bring ol' Bessie out c; Btw – YOU GUYS ARE FREAKING AWESOME. Thanks for the 1000+ reads!

Disclaimer: Only OCs belong to me

"Ahem," I coughed quietly, hoping to attract Scorpius's attention.

MERLIN WAS HIS HAND UNDER HER SHIRT?

GAH MY EYES. I AM TOO INNOCENT FOR THIS.

Oh, stop laughing.

"AHEM." Great. Now I sound like Umbridge.

.Snog. ARGH.

"SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY!" I bellowed. Honestly, the boy is practically deaf.

Scorpius jumped a bit, his hand quickly slipping from underneath the blond bi-bitterweed's (rather short) white shirt as his eyes flicked to me quickly before moving on to Rose. His silver eyes widened considerably as he took in Rose's tear-stained cheeks. I shot a quick glance at Rose; her cheeks matched her crimson hair and her brown eyes were narrowed into dangerously thin slits.

Wow, I did not want to be Scorpius at this moment. Well, I never want to be him. But more so than ever right now.

Looks like someone inherited her mother's temper (seriously. Hermione Granger-Weasley was a highly-respected wizarding lawyer infamous for her ability to make grown men cry during trial).

"Ro-Weasley?" Scorpius asked disbelievingly, catching himself before he said her first name.

I glanced back over at Rose; she was positively quivering with rage and had somehow whipped out her mahogany wand in the time (3.2 seconds) since I had last looked at her. Although her body was shaking a bit, her mouth was set and her hand never strayed a centimeter.

Merlin, Scorpius was in trouble.

"You," she began in a chillingly calm voice. "Are a prat."

Scorpius opened his mouth, probably to make up some excuse.

Wait. Why would he even need an excuse? Not like he knew Rose fancied him…or…had something happened? Numberita jumped around gleefully at the prospect; hehehe. I AM SO SMART IT'S SCARY.

"AVIS OPPUGNO!"

And with that, her wrist flicked to the left before twirling a bit, her wand emitting angry red sparks. The sparks seemed to explode midair, transforming into a flock of bright yellow canaries. The canaries gathered in a tight circle before zooming at Scorpius, their tiny orange beaks shining menacingly.

I felt a brief breeze as Rose brushed past me, her violently red curls flouncing primly as she shoved past the blond bitterweed (who was looking quite uncomfortable as she watched the boy she'd been snogging be attacked by magical birds) and strode out the door without a backward glance.

The blonde girl picked herself up from the ground, frowning as she brushed off the cobwebs (which reminds me – really, Scorpius? A classroom filled with cobwebs really just yells out "romantic snogging area" – really classy, there) from her robes.

She shot a lingering glance at Scorpius (who was by then trying to swipe at the birds but utterly failing) before flipping her hair over her shoulder and leaving.

"See you later, Scorpy," she called out in an annoyingly high voice.

Scorpy? Merlin. She'd ruined an already horrible name with an atrocious nickname that somehow managed to be worse than that…"name" Draco Malfoy had burdened his sole son with (sorry, Scorpius. You know it's true).

I sat back down, watching with detached interest as Scorpius began banging his head against the wall (what he hoped to accomplish with that, Merlin only knew).

After 73 seconds of watching his pitiful display, I rolled my eyes and took out my wand, muttering a quick counter spell. Honestly, the Slytherins these days. Didn't they even bother reading the charms textbook anymore? That spell was in last night's homework for Merlin's sake!

The flock of birds had gathered about 2.1 feet above Scorpius and was in the process of dive-bombing him when the silver sparks emitted from my wand caught up to them, causing them to vanish with a quiet puff of translucent smoke.

"Took you long enough," Scorpius rasped hoarsely after 5.7 seconds of pitiful hiding (he'd flung his head under his robes, looking eerily like a misshapen bat). His white-blonde hair was mussed and several cuts dotted his face.

I narrowed my eyes, thinking longingly of ol' Bessie. Ungrateful prat. Noticing my anger, Scorpius hurriedly added, "But thank you, O Brilliant One!"

Feeling placated, I nodded curtly before striding forward and giving Scorpius a swift kick to the knee. He bellowed, dropping to the ground dramatically and clutching at his leg. Honestly. He's just lucky I didn't aim higher.

"You are an idiot," I said, watching as he rolled around the floor. His expression immediately sobered and he hopped to his feet lightly (ha! I knew he wasn't really injured!).

"I know," he said quietly, sighing heavily and gazing out the window.

I blinked; whoa. Scorpius really fancied her; this was the first time I've ever heard him admit that he was wrong.

"If you fancy her so much, why don't you just ask her out?" I asked.

He froze, his eyes widening until they resembled silver pools.

"I can't do that!" he yelled, his voice cracking (cough blackmail material cough).

"And why not?"

"Because…because…what if she doesn't fancy me back?"

Didn't Hogwarts have some sort of IQ test before letting idiots like these into the school? I could feel my intelligence draining away just being near the bloke! Honestly.

"She does, you idiot. Why do you think she hexed you when she saw you snogging that bitterweed?"

"Because she hates m-wait. Bitterweed?"
"Mum. Christmas. Coal. Bad."

"Oh."

See, this is why I tolerate Scorpius. I've known him so long that I don't even need to say full sentences around him; he'll just understand the gist because he's been around so long. Like an irritating vampire-pest that you just can't get rid of (trust me; I've tried everything from ol' Bessie to baby mandrakes).

"And she doesn't hate you; she was in here sobbing over you for Merlin's sake!" I shouted, feeling more than a little exasperated.

"She was sobbing over me?" Scorpius asked, sounding a bit too happy for my liking. Bugger; I'd just inflated his already-large ego.

Merlin help me. The prat would probably be flouncing around for the next week or so referring to himself as "His Royal Malfoy" or something like that (he did that in third year; he brought in two of his groupies to bow down to him and open doors for him because Scorpius is chivalrous like that. And yes. Minds were scarred and eyes were gouged out).

"Prat."

"Sod off."

"Git."

"Sod off."

"You said that already."

"So?"
"YOU FANCY ROSE WEASLEY. YOU FANCY ROSE WEASLEY. YOU FANCY ROSE WEASLEY."

"SHUT UP."

"SHOULD I GO OWL DRACO NOW, SCORPY? TELL YOUR DEAR FATHER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE RON WEASLEY'S DAUGHT-"

"SOD OFF. YOU WOULDN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND LOVE; NO ONE'S EVER LOVED YOU."

I blinked, inexplicable tears welling up in my eyes.

Scorpius paused, his cheeks paling considerably as he realized what he'd said.

"A-Adela…" he said softly, reaching forward as if to touch me.

Snap.

I paused, my chest heaving as I stared at my hand. It had moved of its own accord to slap Scorpius; his cheek was now a bright red and he brought up a trembling hand to cup it.

"Stay away from me, Malfoy," I spat out before bending down swiftly to scoop up my bag. I turned, the bag bumping against my side as I walked out of the classroom, each step echoing in the empty classroom.

As I rounded the corner, more tears blurred my vision until I finally gave up and slumped to the ground. Bringing my knees to my chin, I hugged my legs as I cried.

It wasn't like me to be so affected by Scorpius, but…

It was true. Mum only tolerated me because she needed a daughter to dress up. Father wouldn't even speak to me; he'd already made it perfectly clear that I wasn't going to get a cent of inheritance…all because I wasn't in the "family house." I'd never even been kissed before. Merlin, no boy had ever even looked at me twice.

And I'd been fine with that – really. But…somehow, Scorpius's words had hit my only weak spot. And he knew it; the boy that had known me my entire life had crossed that line of no return.

AND I'D LOST MY QUILLS. I let out a loud wail before resuming my pathetic sobbing.

"Lancaster?"

Bugger. Of course someone would just happen to walk this way (no one ever walked this way!) today of all days.

"What?" I snapped, lifting my head and glaring at the offender.

Potter's wide green eyes stared back as he took in my appearance. I was really not in the mood for his ridicule; I swear to Merlin if he mentions my tears I will hex the oblivion out of him. HE WILL DIE A PAINFUL AND LONG DEATH.

I've heard Azkaban isn't that bad anyway.

"-okay?" came Potter's voice.

Huh? I blinked, asking, "What?"

His eyes flicked upwards like he was about to roll his eyes but had stopped himself.

"Are you okay?"

Um.

"What? No insult this time, Potter?" I asked, laughing with just a tad bit of hysteria mixed in. "Do I bloody look okay?"

"Erm…no, not really."

Prat. Didn't he know that when a girl asks you that, you're supposed to lie and start showering her with chocolate of some sort? He had a baby sister, for Merlin's sake! He should know these th-

Right. Adela=sobbing. Potter=asking a question. Adela=should stop referring to herself in the third person.

"I'm fine," I said curtly, looking away. Right. This is the point where he'll get the message and leave me alone.

The refreshing scent of pine trees and fresh snow wafted towards me, instantly clearing up both my nose and Numberita.

"Right, I'm not leaving," Potter announced from a distance that was alarmingly small (around 5.9 inches if I gauged it correctly – HAHAHA WHO AM I KIDDING? OF COURSE I GAUGED IT CORRECTLY I'M A BLOODY RAVENCLAW FOR MERLIN'S SAKE).

I glanced over surreptitiously; gah! Potter had seated himself next to me and was now smugly observing me watch him.

I flushed, looking quickly away. Prat.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

"Why are you doing this?" I snapped. And I meant it; Potter never showed even the slightest bit of interest in my feelings.

"You helped me through that love potion," he said simply. I looked sharply at him; the last time I'd spoken to him, he'd practically spat at me about "not needing my pity." He gazed at the tapestry across the corridor quietly, his dark hair brushing the wallpaper behind him.

Silence.

Somehow, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence – you know, the type where you want to tear your hair out and shout random things so it won't be as awkwardly quiet (thus causing the other person to think you're mental. I'd received quite a few St. Mungo's brochures because of my inability to keep quiet in those situations).

"Scorpius said something," I said finally, looking steadfastly at the tapestry. Huh. Hogwarts really did need to update its artwork. A mutated unicorn was embroidered in a battle stance, an engorged eagle slashing at its back. I wonder what the founders were thinking when they decorated this place. Did they look at the (literally) bloody unicorn and think, hm, this looks like perfect viewing material for impressionable eleven year olds!

Honestly.

AND WHY HADN'T POTTER RESPONDED YET?

I shot another quick glance at him; his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked to be deep in thought (oh, careful there Potter – don't damage your little Slytherin brain trying to think so har-right. He was trying to help. Be nice, Adela! Merlin maybe I should have kept those brochures…).

"What did he say?"

I tensed, my hands gripping the soft material of my robes.

"Stuff about how no one loved me," I said suddenly before clapping my hand over my mouth; Merlin, I'm an idiot! Why had I told Potter that, of all people? He was probably going to go spread it all over Hogwarts now.

"Lancaster, I-"

I really didn't want to hear his snide reply; he'd probably say something how only Sir Archibald liked me, and how that was more of a "liking the person who feeds you so you won't die" kind of affection. So I kept talking, spewing out my secrets to the person I least wanted to hear them.

"And I've lost my quills. Father gave me the first five before I was Sorted into Ravenclaw. I've collected quills since I was eight and-"

"I know."

I paused; he did? Right. I'd forgotten that I'd known him since First Year...it was odd; I'd never really thought of him as someone who could understand my references nearly as well as Seth and Scorp-Malfoy did.

Silence. Again.

Wait! Herbology! I fumbled for my watch, my fingers trembling as I read the silver hands.

I was 22 minutes late.

"OHMYGOODNESS I'M LATE FOR HERBOLOGY! PROFESSOR LONGBOTTOM IS GOING TO KILL ME AND/OR FEED ME TO THE MANDRAKES!" I bellowed, furiously swiping away the last remnants of tears from my face. I scrambled to my feet, muttering a quick "thanks" in Potter's general direction.

xxxxx

Of course I had Herbology with Hufflepuffs.

DEAR WORLD: WHY DO YOU HATE ME?

After bursting into the greenhouse and breathing very heavily (thank goodness Wood was a year above me; he couldn't see just how out of shape I was…yet. I still had practice…I shudder to think of what he'll do), Professor Longbottom had sighed wearily before assigning me detention on Thursday. I'd set my books down on the only space available – a spot underneath the front window. A spot that sat me right next to a bloody Hufflepuff.

The Hufflepuff had smiled at me before moving her books (see? WHAT KIND OF PERSON MOVES HER BOOKS FOR SOME RANDOM GIRL SHE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW? IT'S NOT NATURAL I TELL YOU. NO ONE IS THAT NICE) to the side to create a sizeable area for my things.

"Thanks," I said shortly, shoving my bag unceremoniously onto the dark green surface.

She beamed, dimples (dimples!) appearing on her dark cheeks. Her intricately braided hair framed her oval-shaped face and her teeth shone blindingly white against her dark complexion.

Too cheerful, I tell you. It's unnatural.

"I'm Kate. What's your name?" whats-her-face asked. Oh, sod off. I know she just told me her name; it's not my fault that Numberita has more important things to remember (like the fact that there were precisely 22 braids in her hair and Professor Longbottom had rubbed at that spot on his chin 8 times in the past 6 minutes).

"Adela," I said shortly, fidgeting with the brightly coloured plant set on each desk.

"Erm, Adela, I don't think you should be…"

The plant hissed and spat a neon-purple liquid (of remarkably high viscosity) at my arm. The liquid steamed slightly as my skin began turning an angry red colour. I stared down at my arm, the terrified shrieks of my classmates blurring out. Huh. It had affected around 13 square centimeters of my forearm…wait. Acid + skin = HOLY SHITAKE MUSHROOMS THAT'S PAINFUL.

OH BLOODY HELL.

Sorry, mum.

"HOLY - - -!"

AN: This chapter just did not want to be written -.- Anyway, as always – reviewing leads to more updates! ;D