AUTHOR'S NOTES: PLEASE READ!
Hey! I'm really sorry about the wait on this one- this chapter was reworked a couple of times, and kind of threw me through a loop.
I'm currently trying to work out where this story is going, since it wasn't supposed to evolve beyond a oneshot, and ultimately acts as a vehicle to getting to my next fic, which is already partially written. So please bare with me! Any and all feedback is appreciated greatly, so let me know if you think this fic is going in the wrong direction, or if my spelling is atrocious, or if you're enjoying it.
ALSO- I am incredible unhappy with my use of present tense. It started as an exercise to see if I could do it, but now it's continued throughout the story, I hate it. What do you think? Would it be okay if I went back and edited previous chapters into past tense, or should I just keep going?
As always, thank you so much for the comments, hits, kudos, and previous feedback! It means a lot to me!
- hyperionne x
P.S: Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed here on ! I haven't had much interaction with you guys because I'm not sure about Author's Note etiquette here, especially in comparison to the other platforms this fic is cross-posted on, which have dedicated Author's Note sections. If this is an incorrectly formatted Author's Note, please let me know in the reviews! But anyway, in case you weren't aware, my name is hyperionne and I'm an illustrator/author looking to improve through FanFiction, so please let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading 3
Scorpius manages another week before the pressure of his OWLs year hits him full force, and he abandons Al for a couple of days in favour of studying feverishly in the library. On more than one occasion, he risks punishment for disregarding the student curfew, and sneaks around the castle at odd hours like a ghoul; sometimes he just loses track of time, and it's not his fault that Madam Pince often forgets to check the more secluded areas of the library.
Despite his mounting exhaustion, Scorpius endures, and he does so quite well. He studies, and he plays Quidditch, and he takes his dinner more often than not with Al and Rose at the Gryffindor table, and then he studies more. It isn't until the second week of October that he finally hits a bump in the road, like he always expected he would.
First, McGonagall calls for a private meeting, and also invites along Professor Lee. Scorpius makes his way to the Headmistress' Office, and wills his hands not to shake. The many eyes of preceding Headmasters peer down at him as he takes his seat, silently judging him, analysing his clothes and his face and his body language.
He hasn't the fainted idea why they'd request his presence. His anxious mind unhelpfully reminds him of McLaggen, and Rose's less-than-adequate 'punishment' for assaulting a fellow student.
"Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy. Please, take a seat." Headmistress McGonagall eyes him in a similar fashion to her predecessors, staring over her glasses at him. Shoulders squared and chin high, Scorpius thinks back to the first thing his father said about Professor McGonagall back in first year: not one to mess with. Since then, Scorpius has only had a handful of encounters with the former Head of Gryffindor, all largely positive, but he fears today is the day his luck runs dry. But McGonagall shakes her head almost fondly, and Scorpius momentarily questions why his brain has started correlating tartan with an inate fear response.
She pauses for a moment, analysing him with a slight squint to her eyes, and almost imperceptibly glances to Professor Lee. "You have nothing to worry about, Mr Malfoy, I can assure you. Your teachers tell me you still have quite the nervous streak- it's been a while since I've taught you Transfiguration, after all. I was sure you'd grow out of it."
Scorpius swallows down an embarrassed splutter, and sits up straighter. "Perhaps one day." He concedes, unable to prevent himself from sneaking his own glance at Professor Lee, who looks slightly more put together than usual. "Can I ask what this is about?"
His curiosity is permitted; it's unusual for the Headmistress herself to call for an audience at two o' clock on a Thursday, and Scorpius is missing out on his valuable self-directed study period (or 'free' period, as Al and Rose call it- as if it means they don't have to do anything at all).
McGonagall nods, and looks to the open book spread out in front of her. "Again, nothing to worry about. I am simply about to present you with an offer." She says, slow and deliberate, in a way that almost exaggerates the Highlands twang to her accent. "However, until you make a decision, this information is not to leave this office. Am I clear?"
"Yes." Scorpius nods, taking a deep breath. Is she going to expel him? Did McLaggen's father complain to the school? Are they bartering with him?
McGonagall flicks through the heavily bound book before coming to a page containing a bulging envelope. Crumpled and poorly concealed, but unbroken at the seal. She slides it across the desk to Scorpius. "The male prefect for your House and year - Adam Nott - has had his badge and title rescinded due to unforeseen circumstances. Professor Lee and I would like to offer his former privileges and responsibilities to you, Scorpius Malfoy."
"You were our second choice," Professor Lee speaks up, sitting to Scorpius' left. He fiddles with the loose cravat at his neck. "The only edge Nott has over you is his disposition. We feared you would be too… conflict averse to properly guide the younger Slytherin students."
"Unfortunately, it is also Nott's disposition that lost him his badge. We hope for greater things from you." McGonagall allows herself a small, pleased smile as she offers Scorpius the letter.
Scorpius' mind goes blank. He's only somewhat aware of his slightly agape mouth. "Me?" He blinks rapidly, willing himself back into the conversation. "Are you sure? There are plenty of other options- Albus, Zachary, Connor-"
"You would recommend that we make Potter a prefect?" Professor Lee practically scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Perhaps if his brother had graduated a year earlier. The fewer Potter-Weasleys in student leadership roles, the better. The less likely we are to invite corruption into the student governing body ."
Scorpius had no idea what he meant, but didn't ask any further questions. He breaks the seal on the envelope with careful hands, and pulls out the letter. Emerald ink flattered McGonagall's looping script. Still in the envelope is the final unassigned Prefects badge.
His mother will be so proud.
Eventually, McGonagall grows tired of his stalling. He's stared at the letter for too long, looking too confused for a student with his grades. "If you'd prefer not to make a decision this instant, come back to my office on Saturday morning. We need to know by Monday, so we can alert our third choice if necessary."
Scorpius blinks at her owlishly. "Are you sure it's alright?" He pesters, too hot and clammy in his robes for the beginning of October.
"A decision by Monday is all we ask." McGonagall reiterates, and Scorpius practically bolts from the room - in a polite way, of course.
His second bump in the road: his father.
Tangentially related to both the delivery of the Prefect's badge and the incident with McLaggen is Draco Malfoy's first letter of the year. Iris, the family eagle owl, makes a racket at breakfast the following morning, and elegantly drops Scorpius' post on his head.
"Better hope she doesn't bludgeon you to death with your next parcel," Al offhandedly remarks around a mouthful of porridge.
The letter is sealed and stamped with the Malfoy coat of arms, stark and imposing in jet black wax. Draco Malfoy's penmanship is unmistakable. Scorpius can feel Al's eyes tracking over the heavyweight parchment, but doesn't stop himself from unfurling the letter.
Dear Scorpius,
I apologise for taking so long to write; business has skyrocketed at the shop, in the run up to Hallowe'en and all. I received your letter well yesterday evening, and wrote back at my earliest convenience. Hopefully Iris will be more delicate with her deliveries this year.
Your Mother and I miss you dearly, and we are so incredibly proud of you. Headmistress McGonagall wrote to us about your pending offer for Prefect. Your Mother is especially elated, and we are both over the moon! But please do whatever you feel most comfortable with, and let us know either way. I was elected Prefect when I was your age, you know. It's difficult work, I assure you, so whatever you decide we will support you fully.
We hope you've settled back in at Hogwarts. The Greengrasses will be joining us at the
Manor for Christmas this year- just so you know.
Best wishes,
- Father
P.S: A client of mine visited the shop last week and accused you of provoking his son at school, alongside that Weasley girl (you know the one). Should I be concerned?
Scorpius neatly folds the letter back into the envelope, before collapsing his head against the Slytherin table.
"Ouch," Al muses, eyes fixed on his breakfast. "That's rough, mate. Kinda funny that McLaggen barely managed a footnote, though."
"So you won't deny you were reading over my shoulder?" Scorpius mumbles into the hardwood, thoroughly embarrassed by his father's blasé approach to writing his letters.
Al laughs and almost chokes on his porridge. He throws an arm around Scorpius, leaning towards him conspiratorially. "Not at all- but Prefect! When were you gonna tell me?"
"When I've decided on an answer." Scorpius replies, miserable and overwhelmed.
On Friday evenings after class, Scorpius sticks to his gruelling study routine and squirrels himself away in the library for yet another evening of intense revision. He gathers up a stack of heavy books - all on charm theory - and dumps them on a small two-person desk tucked away by the restricted section. This is his desk. Too deep within the library's staggeringly tall shelves for most students to find, and too close to the restricted section for those that find him anyway. Scorpius drops his satchel on the floor and pulls out his favourite quill, a roll of parchment, and a battered old ink well.
He manages twenty-five minutes on the history of Orabella Nuttley, the creator of the Mending Charm, before Rose comes barrelling into his little sanctuary. "Scorpius!" She hisses, just a fraction too loud. Someone from a few rows away shushes at her, but she ignores them, leaning heavily against a bookshelf for support as she catches her breath. Her hair is messy, fluffing up in places and falling out of her ponytail, but most importantly it's a bright, emerald green.
"Dear Merlin," Scorpius drops his quill, resulting in a lovely blot at the end of his last sentence. "What happened to you?"
"Albus happened!" Rose seemingly regains her stamina and stands up straight, folding her arms across her chest in her best effort to look imposing. She still manages it, despite her short stature; it's probably her beater's arms, Scorpius supposes. She looks furious. "Colour change charmed me in the corridor for no reason! I chased after him, but lost him in the end. Thought he might be with you."
Scorpius offers her a sympathetic smile, and bites back a laugh. "Haven't seen him, I promise. If I do, I'll let you know."
Rose rolls her eyes, but pushes off against the bookshelf and joins him at his little table anyway. She pulls out her wand and lights the candle sitting on the desk. "You'll hurt your eyes, studying all night in the dark." She tells him in a matter-of-fact kind of way. Scorpius rolls his eyes in mimicry.
In the dim candlelight, he gets a chance to inspect her close up: the light splattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks are fading alongside the death of summer, vastly contrasting the face of her brother, who's still covered in them. Her eyebrows are just as thick and unruly as her hair, but they suit her roguish, sometimes boyish personality- they look darker, too, potentially influenced by Albus' most recent prank. Not that her hair looks bad, per se- it looks wrong, certainly, but not unflattering or unattractive. Scorpius bites the inside of his cheek as he realises the direction of his thoughts, and wonders absentmindedly if Albus and the rest of the Weasley-Potters would string him up for his blossoming crush.
"Green looks good on you." He says quickly, before his brain can catch up to his mouth and stop him from embarrassing himself. As soon as he realises what he's said, he freezes up. Rose goes equally rigid, and Scorpius wishes for the castle to open up a hole underneath his chair and swallow him for all of eternity. "I mean- not to say that red isn't your colour-" he backpedals, pushing away from the desk and leaning back in his chair, the picture of uncharacteristic nonchalance. "Since you're a Gryffindor and all, and a Weasley too, red kind of has to be your colour, I guess- and your normal hair suits you really well-"
To his relief, she snorts out a laugh. It's not a delicate laugh, like his own self-conscious giggle-behind-the-hand maneuver - an attempt at politeness that just embarrasses him in the end - Rose is a lot more brash, and unrestrained. Her deepening frown and sour mood are as good as forgotten, as she leans towards him with a sparkle in her eye. "Is that so?" She asks in a teasing lilt. "Maybe I should keep it this way, if you think it suits me?"
He knows she's bluffing, and whilst he doesn't hate this new hair, it isn't Rose. Her sudden proximity, leaning across his already cramped desk and into his space has his brain short-circuiting even harder. "I don't-" He starts, trying to find the right words. His face feels like it's on fire.
Rose tenses up for a second, watching him closely with an analytical eye, before she settles back into her seat with a pensive look on her face. "No harm, no foul, Mal- Scorpius ." She smiles reassuringly, carrying on as if she hadn't almost slipped back into calling him by his surname. "I appreciate the compliment."
She doesn't press it any further, and Scorpius is confused but thankful. The last thing he wanted was for Rose to treat him like some blushing damsel, unable to get his words out or handle some light flirting, if he could even call it that, but the world of girls who took a second glance at him was new and intimidating. Not all Quidditch players were meant to be heart-throbs, especially not those who were tall and lithe, disproportionately slim, and Slytherin keepers descended from Death Eaters.
He thinks he can catch the beginnings of a flush on Rose's cheeks, too, but doesn't let himself dwell on it for too long. He turns back to his textbook. "Sorry I can't help you with Al," he says, frowning. "I have to study."
"It's alright." Rose says, smiling pleasantly again as she reaches for her wand. She aims it at herself and mutters a quiet "colovaria", effectively performing a reasonably complex wand maneuver in reverse. Scorpius is impressed to say the least, watching as a gradient of auburn washes down her hair from the roots. It's a little more orange than her natural hair colour, he thinks, or perhaps that's just a trick of the candlelight, but the charm reversion is successful nonetheless. She puts down her wand and grins at him. "I could help you with charms, if you'd like?" She offers, sounding uncharacteristically unsure, as if he'd turn down her help or her company. "Since you're going to be dragging me through Potions all term."
"If you're sure," Scorpius insists, flushing red again. "I'd love your help."
A few hours later, they've both accidentally missed dinner, and end up wandering down to the kitchens with the intention of begging for scraps from the house elves on clean-up duty. It's not the most dignified of approaches, but it works, or so Rose says. "Just don't tell Hugo," she warns, rolling her stiff shoulders as they walk. "Because he'll tell mum, and she'll have a proper go at me for abusing the house elves' working hours and wasting their time. As if she never forgot to eat when she studied at school."
Scorpius doesn't feel great about it either, and feels the sudden urge to point out how the house elves are all given proper wages from Hogwarts now - they're members of staff, just like the professors and groundskeepers - but he's sure Rose is aware of that already, what, with how influential her mother was in ensuring those rights were consolidated within Wizarding law. "My lips are sealed." He insists, shrugging his satchel further up his shoulder. Before they get to the kitchens, he finds his mind drifting off to more pressing matters. "By the way, who are the Gryffindor prefects for our year?" He asks, trying and failing to sound casual. The slight strain in his voice gives him away.
Rose raises an eyebrow. Her hair is now completely back to its original shade. Scorpius can only pray she doesn't tell any of her family members about his ridiculous attempt at a compliment, which absolutely could be misconstrued as a blatant come-on. "Not sure," she admits, looking sheepish. "Maybe Arjun Joshi and Katie Fischer. Why, need to know who to look out for or something? I could ask James, he always knows who to avoid."
"No, it's nothing like that," Scorpius frowns, suddenly becoming self-conscious. "It's important. I'm not really supposed to be talking about it, to be honest."
Rose's frown deepens, but she shrugs it off. "Alright, then." She says, letting it go. "But if you have something you need to get off your chest, I won't go around gossiping about you behind your back."
When they get to the kitchens, they're lucky enough to be greeted by a particularly soft-hearted and generous house elf, Flopsy, who chastised them for skipping dinner, but whipped them up some leftovers anyway.
"Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy mustn't be neglecting their healths, or Flopsy will be forced to tell Professor Longbottom and Professor Lee," she told them, looking as cross as she could manage, with her long, bony fingers on her hips. "But it is okay just this once. Flopsy will make sure Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy eat well tonight."
"Thank you, Flopsy." Scorpius smiles a little awkwardly, and bows with his hand over his chest. "It won't happen again, we promise."
Flopsy sputters and clicks her fingers, producing a short wooden bench out of thin air, alongside cutlery and two plates of salmon, rice, vegetables, and potatoes. Scorpius plucks them both out of the air and offers one to Rose, as they sit side-by-side on the bench. Flopsy potters off to the rest of her work.
"McGonagall offered me a prefect badge." He announces, ignoring his food in favour of staring aimlessly at nothing in particular. "Adam Nott had his revoked. Not certain why. I have until Monday to make a decision."
Rose almost chokes on a mouthful of fish. "Prefect?" She echoes, staring at him hard. "That's great! You must be thrilled! ...Why don't you sound thrilled?"
Scorpius pushes his peas around with his fork, trying to properly string his thoughts together in his head. "It's not that I'm unhappy," he starts, despite looking conflicted and unhappy, "it's more like- I don't know. I don't think I'm… bold enough to be prefect. I can't tell people what to do."
"We haven't known each other for very long," Rose admits, taking bites of her meal between sentences. Unlike Albus, she finishes her food before continuing to speak, leaving Scorpius to bemusedly wonder which relative he picked that up from. "In the sense that we only started speaking recently, anyway. But I think you'd be an amazing prefect," she continues, turning to him. She puts down her knife and rests a hand on his shoulder, and Scorpius tries not to fidget and pretends like it doesn't burn right through his jumper. "Boldness isn't everything. You're kind, and you stick to the rules, and you're incredibly clever. I'm still surprised you're not in Ravenclaw, to be honest. And people look up to you."
Scorpius twists his face a bit. She sounds so genuine, but he doesn't believe that anyone could or would want to look up to him. "Thanks, Rose. I appreciate it, really."
"If you're that worried about being too reserved or anything like that, just know you won't be alone. If anyone tries to mess with you, you've got me and Al to back you up." She nudges her shoulder into his, and nods towards his food. "But really, you should eat. Maybe think about this some more tomorrow. I personally think you should take it, but do whatever makes you feel comfortable."
"Yeah, you're right." Scorpius leans back against the kitchen wall and smiles. "Don't suppose you'd tell James to go easy on me, would you? If I accepted prefect?"
She laughs, and shakes her head, preoccupied with balancing peas on her fork. "I could put in a good word, but being Slytherin's golden boy keeper and a prefect in your fifth year might make James lose his hair."
They continue eating in comfortable silence, with Rose still leaning slightly against Scorpius, and in the end Scorpius is left thinking why not? He certainly could do with thinking a little more adventurously, and throwing caution to the wind every once in a while might do him some good.
He can't remember the last time he opened up to someone as quickly as he did to Rose. Somehow, the thought doesn't make him feel anxious at all.
Come Saturday morning, Scorpius visits the Owlery to send his parents a letter:
Dear Mother and Father,
Thank you for writing so early. I hope business is going well back home. I miss you both very much, and can't wait until Christmas.
I think you'll both be pleased to know that I spoke with Headmistress McGonagall and the Slytherin Head of House, Professor Lee, this morning, specifically to accept their offer; I am now Slytherin's newest Prefect. Father, if you have any advice for me, I would love to hear it. I promise I will not allow my new duties to impact my grades.
Thank you for always being so supportive. I'm sure term will end before we both know it.
Love,
- Scorpius
P.S: Please don't worry about whatever Mr. McLaggen has said- this issue has since been resolved, and it was just a silly argument anyway. I have recently become friends with Miss Rose Granger-Weasley, since she defended me during a Quidditch brawl. (She's Albus' cousin, in case you didn't know).
P.S.S: Seriously, please don't worry- I know, Malfoys don't brawl. I didn't hurt anyone, and nobody hurt me, thanks to Rose.
After he sends Iris off with a letter tucked against her leg and a quick pat on the head, Scorpius heads over to the Quidditch pitches for training. Nestled safely within his trunk back in the Slytherin dormitories is his newly-received appointment letter and a sparkling emerald badge.