Sorry about the late update, I'm trying to juggle stories, and this one got left behind. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and as always, please read and review!
Scorpius sank back into the red, plush seat in his compartment, his book resting in the space beside him. The compartments were more reminiscent of an early nineteen hundreds smoking lounge, all dark woods and rich colours, than a train interior. To complete the image, the billowing smoke from the Hogwarts Express blanketed the milling crowd of eager children and wistful parents outside his compartment window.
The train was filling slowly, and as always, the older students embarked first, their parents the best drilled at relinquishing their grasp. This was in contrast to the parent's of the First Years who regularly acted as if they would prefer to part with multiple limbs as opposed to bid farewell to the offspring who were off to have the time of their lives.
A case in point was the woman who was directly beneath Scorpius' window, who appeared to be surgically attached to her clearly embarrassed son, while simultaneously shedding enough tears to declare the formation of a new ocean and issuing throttled screams of anguish that Scorpius envisaged would not have sounded out of place emanating from the lips of a banshee.
Scorpius knew he may have been just a tad bitter about the whole 'fawning and doting' parents concept, but he shrugged this insecurity off. He was supposed to be happy today, the first day of the new school year was his Christmas, and he deserved to enjoy it after his horrendous summer. Outside, the woman either lost her voice, or some charitable individual had slit her throat, but either way, it allowed Scorpius to continue his customary train-ride check that he knew each of his textbooks off by heart.
The improved nature of Scorpius' school life had undeniably coincided with a momentous occasion that had occurred the year before last; the graduation of James Sirius Potter, eldest son of Harry James Potter, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
While the embargo on anyone doing anything remotely friendly for, let alone actually befriending Scorpius continued to be enforced by Albus, who had stepped into the void of king of the school and all-round sadistic jerk, and James' friends from the year below had continued their leader's 'legacy' of unwarranted torture and humiliation in his absence, Sixth Year had been such a marked improvement on Fifth Year, it was almost beyond belief. But it had been in Fifth Year that the consideration of actually murdering James Potter had crossed Scorpius' mind as a viable alternative.
Scorpius sat in his compartment as the train continued to fill with Hogwarts students, as the platform became more sparsely populated, and only the few, mainly first years, remained, eventually being tearfully allowed to board as the conductor shouted his final boarding call.
Scorpius' carriage remained mercifully empty, as the parade of faces passed by the window that led into the train's central corridor, students who boarded last looking for empty carriages for the duration of the journey.
No senior student was anywhere near desperate enough to take up residence in the compartment that Scorpius was residing in, and no junior student was brave enough to barge in on a senior, no matter how maligned said senior might be. It was a healthy equilibrium that Scorpius could have no complaints about. He still had nightmares about what James Potter and his gang had done to him on the train ride in Fourth Year.
Scorpius sat quietly, flicking casually through the pages of his transfiguration textbook, with his right hand in his pocket, unconsciously playing with the badge that he had slipped into it before loading his trunk onto the train an hour or so beforehand.
The letter was also there, and he pulled it out to peruse it once more, as he had already done countless times before. He had spent hours poring over it, his eyes searching for any sign that it might be a forgery. When his natural abilities failed him, he, with the resources available, set about magically testing its legitimacy, but he could find no fault.
Even McGonagall's signature was perfect, when he compared it to the letter welcoming him to his final year. Even more damning evidence was that it had arrived in the same envelope as the rest of his Hogwarts Seventh Year information, so if it had been a practical joke, the perpetrators would have had to have intercepted the owl and replaced it with their own. He'd tested the seal magically, but unless he was sorely mistaken, it had remained unbroken, and the envelope had not been tampered with.
The problem was, in Scorpius' head, it just didn't make sense. At all. How could it be explained by any reasonable individual? Scorpius had not been made a prefect in Fifth Year, despite his clear academic achievement. Nor had this been rectified in Sixth Year, when he had received 'Outstanding' on every single one of his OWLs.
He had a perfect behaviour record, and his teacher's struggled to find a single bad thing to say about him even despite his surname. In fact, the only criticism ever levelled at him was that he distracted other students, but as this always entailed a Potter or one of their gang having attempted to commit some horrific act against Scorpius, none of them ever really believed that he was anything other than a model student. Not that they'd ever admit it.
He sighed and returned both the badge and letter to his pocket, his mind virtually humming with activity. There had to be a reasonable solution to this dilemma of his. After a minutes consideration, he resolved that he would, with the premise of attempting to find the trolley and all the goodies it carried, he would make a trip up the train to the front carriage and take a quick peek into the prefects meeting to see if there was someone else with a badge.
He put his book up on the luggage rack, and silently made it invisible. He didn't want to have to explain to Madam Pince why he couldn't return the books she'd lent him, he needed the textbooks she was letting him have on year-long loan.
He slid the compartment door open, and stepped out into the corridor, the train rocking slightly from side to side as it thundered onwards towards Hogsmeade Station. He wandered down between the compartments, his head bowed to avoid being noticed. He walked quickly, until he came within the vicinity of the front compartment.
Gingerly, he tried to peer through the nearest window, a bead of sweat finding its way onto his forehead. He could see people sitting in the compartment, but he couldn't see the entire group without making his presence known.
"What the fuck are you doing, Malfoy?" came an all too familiar voice.
Scorpius' heart dropped. Of course he was the one who busted him.
"I'm waiting for the food trolley?" Scorpius replied lamely, without turning around, silently begging every deity he could think of to let that excuse be enough for the boy.
He heard footsteps, and then a hand on his should wrenched him around, and pinned him to the window, as he stared into the face of Albus Potter.
"That can't be true, Malfoy, I know you don't have any money, I tried stealing it from you enough times, haven't I?" he scoffed, as his straggle of friends fanned out around them. "So what the fuck were you doing?"
Albus Potter was not an imposing boy, not even to First Years. Well, objectively he was not imposing. He stood a generous 5'8, had messy black hair, and wore glasses. Not exactly your stereotypical thug, but his looks belied his actions.
He had grown up with his brother, and the influence wasn't exactly hard to spot. He, for some reason, loved picking on Scorpius, but never did anything unless he had half a dozen of his friends and family to stand behind him in case Scorpius ever tried to fight back.
"Answer the question, Malfoy! What are you doing spying on the prefects meeting?" Albus demanded, shaking Scorpius by the front of his shirt, but still he stayed silent, his blue eyes staring straight back into Albus' green ones.
Students had begun to congregate in the corridor, as Albus threw Scorpius to the floor, and whipped out his wand. Scorpius lay there, on the ground, face down, his nose an inch from the carpeted corridor floor, as he waited for the inevitable curse. It didn't come, however.
"What the fuck?" exclaimed Albus, and Scorpius looked up. Albus was standing there comically, his hand raised, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.
"What is so important that you have to interrupt my first prefects meeting, dear cousin Albus?" came an authoritative female voice from behind a still shocked Albus.
Albus turned to reveal a furious looking Rose Weasley, Albus' wand firmly grasped in one hand.
"You better have a good excuse, or else I'm going to be sorely tempted to hex you into the middle of next week," she exclaimed, as everyone present shrunk down slightly.
Rose Weasley may have inherited her father's shock of red hair, but along with her mother's brains, she also inherited the persuasive personality that had seen her mother land the position of head of a ministry division. Coupled with an appearance that made the entire male population of Hogwarts weak at the knees, she was truly a force to be reckoned with.
"What is that?" she asked suddenly, pointing past Albus, to Scorpius, who blinked twice in surprise. Rose Weasley had never acknowledged his existence before, what was going on?
"Accio badge!" she said commandingly, and too late Scorpius realised his Head Boy badge had fallen out of his pocket.
"That's mine!" exclaimed Scorpius, making a desperate grab for the badge as it flew towards Rose's outstretched hand.
"What do you mean it's yours?" shouted Albus, "who did you steal this off, you absolute piece of scum!"
Albus had grabbed his wand off his shocked cousin, and shouted a curse which opened up a deep cut in Scorpius' cheek, which began to ooze blood onto the already red carpet.
"I didn't steal it," Scorpius panted, holding his wound, as blood seeped from between his fingers. "I've got the letter to prove it," he said, holding out the piece of parchment.
Rose grabbed it without even glancing at him, and read it quickly.
"He's forged it, clearly," said Albus derisively, but Rose shook her head, as she cast some spells on it.
"No, as amazing as it sounds, this letter is real, as far as I can tell," Rose breathed, glancing down at Scorpius with a look of incredulity on her face.
"That's absolute bullshit!" screamed Albus, pulling Scorpius to his feet, who was still clutching his bleeding cheek. "You're a lying, cheating piece of scum who isn't worthy to lick the dirt off my shoes, why the hell are you Head Boy? It's got to be a mistake; McGonagall hasn't gone completely batty as far as I know." He punctuated this by punching Scorpius on his other cheek and letting him fall back to the train floor, as there were some cheers from the onlookers.
"Well, this letter seems real, cousin, I think you may just be bitter about the fact that you weren't picked. Although, even having you as Head Boy would be better than spending a year with a Malfoy," she sneered, as Albus spat on Scorpius' prone body.
"Thanks Rosie," Albus derided, not looking away from Scorpius.
"However, I don't think anything can be done about it right here on the train, Al, I think we are just going to have to act like he is really Head Boy until we get to school, and you can talk to McGonagall. Come on Malfoy, you're late for the prefect meeting," she announced to Scorpius, as she stalked back into the compartment.
As Scorpius slowly got to his feet, Albus pulled him by the collar, and whispered in his ear.
"You and I are not done, Malfoy, not by any means. This isn't over, either, I'm going to make you pay for this," he breathed in Scorpius' ear, before pushing him against the wall, and leading his friends away through the assembled crowd.
I hope nobody likes the Potter clan too much. Or the Weasley's for that matter. Or Draco Malfoy. Really, if you like the protagonists in JK Rowling's books, you might have a problem with this story. But what the hey, I mean, I'm annoying everyone equally right?