Wow. When I asked for some suggestions, some of you went to a lot of trouble. A LOT of trouble. Of course, I read them all, and took everything on board, the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Unfortunately, owing to the fact that some of the requests or suggestions contradicted each other, I can't incorporate them all. However, those of you who are concerned about the thickness of my skin; never fear! It's all going towards making me a better writer, which in turn makes this a better story. It's like that thing in the Lion King about the lions nurturing the grass and the circle of life... always seemed like a very unbalanced deal, lots of wildebeest dying compared to very few lions. Anyway. Please continue to give your opinions, as long as they are opinions. I'm hoping I haven't just opened myself up for a torrent of abuse...
Rose sniffed slightly, as it became apparent that her unwelcome partner was well in need of not only some fresh clothes, but a long shower as well. He lagged behind her brisk pace as she passed out into the Entrance Hall, and began to climb the steps.
It was only when she was halfway up the steps that she realised that Scorpius had begun to descend on the other staircase, heading in the opposite direction, towards the dungeons.
"Malfoy, what can you possibly be doing at this time of night, on our first day back that is that important?" she demanded, "surely your slimy friends can await you presence just one more day?"
She saw that he was looking at her with a puzzled expression on his face, and she sniffed once more.
"You're Head Boy for goodness sake," she said, anger now palpable, "you can't be roaming the corridors doing whatever you feel like."
"I was just going to bed," Scorpius replied, looking unsure as to what he'd done to garner the response he had.
"Well then why are you heading towards the dungeons then? The Head's Dormitory is on the fourth floor!"
"Head's Dormitory?" Scorpius repeated, as if he hadn't heard of the place before, something Rose thought was preposterous.
"Yes, the Head's Dormitory, Malfoy, don't you know anything about your job?" said Rose, who turned tail and continued to march up the stairs at a ferocious pace.
Dimly, she was aware of the soft squelching noise as Scorpius followed her up the staircase.
When she reached the portrait of the three blind witches on the fourth floor, she stopped, and turned to address them as her repugnant male equivalent stood uncomfortably behind her, his hands buried in his pockets.
"Pig Snout!" she said clearly, and the three women stopped chattering silently long enough to swing open and reveal their new quarters.
Scorpius' mouth fell open in awe as he followed the ever-brisk Rose Weasley into their recently acquired accommodation. The room was elegantly furnished, with a fireplace surrounded by three plush couches, the roaring fire warming the room comfortably. There were paintings on the walls, desks by each of the windows, and two separate doors, one to the left and the other to the right.
To Scorpius' eye, the interior was warm and inviting, and suddenly the problems that being Head Boy posed seemed insignificant compared to what was on offer here. This would be his sanctuary, his solace, and he couldn't help smiling broadly despite everything that had occurred that day.
"What are you smirking about Malfoy?"
Rose Weasley was standing in the doorway of the room to the right, looking at him peculiarly, and Scorpius realised he must have looked like a fool, so he dropped his head again. When no answer was forthcoming, Rose continued as if nothing had happened.
"Well, my trunk is here, so I'm guessing this is my bedroom. Do try not to be late for breakfast tomorrow, Malfoy, I at least value my position and don't want you undermining it by being tardy constantly. I know Malfoy's are used to everything waiting for their arrival, but don't expect anything like that from me," she said, and with that, she stepped into her room, and closed the door.
Scorpius followed suite, and stepped into his new bedroom, closing the door behind him. The sight before him made him almost giddy with happiness. His bed was generously large four-poster, and instead of coarse, uncomfortable bedding that was provided for him at Malfoy Manor, and he ran his fingers softly along the silk sheets that he would now sleep between.
His trunk was at the foot of his bed, and he shed his wet clothing onto the floor at the sight of his very own bathroom, and rushed at the opportunity to cleanse himself.
For Rose, the process of unpacking was laborious. She actually had two trunks, one inside the other, and although her second trunk was much smaller, it did in fact contain considerably more than her standard trunk that her parents had given her in her first year at Hogwarts.
Her second trunk was a gift from her mother, as talented a witch as any in the world, who'd presented her with a small trunk that was barely large enough to contain a pair of shoes by outwards appearances, but was actually bewitched with an undetectable extension charm that gave it an almost unlimited capacity.
While her mother had used the charm to transport the tools that had been needed to help defeat Voldemort, Rose used it to carry her extraordinary collection of clothing.
When she had finally finished unpacking, she set about ordering her school things, putting her textbooks onto the small bookshelf, placing her quills and parchment rolls onto the table. She also removed some personal belongings, such as the photo of the entire Potter-Weasley clan from the previous Christmas, and some pieces of jewellery that were both family heirlooms and gifts from other sources.
With her cupboard full to the gunnels, and her room now looking more like her bedroom in her parent's house in Godric's Hollow, she lay back on her bedspread and considered what had passed in that day.
In all honesty, she hadn't been surprised when her delightful cousin Albus hadn't been selected as Head Boy. He'd been so different before he'd come to Hogwarts, the very embodiment of humility and honesty. Rose knew that his older brother's influence had driven him to what he had become, essentially a bully who surrounded himself with sycophantic followers.
If only his father could see what his youngest son had morphed into, she knew Uncle Harry would set him straight.
Despite all this though, Albus was family, and she wasn't going to go against family no matter what. Albus might have lorded it over his fellow students, but for the most part it was fairly harmless posturing, however unattractive a quality it may have been.
Her mind shifted to the boy who had taken the place Albus considered to be rightfully his, and she couldn't help the anger that rose in her chest. He was a Malfoy, was there any other way?
She knew that the home he had come from had, in years gone by, housed the very worst of wizards and witches, had been the very place where her mother had been tortured, and her father and uncle locked up.
Where unspeakable cruelties had been committed, and yet, still the Malfoy's existed in wealth and comfort.
She hated the Malfoy's for never having had justice served for the wrongs they committed, and seeing their only child given a position of privilege made it all the worse.
The arrogance, the unrepentant self-importance that her father had taught her all Malfoy's possessed naturally meant that she was predestined to hate their very name, no matter what.
With this comforting thought, she drifted off to sleep, eagerly awaiting the first day of school in her last year at Hogwarts.
Scorpius awoke with a shout, in the midst of writhing in his sweat sodden sheets. He slowly unclenched the white-knuckled grip his had taken upon his pillow, and sat up slowly. His body glistened with perspiration that only his nightmares brought. He ran a nervous hand through his slick hair as he peeled back his sheets, and slipped onto the carpeted floor.
The darkness outside told him it was early, but he had no desire to go back to sleep. Not with what awaited him when he closed his eyes. His one blessing was that he no longer shared a dormitory with four other boys, where they would regularly berate and mock him for his troubled sleep.
For Scorpius though, nightmares were much better than the reality of his father's study in Malfoy Manor.
He shivered slightly, as the warmth of the bedding deserted him, and he set about preparing himself for the day to come. He washed and cleaned himself thoroughly, and dressed himself in the uniform that hadn't been drenched the evening before.
Unfortunately for Scorpius, his collection of robes ran to only a single set he had inherited from his father. Scorpius was now a good couple of inches taller than Draco Malfoy had been, and the robes stopped short of the top of his battered, muddy shoes, not that it mattered much given that the hem of his black and green robes was still damp.
The only clothing that Scorpius owned, he had inherited from his father, and all of it was school uniform. When he wasn't at school, he got by with wearing one of his two school shirts or two pairs of black school pants, apart from on special occasions which called for a spare set of his father's dress robes.
His school shirts were uncomfortable, and so he left the top button undone as he slowly tied his father's green and silver Slytherin tie. Slipping on his damp cloak reluctantly, he did his best to depart for an early breakfast without ruining his only remaining clean set of school clothes.
Rose awoke as the dawn broke, as she did every morning. Rising quickly, she dressed herself, relishing the feeling of being in her uniform once more.
She slipped into her skirt from the year previous, despite the fact that her mother had bought her a completely new set of school clothes for that year. Hermione and Rose didn't see eye to eye on the issue of hem lines, and Rose had been forced to smuggle shorter skirts in.
When she was ready to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast, she slipped out of her bedroom, into the Head's Dormitory common room. The door to Scorpius' room was closed, and Rose grimaced.
Of course he showed no signs of rising at a respectable hour, and doing anything like greeting the new first years.
Of course a Malfoy couldn't be expected to uphold the honour of such a prestigious position.
She wasn't about to have a slacking, inappropriate partner bringing her down, however, and she marched across the room and rapped firmly on the door.
Gaining no response after half a minute, she repeated her assault on his door, only this time slightly firmer. When after a minute she found herself still ignored, she banged on the door with her palm and shouted loudly the occupant's name.
When even her cries of "Malfoy!" went unheard or ignored, she resolved that this travesty would not go unnoticed. She tried the handle and found the door to be unlocked, so she stormed in, ready to rouse Scorpius from his slumber.
To her immense surprise, and retrospective embarrassment, the room was apparently empty. The bed was made, but a quick search of his bathroom brought nothing but guilt for the invasion of privacy she had committed.
She departed his room quickly, closing the door behind her, before muttering to herself about Head Boy's with no consideration for rules, wandering the halls in the early hours of the morning. She set off for breakfast without a second thought.
"Mr. Malfoy, why are you wearing that cloak?"
Scorpius was sitting at the Slytherin table, the only person in the Great Hall, or so he'd thought. It was just the way he liked it, just him, the delectable cooking of the schools house elves and a book from the library.
He turned to find Professor McGonagall staring at the muddy hem of his cloak with some surprise.
"It's cold, Professor," he replied uncertainly.
"No, Malfoy, why are you wearing that cloak in particular? It's filthy!"
Scorpius Malfoy knew his parents would never allow him in their house again if they found out he'd told the truth, so he lied as he had always done.
"I forgot to pack any spares," he answered quietly, and Professor McGonagall shook her head.
"That is very careless, Mr. Malfoy, I expect better of my Head Boy. Well, go to the lost property cupboard and pick out whatever you need until your mother mails you the ones you are missing. Most of that stuff has been in that cupboard for years. I can only imagine Astoria's reaction to such news."
Scorpius could too, but he knew his mental picture was probably slightly different to the headmistresses at the thought of inconveniencing his mother or father with such a request. The thought made him swallow tightly.
"How are your mother and father, Malfoy? I haven't seen them for probably six or seven years now," Professor McGonagall said, sounding more kindly.
"Same as ever, Professor," Scorpius replied, not meeting her eyes.
"I'm sorry to hear that," muttered the Headmistress, as she wandered away, and Scorpius smiled to himself. Professor McGonagall had always been the one teacher who'd never judged him by his surname, and even after his grandparents had been arrested, she'd remained civil to him.
I always liked Professor McGonagall, and who's going to believe that she'd have an irrational hatred? No one, of course not. She was like Dumbledore-lite in tartan. Also, some people are concerned that much of the hatred for Scorpius, particularly Rose's, is completely baseless. I do have a justification in mind, but it's only ever going to be partial. The theme is supposed to be prejudice, it's like reverse blood-prejudice against pure-bloods, by nature it doesn't make sense. Much like racism...