Harry Potter - Title: The Inconveniences of Being a Malfoy (2)

ðHgeocities.com/crystalangel0105//tiobam2.htmgeocities.com/crystalangel0105_/tiobam2.htm.delayedx½WÕJÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÈð1yOKtext/htmlïºLÜyÿÿÿÿb‰.HThu, 27 Sep 2007 23:03:20 GMTÅMozilla/4.5 (compatible; HTTrack 3.0x; Windows 98)en, *½WÕJy Harry Potter - Title: The Inconveniences of Being a Malfoy (2) Title: The Inconveniences of Being a Malfoy
Summary: First year at Hogwarts, Scorpius isn't getting along well, but he'll be damned if he's going to be happy that Albus Severus Potter is suddenly trying to help.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.

(2)

Mealtimes, Scorpius felt, were sacred. It was a time when he wasn’t forced to listen to the dull dronings of one teacher or another, and his housemates were too busy stuffing their faces to throw their usual threats, insults and stupid jokes that Scorpius had long since learned to ignore. There was the occasional dark glare or shifty look towards him, but otherwise it was peaceful and quiet.

In fact, wherever he sat at the Slytherin table, people managed to shift and squeeze and huddle in a way that allowed Scorpius a good amount of elbow room. It was, Scorpius felt, a nice perk to being the outcast in nearly all of Wizarding society, though he wasn’t about to say that out loud.

Of course, it would be just his luck that a certain black-haired, green-eyed Gryffindor boy would decide that he seemed lonely all on his own and invade his favourite time of the day.

“Hullo,” Albus said cheerfully, and stole some treacle off of Scorpius’ plate.

“W-what,” Scorpius stammered, then pulled himself together and demanded, “What are you doing, you fool? This is the Slytherin table.”

“It’s very nice table,” Albus commented, smiling and waving cheerfully at one of the Nott boys, who gave him a strange look and then concentrated on his mashed potatoes. Was Albus stupid, Scorpius wondered, or just stubbornly pigheaded?

Scorpius opened his mouth to try and point out that Albus was a Gryffindor, he went over there at the Gryffindor tabletable, but at that moment, a large pile of books slammed down on the table next to him, distracting him.

“I can’t believe you, Albus Severus Potter,” the Weasley girl with the plant name huffed in annoyance, as Albus winced at the use of his full name at the use of his full name. She sat down next to Scorpius with probably more force than necessary, and he hoped she, at the very least, bruised her bum a little bit for being so obnoxious. “You’re completely batty,” she declared and grabbed a roll off the middle of the table.

“But you came with me,” Albus said, almost gleefully, beaming at her.

“Go away,” Scorpius hissed at them both, “Leave me alone, I don’t want any of your misplaced, honourable Gryffindor pity-”

“Actually,” the Weasley said, sniffing contemptibly at him, “I’m a Ravenclaw. First Weasley in generations not to be in Gryffindor.”

“Oh, you must be so proud,” Scorpius said flatly.

The girl stiffened, and something about her expression reminded him of a bird ruffling its feathers in indignation. “Well,” she said, affronted, “then, I suppose I’ll just leave, you ungrateful-”

“Why should I be grateful?” he snapped at her, “With that kind of attitude, who needs you? I don’t want your pity or your contempt; if you’re going to act like you’re just so much better than me, you can just sod off!”

The girl’s ears steadily turned redder and redder as he talked, but she bit her lip and looked away, looking slightly ashamed. On his other side, Albus was staring nervously, chewing on a nail. “I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath reluctantly, “I didn’t mean to belittle you or anything.”

Oh, well, this was just grand, wasn’t it? Grandfather was going to have a cow if he not only ended up mingling with Potters but Weasleys as well. Though come to think of it, Potter was a Weasley as well, so he supposed he’d be fucked either way.

Scorpius grunted in response and dug into his already half-eaten treacle (for Merlin’s sake, there was a full plate of treacle before Albus, what a pig).).

Albus laughed nervously, sounding too loud in the almost oppressive silence.

Wait, a voice in Scorpius’ head said in surprise, silence?

He looked up and realized that everyone in the Great Hall had paused their eating and conversations to turn to look at them. Scorpius ducked his head down as far as he could, his nose almost touching his food. The Weasley girl groaned in embarrassment, and then suddenly, the air was filled with voices overlapping each other and slurping sounds again.

The strange trio sitting at the Slytherin table was silent, and Scorpius noted with ill-humour that the usual space around him seemed to have expanded. Slytherins were nearly sitting on top of each other in their quest to get as far away as possible.

“So,” Albus said, breaking the silence, “Rose, this is Scorpius. Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy, but haha, you knew that…” he trailed off uncomfortably when there was no response from either of the two people. Scorpius wondered darkly when he had ever given Albus permission to use his first name, but he didn’t bring it up. “Scorpius, this is Rose. Weasley.” He quickly added her last name, as if it were not perfectly obvious from her bright red hair or earlier comment.

“Hi,” Rose mumbled around the roll she had stuffed into her mouth.

“Whatever,” Scorpius muttered back ill-naturedly after Albus shoved his elbow into his ribs, feeling put out that the other boy felt entitled enough to inflict physical violence upon him already.

Albus smiled triumphantly at them both, and then stole some more of Scorpius’ treacle, much to his annoyance.

“Get your own!” Scorpius snarled at him. Albus simply smiled at him carelessly and ate some more. “I hate you,” Scorpius muttered, pulling his treacle away from Albus, eyeing him unhappily.

He scowled when Albus failed to look satisfactorily remorseful.

Stupid Gryffindors.

PREVIOUS
NEXT

Back to HARRY POTTER
HOME