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Old July 28th, 2011, 12:56 am
iluvsnape17  Female.gif iluvsnape17 is offline
Third Year
Join Date: 23rd October 2007
Location: in the blue room
Age: 24
Posts: 359
Re: Seeing Other People

Chapter 17 - Malfoy Manor

The morning came with grey skies. They cast cold, harsh light over Scorpius' colourless but ornate bedroom. His eyes, coloured like the sky, opened reluctantly and he did not move for several minutes. It was after those few minutes that he remembered the events of the night before, and it was if a weight crashed onto his chest. Anyone else would have known she was joking, and so did Scorpius really, but there was still that niggling doubt, that insecurity.

His bedroom was vast. The walls were all purest white, as if they had been enchanted to glow as bright as a Unicorn's coat. At the foot of his four-poster bed was a great fireplace, with a prominent M carved into the mantelpiece. In contrast to Rose's home, the only family picture to be found was a large portrait hung over the fireplace.

It showed a tall man, almost handsome, perhaps, were it not for his sour expression and rather pointed face. He was pallid and thin, with white-blond hair brushed back from his rather lined face for someone who was not yet 30. His hand stroked the shoulder of a statuesque woman of notable beauty. Her silky dark hair rolled down the back of her elegant grey robes. Her eyes were clear and blue, and they stared out of the portrait with a kind of ferocity, or glanced down at the toddler on her lap with a gentle but protective gaze. It was a reserved child, not laughing or gurgling, but looking out just like his mother, the only movement being the occasional blink. The child was Scorpius, already resembling his father at such a young age with his shock of pale hair and steely grey eyes. His only noticeable inheritance from his mother were a nose and mouth that, when mixed with his father's eyes and pointed face, made him incredibly good-looking. Over the years his attractiveness had merely grown until he was the handsome young man sprawled on his luxurious bed.

In truth, were it not for the wide distaste for his family name in the Wizarding world, Scorpius Malfoy could have had anything he wanted, and indeed anyone. Had his name been anything other, perhaps the girls of all other houses spare his own would have flocked around him instead of the likes of Albus and James. That he was better looking could not be denied, and some might say he was equally pure of heart, if not more so than the loutish James, but he had a cold edge that set him apart and made him distant. The insecurity that now came with being a Malfoy, coupled with his air of hauteur, made him quite remote and in that first year at Hogwarts had led to a tentative friendship with that Ravenclaw – bright and unsure and quietly pretty – Rose Weasley.

Or perhaps it was something else that made him not as appealing as the warm Gryffindors under their scarlet banner. Perhaps it was the cold in the heart of one brought up in a big, empty house. Malfoy Manor was an awfully large place for 5 people, and the Malfoy parents had never quite had enough warmth and love to fill it. Certainly, his grandparents scarcely helped, spending most of their days sitting quietly together and scarcely exchanging a word. Draco and Astoria loved their son, true, but they didn't like his charming confidence and compassionate nature. They didn't like that he was not like them – that he had joined the rest of the world looking down on their pale, broken sort of bigotry.

'Scorpius?' said a firm voice from outside the bedroom and he dragged himself to a sitting position.


The door creaked open. Draco entered, tall and thin, with hollow cheeks, pointed, harsh features and pale as the moon. He ebony robes were neat and his light, receding hair combed back from his lined face.

'You ought to be up by now. It's nearly midday.' His voice was measured but noticeably cold.

'Give me a break. I didn't get in until 1,' retorted Scorpius, dropping back onto his bed.

'And that is no one's fault but your own.'

'It was worth it,' the boy sneered. 'I met Harry Potter - great bloke, actually, really lovely man. So were Mr and Mrs Weasley – Rose's parents, but you know that of course.' Something in Draco's face twitched uncomfortably. 'Not people you'd really want to hand over to Voldemort, y'know?'

'You'd dare talk to me like that?' There was warning in his voice but Scorpius did not take heed.

'Oh, I really would. And I didn't know you used to be a ferret!'

'Shut your mouth, boy,' he breathed. 'You know nothing about what went on then, alright? And I don't need you getting all righteous about it because of that stupid little crush of yours.'

Scorpius looked at him. Their identical grey eyes bore into each other. 'I don't care what you want. And don't you ever call her stupid. I have a lot more love and respect for Rose than I ever will for you.'

For a moment Draco looked less furious, and perhaps there was a hint of resigned disappointment in those scarcely readable eyes.

'Those Potters and Weasleys,' he spat finally, 'you think they'll ever care about you? They're too good for you, boy. They will chew you up and spit you out.' With that he slammed the door shut and Scorpius was again left sprawled on the bed. He was in silence of a moment, shaking with fury.

'LYING *******!' he screamed finally, thumping his fists against the mattress, but apparently his father did not hear. Scorpius' breath shook for a few minutes as the rage ebbed from his body and he returned to calm.

The last night's events still weighed heavily on his mind, and his father's scorn just pushed his despair to further depths. The Manor around him felt a great prison.

Forcing himself from bed, Scorpius sat down at his large white desk, laden with quill and parchment. Without a pause of thought, he quickly scribbled down these words:


I'm so sorry about what happened last night. I thought you wouldn't know what you really wanted in that state and felt I was taking advantage – plus, your dad would have murdered me if he came back. But seriously, we should talk about everything. It feels like we need to.

Then he paused in his writing and put his head in his hands. For several minutes he remained there in silence, feeling thoroughly dreadful. When he raised his eyes, he took the parchment into his hands and tore it in two. He stopped again, stroking his jawline with the end of the quill, then wrote again, but more slowly:

Dear Lily,

I hope you enjoyed last night. I did.

I'm really worried about stuff with Rose and didn't know who else to talk to. You were a great help at school so I thought you might have an idea what to do.

He went on to explain the events of the previous day, before signing off:

Please reply ASAP. Thanks so much,


He stared at the note for a few minutes before deciding it would do. It was true that at school Lily had indeed helped. She had comforted him when Rose had inexplicably cut him off, and since then their friendship seemed to have blossomed to the point where she was a ready consultant on all things female.

He did like Lily, though he often noted that she lacked the depth and intelligence of Rose. Yes, Lily could look very pretty on a broomstick, but he couldn't imagine being able to spend hours discussing the more interesting aspects of potion-making or Arithmancy as he did with Rose. And she may be incredibly thoughtful whilst retaining cheer and joy, but the never-ending joy occasionally grated on Scorpius just as it did on Rose. How on earth could individuals as lonely and bewildered as themselves find harmony with someone as brazen and complete as Lily? So while she may have lacked the significance of Rose, to Scorpius Lily was a sharp and dependable friend, ready with careless wit and well-intentioned advice whenever it was needed.

Scorpius took the note and gave it to Cronus, his ageing barn owl. The bird's eyes looked up at Scorpius with what looked like annoyance, before it spread its wings and swooped from his bedroom window.


'You're too old to be so shy'

~Rose and Scorpius' story about love~
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