I can't believe I wrote a Malfoy...
Title: Chocolate and Conversation
Who: Scorpius Malfoy and OC, with mentions of Mallory Carmichael
Why: Another third person rpg sample and reposted for the hell of it.
Disclaimer: JKR's world and characters, not mine.
* ~ * ~ *
"Are you Draco Malfoy's son?"
Scorpius looked up from what he was reading, which this evening was a Quidditch magazine cover charmed over a copy of Transfiguration Today. Sure enough, a first year was standing a few yards from where he was seated, a sceptical expression on his freckled face. "No," he responded politely enough, then paused deliberately. "I'm his daughter."
"Ha ha ha." The first year wrinkled his nose. "It's obvious to anyone that you're not that. Well, are you or aren't you?"
"I am," Scorpius said neutrally, putting down his magazine as it didn't seem that the first year would leave him alone anytime soon. At least this one didn't seem phased by his surroundings or who he was talking to, which would make for a more interesting conversation. He settled deeper into his armchair. "And you are?"
"Quentin Maugrim." Quentin Maugrim held out a hand. Scorpius shook it, but not before surreptiously checking to see if the younger year had a buzzer hidden there or some other insane Muggle practical joke. "I say," Quentin added, glancing around disparagingly at the common room surroundings, "how you lot manage without a television here, I don't know."
"Well, I suppose you're going to find out," Scorpius said drily, hiding a smile at what his father would think if he knew that yet another potential Muggleborn had invaded the once vaunted pureblood stronghold. But since while wary of Muggles themselves, he didn't have anything in particular against their magical offspring and lowered his guard slightly more around the younger students than what he did his immediate peers, he felt at ease to pursue the subject. "Are both your parents Muggles, or is one magical?"
"My mother's a Muggle but my father is a wizard," Quentin replied. "He was in Ravenclaw. On their house team. Got his NEWTs in 1994..." Another plus with asking questions was that aside from making yourself appear friendly and interested in other people, it also got them talking about themselves and therefore not about you. A prompt here and a careful question there, and the Maugrim kid was prattling on about his family for a good few minutes. It was only when a fifth year entered from the girls' dormitories that he seemed to remember Scorpius. "Hey, how come you don't play Quidditch?" A slight sneer. "Did you try out but then Flowers dropped you?"
"No, I just prefer to watch it, that's all." Scorpius didn't rise to the provocation, as the child obviously wanted him to do and he didn't see the point in obliging him. "Are you going to next year?"
"Yeah. Father reckons I'll make a good Beater." If the kid's build and temperament were anything to go by, Father was right. Plus he appeared to be quicker on the uptake than the Beaters during his father's time, who Draco often bemoaned. He spoke less disparagingly of Crabbe, if at all, Scorpius having gleaned that he had somehow perished during the Battle of Hogwarts all those years ago. He noticed that his new acquiantance was holding a rumplied tie at his side. "Say, you don't know how to do one of these up, do you?"
"Probably not how you're used to. I use a spell to do up ties. If you can't be bothered of course, the trick is to loosen it just enough to get it off over your head at night but not undo it completely, and then to tighten it again the next day. If you put it over your shoulders though, I can do it up for you right now." He gave the tie another look. "It looks like it needs an ironing charm as well."
"Nah, it's after dinner so I can't be bothered." Quentin shrugged. "Besides, ironing charms are for pansies."
"Maybe, but there are prefects like Kirke in Ravenclaw who will take points off for that sort of thing," Scorpius said neutrally. "And if you want to make good with the older years, it's best not to get a name for yourself as someone who gets points docked needlessly off Slytherin for things like that. Finch-Fletchley and Flowers are really out to win the House Cup this year, and I don't think you'd want to get on the bad side of them or any of the other seventh years."
Quentin considered, then handed the tie to Scorpius, who performed the charm on it and passed it back. "Thanks," he said with a brisk nod. "Rowe- er, Salazar, I'm still hungry after dinner. If only you could get seconds around this place. Say, you don't have any chocolate, do you?"
"It depends." Scorpius gave him a smile and, since the kid seemed like a bit of a hard case, decided to humour him. "What do you have for me in exchange for this chocolate that I might or might not have?"
"Oh, I don't know." As he expected, Quentin was playing along - and playing hard to get. "I remember something Carmichael was saying about what he was going to do to you tonight earlier, but I'm hungry and I tend to forget things when I'm hungry. Some chocolate may jog my memory."
"Lucky that I have some then." Reaching into his pocket, he broke the slab in two and gave one half to the first year. "You'll get the rest after I hear this news." It was a win-win situation really, even if it cost him some chocolate. If the kid was telling the truth, he'd be able to evade Mal, and if he was lying, well, then Scorpius would learn that he was not to be trusted.
So it was that when one Mallory Carmichael went to bed that evening, he found that the Muggle snake sweet, which he had charmed so that it was enlarged and wriggled and bit, had been transfered from under Scorpius's pillow to the foot of his own bed. The next morning, he had to limp to the infirmary before breakfast. Scorpius naturally feigned innocence.
Who: Scorpius Malfoy and OC, with mentions of Mallory Carmichael
Why: Another third person rpg sample and reposted for the hell of it.
Disclaimer: JKR's world and characters, not mine.
* ~ * ~ *
"Are you Draco Malfoy's son?"
Scorpius looked up from what he was reading, which this evening was a Quidditch magazine cover charmed over a copy of Transfiguration Today. Sure enough, a first year was standing a few yards from where he was seated, a sceptical expression on his freckled face. "No," he responded politely enough, then paused deliberately. "I'm his daughter."
"Ha ha ha." The first year wrinkled his nose. "It's obvious to anyone that you're not that. Well, are you or aren't you?"
"I am," Scorpius said neutrally, putting down his magazine as it didn't seem that the first year would leave him alone anytime soon. At least this one didn't seem phased by his surroundings or who he was talking to, which would make for a more interesting conversation. He settled deeper into his armchair. "And you are?"
"Quentin Maugrim." Quentin Maugrim held out a hand. Scorpius shook it, but not before surreptiously checking to see if the younger year had a buzzer hidden there or some other insane Muggle practical joke. "I say," Quentin added, glancing around disparagingly at the common room surroundings, "how you lot manage without a television here, I don't know."
"Well, I suppose you're going to find out," Scorpius said drily, hiding a smile at what his father would think if he knew that yet another potential Muggleborn had invaded the once vaunted pureblood stronghold. But since while wary of Muggles themselves, he didn't have anything in particular against their magical offspring and lowered his guard slightly more around the younger students than what he did his immediate peers, he felt at ease to pursue the subject. "Are both your parents Muggles, or is one magical?"
"My mother's a Muggle but my father is a wizard," Quentin replied. "He was in Ravenclaw. On their house team. Got his NEWTs in 1994..." Another plus with asking questions was that aside from making yourself appear friendly and interested in other people, it also got them talking about themselves and therefore not about you. A prompt here and a careful question there, and the Maugrim kid was prattling on about his family for a good few minutes. It was only when a fifth year entered from the girls' dormitories that he seemed to remember Scorpius. "Hey, how come you don't play Quidditch?" A slight sneer. "Did you try out but then Flowers dropped you?"
"No, I just prefer to watch it, that's all." Scorpius didn't rise to the provocation, as the child obviously wanted him to do and he didn't see the point in obliging him. "Are you going to next year?"
"Yeah. Father reckons I'll make a good Beater." If the kid's build and temperament were anything to go by, Father was right. Plus he appeared to be quicker on the uptake than the Beaters during his father's time, who Draco often bemoaned. He spoke less disparagingly of Crabbe, if at all, Scorpius having gleaned that he had somehow perished during the Battle of Hogwarts all those years ago. He noticed that his new acquiantance was holding a rumplied tie at his side. "Say, you don't know how to do one of these up, do you?"
"Probably not how you're used to. I use a spell to do up ties. If you can't be bothered of course, the trick is to loosen it just enough to get it off over your head at night but not undo it completely, and then to tighten it again the next day. If you put it over your shoulders though, I can do it up for you right now." He gave the tie another look. "It looks like it needs an ironing charm as well."
"Nah, it's after dinner so I can't be bothered." Quentin shrugged. "Besides, ironing charms are for pansies."
"Maybe, but there are prefects like Kirke in Ravenclaw who will take points off for that sort of thing," Scorpius said neutrally. "And if you want to make good with the older years, it's best not to get a name for yourself as someone who gets points docked needlessly off Slytherin for things like that. Finch-Fletchley and Flowers are really out to win the House Cup this year, and I don't think you'd want to get on the bad side of them or any of the other seventh years."
Quentin considered, then handed the tie to Scorpius, who performed the charm on it and passed it back. "Thanks," he said with a brisk nod. "Rowe- er, Salazar, I'm still hungry after dinner. If only you could get seconds around this place. Say, you don't have any chocolate, do you?"
"It depends." Scorpius gave him a smile and, since the kid seemed like a bit of a hard case, decided to humour him. "What do you have for me in exchange for this chocolate that I might or might not have?"
"Oh, I don't know." As he expected, Quentin was playing along - and playing hard to get. "I remember something Carmichael was saying about what he was going to do to you tonight earlier, but I'm hungry and I tend to forget things when I'm hungry. Some chocolate may jog my memory."
"Lucky that I have some then." Reaching into his pocket, he broke the slab in two and gave one half to the first year. "You'll get the rest after I hear this news." It was a win-win situation really, even if it cost him some chocolate. If the kid was telling the truth, he'd be able to evade Mal, and if he was lying, well, then Scorpius would learn that he was not to be trusted.
So it was that when one Mallory Carmichael went to bed that evening, he found that the Muggle snake sweet, which he had charmed so that it was enlarged and wriggled and bit, had been transfered from under Scorpius's pillow to the foot of his own bed. The next morning, he had to limp to the infirmary before breakfast. Scorpius naturally feigned innocence.