First Night Failures || para
Scorpius laughed and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, but too late; heads turned to look at him and he hunched down quickly as though he could somehow hide that way -- as though his white-blonde hair wasnāt nearly as distinctive and singular as his pointed features, as if there were enough Slytherins who shared his cut and color that anyone would mistake him for one of them if they could only see the top of his head. He cursed himself mightily under his breath, barely hearing the rest of Professor Flitwickās speech. As if Professor Longbottom didnāt hate him enough already! Why had he laughed when Flitwick said the greenhouses were infested with pests?
All right, the thought of any misfortune befalling the Herbology teacher was a good thought as far as Scorpius was concerned, and well deserved, but he didnāt need to go around telling people that. And he knew Professor Longbottom had recognized who had laughed, even if no one else had...and Scorpius rather suspected that the Head of Gryffindor House hadnāt been the only one to turn his way with a glare when that delighted peal of laughter had left his lips, even if Longbottom had been the only one whoād met his eyes before he ducked his head.
Well itās not like he can hate you more than he already does, Scorpius told himself, cold comfort though that was. Although he can certainly make you pay for laughing next time you have class with him. The fact that it would be a theory class, which meant the variety of punishments that Longbottom could dole-out were limited (no painful plants that liked to bite, or embarrassing chores that would leave him filthy) was comforting a little, but it did little to cheer Scorpius up. First day back and he was already crossing people, already drawing attention and ire. Wonderful start to the year.
Scorpius did his best to shove the gloomy thoughts away and concentrate on the feast; at least Professor Longbottom wasnāt a favorite among most of his fellow Slytherins, since his bias against their house was so well known, so none of the students sitting near him scolded him for laughing -- although a few sent smirks his way, knowing that heād be made to pay for it soon enough. Scorpius ignored them and concentrated on talking to Albus and picking his way through the food on his plate. By the time the feast was over he had almost managed to put it out of his mind and was yawning happily on his way out the door. He paused to fix a wrinkle in his black uniform robes, letting the tide of students wash past him; it wasnāt like he needed a guide to his common room, although heād best not let his housemates get too far ahead of him because he didnāt know the password to the dungeons yet.
Suddenly another pair of ankles twisted around his own and the next thing he knew heād gone down sideways on the hard stone floor. Scorpius lurched to a sitting position and looked up with a furious glare for the culprit. His hands curled into fists to stop himself going for his wand. He didnāt doubt for even a second that whoever had knocked him over had done it on purpose and part of Scorpius was lamenting the fact that heād let himself get separated from Albus while the other part was glad of it; the last thing he wanted was to start the school year with a detention and Albus wasnāt always as good at holding his temper as Scorpius was. (He had less need to, and less practice doing so.) A quick impromptu duel in the middle of the entrance hall was the last thing he needed to get embroiled in, especially with Professor Longbottom sure to be even more on the warpath than usual already, and the odds that Albus would jump to his defense and draw a wand were higher than the odds that Scorpius would do so on his own behalf.
Reminding himself that he didnāt want trouble, he settled for snapping, āWatch where youāre going you bloody oaf!ā
