If there was something Slytherins were good at, it was gambling. Many a night was spent making small – and not so small - wagers on anything from the weather to the results of the next Quidditch match. It was rather silly really, the amount of interest that was placed on such activities but there was only so much time a student could spend with his housemates before slowly going mad with boredom.
Scorpius figured it hadn’t always been this way. His father, for instance, was terrible at cards. Oh, Draco Malfoy had a poker face, but when it came to taking risks, he tended to toe the line. Still, he was determined to improve and if this resulted in a larger allowance, Scorpius wasn’t going to point out his father’s one major weakness.
The unfortunate bit was that while Scorpius was good, Albus Severus Potter was better. The youngest son of the Chosen One didn’t look like a major player but Al had a certain knack for numbers – or maybe he was just bloody lucky. Nobody was really sure how but the chances were, if you had a bet against Malfoy’s best friend, you were going to lose.
On hindsight, Scorpius should have probably asked Al where he’d gotten so damn good. Instead he now knew there was a special place in hell reserved for one George Weasley – an arse who’d found it dreadfully amusing to tutor the Weasley and Potter children on the…finer points of life.
The pecking order was thus: Scorpius had the most favors in Slytherin – after Al. And following a Quidditch game earlier that day, the whole of Slytherin discovered that the one person who could outsmart Al was his older brother.
If only the brothers had done their usual thing- James would make a wisecrack, Al would get all bothered and Scorpius would be there to stop him from getting his nose broken. The last time, James had seemed a bit off his game. He’d watched Scorpius grab Al by the waist and haul him back and Scorpius could have sworn the older Potter’s eyes had been focused on his hands clutching at Al’s shirt.
Then came the wager – your typical Quidditch bet, really; Slytherin against Ravenclaw in the next game - Al would need to score more goals than Patty Greengrass. The loser would owe a favor.
Al had seemed oddly hesitant and Scorpius had quickly accepted in his stead. He should have focused on the way James’ eyes gleamed. Yet Al had assured him later that it wasn’t an issue – he was the best flyer out on the field.
How the older Potter had discovered Al’s infatuation with the newest Ravenclaw Chaser, Scorpius had no idea. He had looked on with dawning horror as Al missed several shots and finally lost concentration long enough to be taken out by a bludger. He was currently in the infirmary in the company of one concerned Greengrass.
The only person who had come out a loser was Scorpius himself. It was one of the few times in his life he wished he had heeded his father’s advice – “the Potters are nothing but trouble. You’d do well to stay clear of them.”
But no, instead he had seen a young Potter on the train, with a tight grip on his school bag and shuffling feet and darting eyes and had thought of a lost puppy. It didn’t help that the boy’s older brother was completely ignoring him, focusing on his friends as he herded Albus Severus into the compartment.
When James Potter did notice the other occupant, his look of smug superiority sealed the deal. Scorpius was reminded of the look his mother got when addressing the house-elves – and that was just not on. So he’d walked over to them, greeted Al warmly and shut the door in James’ face.
What could he say? It had seemed a brilliant idea at the time. He should have realized he’d end up paying for it later – even if ‘later’ was one year before graduation.
Waiting in front of the Fat Lady was highly embarrassing- he was reminded of all those girls who would stand outside the Slytherin entrance with after-dinner snacks from the kitchens. He would usually pass them onto Zabini or Bones but he’d never given a moment’s notice to how conspicuous such a position was. Ignoring the stares and whispers, not to mention snickers, from passing Gryffindors was frustrating.
He wasn’t a moony-eyed girl waiting for a glimpse of her crush. He was Scorpius Malfoy and he was going to pay back James’ favor if he had to wait all night.
“Hey Weasley! Tell Potter he better be out in the next minute or it’s twenty points off!” Scorpius yelled as a red head passed him by.
Rose Weasley turned and raised an eyebrow, “he’ll come out when he wants to, Malfoy. Being Head Boy does have it’s perks y’know.”
Scorpius ground his teeth. He was going to kill Al tomorrow – after he knocked that smirk off of Potter’s face, of course.
I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE FIC. Well, if 850 words counts as fic >__>