xscorpiusmalfoyx replied to your photo: Robins and Malfoy? Blah blah blah, pureblood,…
Say what you will about Hazel Robins and I, but using “Son of a Deatheater” as an insult is crossing the line.
Touched a nerve did I, Malfoy?
Robins and Malfoy?
Blah blah blah, pureblood, respectable, blah. As mismatched as the pair is, you’d know it’s doomed to be just another dull marriage. Rather predictably, Scorpius
SoupMalfoy has plans and only our little Robin can fulfil them. Pity, she’s such a pretty thing. He has plans to marry her after school, gotta get on to the baby making. Not like there’s a rush or anything, pureblood are a dying bred. Now - before this loveless engagement bored everyone to tears - does Robins agree? I don’t believe she has much of a choice but, wonder if she has someone on the side. Or is it Malfoy that does?Derek Lowe Suspended for Sexual Harassment
As if we hadn’t see this one coming. Derek Lowe, self-proclaimed “lady’s man”, has been suspended for sexual harassment. His victim, Carmen Wild, had attacked him with Sectumsempra after Derek continually pressed his unwanted attentions on the poor dear.
Wood and Richards are back on
You have to wonder if all the frogs that infested the castle had been a part of Grayson Wood’s wooing technique. Whatever the fuck, it seems to have worked. They were caught in a cupboard together.
Poppy Till and Deacon McLaggen, budding romance?
The pair were witnessed going into the Slytherin sixth year girl’s dormitory, to my utter horror and disgust. Maybe Till is just taking advantage of the naive little boy; maybe she’s using him as payback for the grudge his twin holds against her. Whatever it is, I wouldn’t put it past Till. She is proudly part of Soup’s “mindless minions.”
Brandon D’Eath: Bastard son of a Deatheater
Yet his mother couldn’t even think of a decent last name for the kid. Go figure.
Malfoy twitched at Ace’s touch. The way she touched his leg was too provocative for his liking, but then again he didn’t like any kind of touching. However, he’d already done enough in gripping her wrist so he did not lash out again. He needed to stay in control, he knew that. Part of him did itch to really teach her a lesson on how to behave around him, but that was the same part that contained Great Aunty Bellatrix’s sadistic side, and he certainly didn’t want to let that show.
“What do you want from me?” he asked tonelessly as he watched Ace walk away. He didn’t like the tone of her last few words. She was a dangerous girl when left to her own devices, and he couldn’t have her turn against him. Perhaps it had been a bad move, gripping her wrist like that, but she really knew how to get under his skin. “If you desire a please, you may have it; but knowing you, you would not do anything for a simple please.”
Malfoy’s thoughts now lay on what damage could be done to his own reputation, rather than what damage could be done to the opposing teams. He had only sought the girl’s help in the first place because he knew exactly how much damage could be done. He didn’t know how to play people. She did. He couldn’t afford her wrath.
“Why,” Stopping in her tracks, she turned halfway back to him. She balanced her weight on her back leg, making the distance a pointed thing between them. “what had you wanted from me?” She already knew; he wanted to use her, to demote her to a status little above that of his pets. If Scorpius called that subtlety, she shuddered to think what that word meant to his patchwork brand of ‘followers’.
Ace turned back, her grin broadening until laughter threated to bubble forth. A wise tactician knew when to open all doors, peek around all corners for a political resolution. Even a commanding general had to consider peace before the first shot. And who knew? She might have worked alongside him – for a time and for a price. It would have lovely, really, to have more minions at her disposal than just first and second years, even for a time. Of course, she would have eventually bit the hand that fed her but it would have been all due later rather than due sooner.
She reached the doors that led to the girl’s dormitory, and pausing outside of it, wriggled her fingers in his direction – a lazy wave. “Good night, Malfoy, try not to stay up long. The dark is killer on the eyes,” Another lazy grin and she opened the door, clicking it back in place softly.
Just as Ace had predicted, Malfoy was disturbed by her behaviour. From way she looked at him to the way she seemed to be amused by the whole situation irked him. Fortunately he was in control of his emotions enough to present a calm demeanour. His eyes followed her fingernails as she pressed them over his wrist, not actually minding the slight pinching feeling that came from it.
His eyes found hers again when she spoke, his gaze cold but his irritation contained. He didn’t like the way she touched him, as if he were her play thing, even while he had her wrist in a vice-like grip. Touching was something that made Malfoy uncomfortable. Making contact in a game of Quidditch or hurting someone was alright because at least it wasn’t anything like affection. Ace’s actions always came across as flirting, and as far as he could tell she meant it like that too. As attractive as she was to him (especially those legs), he really wasn’t interested.
Those pale, spidery fingers of his unwrapped from Ace’s wrist and pushed it away from him before letting his own hand rest over his Quidditch plans. “If you wish to apply your skills to this cause, do so. If you don’t, then leave me alone.” Either way, he hoped that she would put a little distance between the two of them. Perhaps he had been too hopeful in thinking that she could help out his team. He had no idea how far her interest stretched, or if it still held after he had practically left a hand-shaped bruise around her wrist.
Her hand tingled as the blood rushed back to her fingers. His grip had done nothing, if not cut off her circulation partially. Scorpius hadn’t intended lasting damage, perhaps he even meant to intimdate her, and that was his mistake. His fatal mistake. Ace didn’t show any outwardly signs, but already her mind was formulating something that would make the Malfoy rue this interaction of theirs. She was touchy, and her trigger had just been pulled. He had laid his cards out, the ones he intended for her, and it was now her turn.
She absently brushed her wrist against the side of her leg, as though mindlessly wiping away evidence of his grip. “All you had to say was please, dearie, and I would have been yours in an instant.” Teasing was her default – it was playful, harmless and the best for deceiving a person. Ace turned it into her weapon, one of her weapons at least, and every word had a knife edge. “We’ll see,” She hummed, in consideration before she turned her back to him and started across the dungeon towards the sixth year girl’s dormitories. “We’ll see.”
Ace Pruitt was vengeful, and she knew how to manipulate her situation to her advantage. That was what made her such a powerful enemy, she could rise up and destroy reputations with a flick of her pen and there was hardly a thing that transpired with her knowing. She was omniscient, or as omniscient as a human could be, and it was delicious.
Malfoy agreed with the comment about Maureen. He kept an eye on the tactics of all the opposing captains. Naturally, he thought he was the best captain out of all the houses. Now in his seventh year of watching how the other teams played, he knew many details about the way that the other teams played. Not just their overall tactics, but the way that the individual members contributed too. Each year he would take his time to learn how the new members played. He even knew which ones were likely to stick to their captain’s plans and which were likely to deviate. What amused him the most about the Gryffindor team was that they had a little fourteen year old blonde, Sierra McLaggen, clinging on to the goal posts as if she could actually defend those three giant hoops by herself. So long as he and his chasers could get the quaffle down to that end of the field, they would have no trouble scoring one goal after the other.
His eyes involuntarily fell upon the girl once again when she shifted, which was entirely her fault in his opinion. She had to know that those sexy legs of hers were like magnets for straight boys’ eyes, and moving them like that was just asking for them to be stared at. He at least had enough self control not to dart his eyes away in embarrassment the moment he realised where he was looking. Instead he steadily lifted his gaze to look Ace in the eyes. She really wasn’t his type, no matter how attractive she was. He could see the way she looked at his plans which were now animated, and he could have used a quick charm to conceal it from her, but he wanted to show her at least a small level of trust so he decided against it.
Malfoy had to resist the urge to shift away from the girl as far as his cushioned armchair would allow when she drew within arm’s reach of him, simply because he really did not like his personal space being invaded. It made his already very ridged posture stiffen. What he didn’t expect was for her to tweak his nose, irritating him enough to make him glare darkly up at her. With his lightning-fast Quidditch reflexes he gripped her wrist before she could pull it out of his reach and held it almost tight enough to bruise. “I have claws… And I also have a problem with people who have no understanding of personal space. I was interested in seeing how your skills could be applied to a game of Quidditch, Pruitt,” -he had reverted back to using her surname- “but do not think that I am desperate for your help.” He did not let go of her wrist.
What got under the skin of most people, what rattled them down to their core, was aa simple as a breath too close to an ear, a fingertip caressing down the arm. It was the invasion of personal space, Ace’s cheat. Even those who were in most avid disbelievers of such a thing fell victim to her.
Scorpius was just another notch on her bedpost, metaphorically speaking.
She didn’t jump, didn’t even flinch, when his hand suddenly encircled her wrist. However, her eyes did become half-lidded and whilst her expression hinted nothing, amusement seemed to radiant off of her. For all he tried, Malfoy was not unflappable. It would just take the precise button to press and he would no doubt become like everyone else. But that button would have to wait.
Twisting her hand, she applied the barest bit of pressure with her nails to his own wrist. This was a vulnerable position for her arm to be in, because all it would take would be for him to twist ever-so and there go her wrist. Or entire arm, if he chose. “Touchy,” She said, in the same bland tone someone might say touché. “How would I ever come to that conclusion? You’re in no need of my abilities, and I am in none of…your doubtless physical prowess. We’ve come to a standstill, and I’ll very much appreciate if you released me. I do use that wrist.”
Ace skittered her nails around his hand, until it became impossible for her to and let her hand fall limp. “They could be applied very well, if I was willing to overlook this, Malfoy.” Her icy tone applied the rest and her smile was thin and sharp enough to cut through glass. “For one unusually adept at word play, your rumpled feathers must’ve gotten the better of you to resort to threats without the inconvenience of a sycophant, darlin’.”
Though Malfoy showed no outward signs of it, he took some pleasure in hearing that small bit of interest in Ace’s voice. He knew it would not go over well if he tried to push her to use those deviant social skills of hers, because they could turn against him at any moment. But to spark her interest and hold it, that could start a fire.
“We are up against the Gryffindor team. I am not too prideful to admit that they have a good team this year.” Pride was more of a Gryffindor trait anyhow. Slytherins were better known for their cunning. It was that sly deceptiveness that made them succeed where others failed. “I do believe that my team has a good chance of winning. However, given that this is my last year I see no harm in having a little extra advantage.” And he needed this win, to prove his leadership skills. His future employers would never know what went on behind the scenes.
He had finished drawing up his diagram of the Quidditch field by now and set down his quill. “I do not doubt your talents. Those Gryffindors have too much heart which will make them easy targets. Though I advise that you avoid provoking the relatives of my team members. They need to keep their head in the game” Namely Lily Potter, and not just because her brother was his seeker. He genuinely didn’t want to see her hurt by this. Not that anyone had to know that. “I don’t suppose you care to share your thoughts so far?” This question was followed by enchantments muttered under his breath with his wand pointed at the Quidditch diagram, which would make them move in demonstration.
For the most part he sounded completely nonchalant, as if it wouldn’t be a big deal to him if Ace turned around and downright refused to help him. He was good at keeping his voice devoid of emotion. This, coupled with his logical and very callous way of thinking had most people thinking he was completely heartless.
“Maureen is a good player, but her captaincy is less desirable,” Ace waved a hand dismissively. The girl was too much of a socialite to probably rally a team behind her. Benjamin Mast was the main point of concern – but he was terribly, terribly blunt. Any plan he talked Tindall into would be a ruthless offense, with a considerable lack of defensive strategy. But, Scorpius already would know that. No sense in parroting something, it would make her seem too eager to please him. That was the last thing she had on her mind.
She drew herself up, lazily crossing her ankle over her knee. What she was attempting to accomplish was too obvious, just as she wanted to be. Tilting her head back, her eyes roamed what she could see of the paper and allowed the conversation to pause. Whatever was on the paper honestly had no interest to her – not even to sell to the other captain – but it was but a small ploy. Her eyes finally left the paper and she settled back down. For now, his words smoothed what few feathers he had rumpled. “They’re frivolous, silly creatures, all kitties are. You just need a bit of string to entertain them.”
“Oh, no no, no, of course not. Darlin’, I’m not as reckless as that.” That was as close of a promise he could hope to extract from her. She looked down, examining her manicured nails. “Whatever I do won’t be big enough to distract the entire team – but, if one of them isn’t defective, I already have an inkling of a way to pop off two members. As well as a Ravenclaw, for what it’s worth.”
She stood up, seemingly because her curiosity got the better of her, and looked down at the enchanted strategies. As she peered at them, she tweaked his nose and almost-fondly cooed, “Aww, Malfoy has claws. Who would’ve thunk?”
“Ace,” Malfoy repeated after the girl. He kept his eyes on her as she looked over the plans he was in the process of drawing up. Once he had the base done, he would place a charm on it to make the little representations of each player move across the parchment. As for working his team too hard, he thought he wasn’t working his team hard enough. If it weren’t for all the homework his team members had to get through, he would have them out in the Quidditch pitch every evening, no matter the weather.
He ignored the use of the word ‘dear’. Ace’s endearments used to bother him, because to him, terms of endearment were only meant to be used when a person was very fond of another. He certainly didn’t think that applied to him and Ace. But over time he had gotten used to the way she spoke and these days he acted as if he didn’t hear them at all.
“What would make the sport interesting to you, then?” he asked casually as added in markings for the keeper of both teams with his self-inking quill. “Perhaps a scandal involving the members of the Gryffindor team cheating? Or maybe a secret romance blossoming between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seekers?” He allowed himself a small smirk after that. “I am sure your devious mind could concoct much better scandals than that.” So long as they weren’t about the Slytherin team. He wouldn’t mind if a false rumour or two got out before a match to throw the opposing team off their game. The Slytherins weren’t known for playing fair after all.
Ace’s lips quirked up - but whether it was in a smile, or a smirk, remained questionable. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Scorpius was one of the stiffest boards within this school - that little Ravenclaw with the highly unforunate name must simply adore him. Next time she spoke with Robert, she would have to see if he knew the boy’s name. He acted so prim and proper, that truth be told, it was somewhat of a turn-off; which was a shame, he was so fit.
His next words wiped the expression from her face, before she tutted and the playful tilt to her lips returned. “Now, now, is that the best you think I’m capable of? Ickle little romantic ploys?” That might be the true extent of her wordcraft, but she liked to believe she made much more interesting stories when the opportunity arose. Her true skill lay where the person was involved - and it all revolved around two simple questions; what makes this person tick? What pushes them off the edge? In true psychologist-style, how does that make you feel?
She pretended to think for a moment, mulling over his half-serious proposition. “Refresh me, darlin’, what team are you going up against?” She was proud of her omission of the rest. -That you feel so insecure about? Gryffindor would be a smash, it was always a pleasure to put Brianna McLaggen in her place. The others, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, barely registered to her.
Malfoy had noticed Ace enter the dormitory. How could he not when she was strutting about on legs like those? Not that he was looking. Well… he was, but he had to admit that those legs could turn the head of any straight boy in Hogwarts, and then some. While she moved about he set his eyes firmly on his Quidditch plans and did not look up again until she spoke his name.
“Pruitt,” he replied. For a moment it was on the tip of his tongue for him to remind her to call him ‘Malfoy’, not ‘Scorpius’, then he changed his mind and let this one pass. She was a pureblood after all, and a Slytherin, so he could stand to be on first name terms with her. And given his earlier line of thought, it would be beneficial if he simply let her call him by his first name. “I am working on tactics for the next Quidditch match,” he explained, though it would not be odd if he had been studying by the fire. He did that often.
“I am counting on the Slytherin team winning the Inter-House Championship this year,” he added with a thin smirk on his pale lips. As captain it was his duty to his house to ensure that this happened, and he was sure that most students in his house was just as interested in the Slytherin team winning as he was. They did have Albus Potter on their team, which counted for something given that his parents, as detestable as they were, both had reputations for being excellent Quidditch players.
“I don’t suppose you have anything to say about this year’s Quidditch tournament?” he asked, trying to remember if she had any passion for the sport at all.
“Ace,” She corrected. She had always preferred going by her nickname, regardless of the person to whom she was speaking to. It was a simple courtesy, in her opinion. If she knew just about everything the person did during school (and sometimes out of, should it prove noteworthy), then it was purely polite for her to give them access to her nickname.
Making a bit of a show of sitting up and tilting her head back to see the plans in more detail, she nodded. “Not working the dears too hard, I trust. This is simply Quidditch; not an agency of miracles.”
“All the captains are, dear,” With how seriously Quidditch was taken by some, you’d expect it to be more than the simple sport it was. To her, all the hype of the games were borderline insanity but with such high tensions, it made for interesting gossip to spread bout. ”You’re going to be hard-pressed not to find a captain that wanted that championship.”
“Oh, you don’t,” She smiled, a bit blankly. Who won didn’t matter a knut to her - it was the ones that got into fights that did. The competition mattered nothing to her, not even the house pride of winning. What did they expect of her? To be proud of wizards and witches chasing balls on brooms? That happened enough in school….minus the brooms, of course.
Embers glowed in the grate of the fireplace, reflecting in Scorpius Malfoy’s silvery eyes as he stared at it absently. The hour had grown late, late enough for the Slytherin common room to be cleared of most of its students. Only a few quiet whispers could be heard over the crackling of the fireplace embers. Malfoy, being in the good chair closest to the fireplace, could have easily put another log on, but it was a warm night so he left it as it was.
On his lap lay a thick book on which he was using as a writing surface while he had been drawing up his plans for the Slytherin Quiditch team’s next match. As captain it was his responsibility to not only come up with an effective strategy but also to make sure that his team understood it and performed well. It would be some time before the match, but Malfoy being Malfoy, he liked to be prepared well ahead of time.
Malfoy’s determination to make the Slytherin team win this year was about more than just house glory. He had an ambitious future to prepare for. It was no secret that he aspired to become the future Minister of Magic. To reach such a high standing in the ministry he would have to count on more than just his wealth. He needed good grades and a record for excelling in his extra-curricular activities. To be able to lead the Slytherin team to victory would be a good display of that.
His reputation would also be important. No doubt rumour fanatics like Rita Skeeter and Candice Pruitt would leap on any opportunity they got to rip his career to shreds before it could begin. As the son on a deatheater he already had a fight before him. Though that was not his only concern. The fact was that he was not as pure and uptight about rules as he led people to think he was. But no one would want him for Minister for Magic if they knew they he had a little bit of his great aunty Bellatrix in him.
If anything, the best strategy would be to lure the Pruitt girl onto his side. If he was going to step into a world of political scandals the moment he left Hogwarts, it would be best done without the school’s biggest gossip releasing unwanted information about him.
The hallways were empty; nothing too surprising, given the hour. Someone less than her might have thought it creepy - it was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the earlier hours of the day. But it was relaxing, just listening to the soft, even clacks of her steps. By far, this was the best time of evening to get things done. There wasn’t any one - other than her - nosing around the hallways. The flyers were all up and the anticipation of their reactions, mingled with a self-satisfied smugness, thrummed through her veins.
If there was ever a good time to catch Ace Pruitt, it would have to be now. A job well done, as evidenced by the flyers distributed throughout the school, and the lazy quirk of her lips edging on an actual smile. Evenings almost always left her in the best of moods, and so far as she returned to the Slytherin dormities, this night was no exception.
Her steps were light on the stairwell leading down, and she paused just outside of the door to unclasp the thin straps around her ankles. Even without the boast given by the high heels, she was tall. Throwing back Ace’s signature white-blonde hair, she strutted through the door.
She found her favored mound of pillows by the remains of the fire, this time having been rearranged against the side of one of the couches. She plopped down, stretching and arching her back as she settled more comfortably. After a bit of wriggling, she hmmed in contentment and dropped her head to one of the pillows, letting her eyes slip close.
When she opened them, they landed on the only other occupant nearest the fire. “Scorpius,” Her eyes dropped to the papers in his lap. Through her veiw was limited from the height differences of their seats, she sat the beginnings of what could only be the Quidditch patch. But rather than knowledge them, she opted to play ignorant and flicked her eyes back to his face. “How studious of you.”
