HeartBeater : A Scorose Fanfic

Chapter One - THE GIRL WHO BROKE NOSES

The new Quidditch season came without warning, barrelling into Hogwarts still blustery and dishevelled by the icy sting in the wind; too angry and cold to be a spring breeze.

Scorpius carried his old Firebolt propped on his shoulder, attracting the attention of a gaggle of pinched-faced first year girls who giggled together and tried to snap pictures with their smart computer phone things.

‘Aww,’ whined one shaking the device so hard Scorpius reckoned, had the little men inside concussing. ‘It’s not uploading! Why isn’t it uploading?’

This is Hogwarts, ignorant little Muggle spawn, Scorpius thought. There are such things as wards!

‘Look at those confused babies!’ Prakash Patil-Sharma, their solid-as-a-mountain Keeper guffawed, walking backwards to keep the wind from messing his thick, dark hair. ‘Though isn’t it about time someone in this school figured out a way through the WiFi ward? Hey Chang! You’re a Muggleborn Asian! Why haven’t you enabled WiFi at Hogwarts?’

‘Man, that’s just racist!’ drawled Damian Chang, but his eyes were sparkling as he repeatedly bobbed the Quaffle between his knees. ‘And I ain’t Muggleborn remember?’

Chang had suffered a lot when he was a first year at Hogwarts for he was American, not shy to state his opinion and had grown up in a ghetto lost to his birth parents until the Hogwarts letter helped reunite them. His mother, Cho had been Ravenclaw’s Seeker during her time and though he was the most acrobatic Chaser to date, Chang always claimed he was nowhere near as good as her.

‘Besides, I suck at computers! Haven’t been around them since I was too busy hustling for a life back there!’

‘You know I’m just pissing around with you mate?’ Sharma grabbed Chang in a headlock forcing him to drop the Quaffle which rolled away, past Scorpius, down the hill towards the Quidditch pitch.

‘Malfoy!’ Chang called out to him and Scorpius ran after the smear of dark crimson against the even darker grass, until it bumped onto someone’s shoe and came to a stop.

Scorpius stared at the shoes; familiar with long undone laces trailing through the mud, grass stains and scuff marks spattered across the canvas.

He gathered the Quaffle to his left hand and followed the muddy hem of the red robes up to the red cheeks, sugared with two dozen freckles and the redder, giant fuzzy mushroom of hair that had become a common place trademark at Hogwarts lately.

Weasely.

One of many. The school had succumbed to the extended Potter-Weasely clan like the dragon pox plague that killed Great Granddad Abraxas.

But to him, to Scorpius, this little bundle of red was the Weasely.

Rose Weasely; the oldest child of the great Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement and her bumbling buffoon of a husband.