PROLOGUE (440 WORDS)
Scorpius watched the stars spin around the circumference of the silver watch attached to his wrist, each movement corresponding with the clock ticking over his head. He hardly found the inner workings of the accessory intriguing. Instead, he believed time slowed when he concentrated on the metalwork, which caused his underwhelming seventeenth birthday to pass by at a slower rate. Though, secretly, Scorpius wondered why it would be such a bad thing. After all, the day had been no more exciting than any other. He'd struggled with such knowledge since he'd unwrapped his presents that morning.
His heartbreak resulted from his high hopes; his birthdays were typically underwhelming. They had been since he'd clambered onto the Hogwarts Express five years previous. He wondered why he'd expected his seventeenth to differ and why such a surprisingly peaceful day served the greatest torment. He predicted it was due to the gazes that had passed through him during the day, unaccompanied by the usual sneer or insult. His gift from society had been invisibility. It struggled to raise his spirits. As awful as it could be, the negative attention from other Hogwarts students confirmed, at the very least, that he was thought of by someone other than himself. The ignorance of his presence seemed like a sick punishment from the universe. Scorpius had longed for a day of peace since September. Unsurprisingly, it had been granted on the day he longed for someone else to pay him a second glance.
Still, his father's gift lifted his spirits, and he thumbed over the attached letter in the quietest moments of the day. He was finding it difficult to wait to reencounter the man. In the meantime, such longing only further dampened his storming mind. Too, his clock revealed the late hour.
Scorpius closed his textbook and began shuffling his parchment slips into a pile. He shoved his belongings into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He stepped away from the warm, orange fire crackling in the grate and slipped his hand underneath the mahogany of the desk's tabletop. He took a moment to trace his finger over the carving in the wood; the lingering evidence that his late mother had passed through the same halls he occupied daily. His heart lightened, only slightly, at the familiar sensation. Too soon, his fingers fell away, and he took care of tucking in his chair. His shoes clicked on the wooden floorboards as he passed through the library; keen to return the emerald sheets he'd torn himself from that morning – at such a point, delighted that the day had almost ended.
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Kinetics | Scorbus AU
FanfictionScorpius Malfoy's birthday passed him by, as did the countless other students littering the Hogwarts halls. Friendships were foreign - often, he found himself tongue-tied, trying to withhold a conversation. In most instances, he found it simpler to...
