Bested by Gryffindors

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Here We Go Again

Chapter 8: Bested by Gryffindors


If there were two things that have never happened in the history of being Scorpius Malfoy it was begging and listening to a Gryffindor. (Especially one who wasn't a girlfriend.) So with that mentality and way of being for the past sixteen years of life, why the hell was I currently sitting in a chair I've never sat in in all my life, and why the hell was I making a face that suggested deep pleading? I was sure that my grandfather Lucius was rolling in his grave for such a distasteful expression on my inherited Malfoy-features.

None of this would have happened if I hadn't decided to stick around to have dinner last night with the Gryffindors when the only three Gryffindors I care about—my girlfriend Rose, my best friend Emily, and my cousin Liam—were stuck in the library going through large amount of textbooks and old articles for a Defense Against the Dark Arts project they'd been partnered up for. Instead of mingling with my fellow house-mates, listening to their pranks on those with the ruby and gold, I sat with the enemy and listened to two Weasleys and a Potter go on about relationships. And when Potter had suggested that maybe after graduation, after Emily had completed her education too, they'd find a good little flat somewhere, maybe in the Muggle World because his girlfriend was thoroughly accustomed to their electricity-powered items, I snorted.

Potter turned to me with his natural annoyance of me in his eyes, but then said something along the lines of, 'Find that funny, do you, Malfoy? You and your family might be all chummy with us and other creatures in the world, but you still believe that muggles are useless, don't you?'

After that had happened, I should've known to just flip Potter the finger and then walk off somewhere, probably to go interrupt Al and Harper's little date in a secluded classroom on the fourth floor, but of course I didn't. I sat there, ready to explain to the oldest, dimwit Potter that I snorted because I really didn't find the thought about him and my best friend living together in the future appealing. But of course, again, I did something else that I've never done. I allowed a Potter to cut across me.

With a smirk on his stupid face, the Seventh Year Gryffindor spoke with a little too much knowledge for my liking. 'You know, Rose inherited her mother's childhood home from her grandparents. They were muggles, Malfoy. And she's always talked about living there, even going into a muggle university once she's out of Hogwarts. I wonder how long you two will last when you're not allowed to bring a house-elf to do everything for you.'

And that's how I failed at being a Malfoy. I listened to a Potter's teasing, half ass-ed words and I skipped out on my first break of the day to come and talk to the less enchanting teacher in the entire castle. (I deserved the shame, honestly.)

"We're six weeks into term, Mister Malfoy." The beady, dark eyes of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, looked at me with complete seriousness and no sympathy; even through my puppy-dog eyes. "I cannot move around your schedule when I've never allowed that for other students. Your classes for this year were chosen due to your scores in your O.W.L's and your aim at a future career."

I nodded calmly at the elder woman. "I know, Headmistress," I began, "but I really do think I can afford to drop one of my electives. It won't change any of the required classes, and I promise to work hard. I can even talk to the professor; I'm sure he'll allow it."

"You have an impeccable schedule here, Mister Malfoy," she pointed a finger at my timetable resting before her, "and I don't think that switching anything will be beneficial. I'm sorry."

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