Letter from Draco Malfoy to Scorpius Malfoy, sent 6th August 2023
Dear Scorpius,
Your mother has written to tell me that you have been made Head Boy. Well done, my son, we are both immensely proud of you.
However, your mother has also told me that Rose Weasley has been made Head Girl alongside you. The history between the Weasleys and Potters and us had been rather bad. The war has been long over, and things between our family and theirs are relatively all right, but I find that it is in your best interests not to get too close to them. You never know what they’re capable of.
I am very sorry that I won’t be able to see you before school starts, as we are reaching the finalising stages of the agreement, and work is very intense. The next time I shall see you will probably be during the Christmas holidays. Until then,
Your Father
Rose Weasley was very in touch with words. A thriller novel would often send chills down her spine, an emotional scene in a book would probably bring tears to her eyes, and an occasional indulgence in fluff would leave her giggly. But no words had a greater impact on her than those in the letter that the Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts had just sent her, which informed her that Scorpius Malfoy was Head Boy to her Head Girl.
At first she thought that it was a hoax; that her mischievous cousin James Potter had imitated Uncle Neville’s handwriting and laboriously written a long letter informing her of her appointment, enclosing in the envelope cousin-in-law Teddy Lupin’s old Head Boy badge, transfigured to read Head Girl. But after picking up the envelope to check for the inimitable Hogwarts seal and finding it there, she stared at the letter in growing horror until her fifteen-year-old brother, Hugo, came into the room and found her with her mouth hanging open.
“What’s that, sis?” Hugo asked, neatly snatching the letter out of her hands. She grabbed at the parchment, tugging it out of his hands.
“None of your business,” she said shortly. “Go practise your Keeping or something, I’m busy here.”
“Dad’s over at the joke shop, and Mum’s out grocery shopping,” Hugo said pitifully. “Can you be Chaser, please?”
Rose sighed in annoyance. “Hugo, go away. You don’t want me to be holding a Quaffle in my hand right now.”
“Ah, must be that letter, right?” Hugo looked at the parchment keenly. “What’s that, then, letter from your boyfriend wanting to break up? Is it that Ravenclaw Keeper you like? What’s his name “ Daniel Corner?”
Rose snapped. “Hugo! Out.” She pointed towards the doorway until her brother walked sulkily through it, and then banged the door shut and locked it. How on earth did her brother know about her crush on Daniel Corner? She hadn’t told anyone with the exception of her best girlfriend, Christabelle Ting. Even her other best friend, Albus Potter, didn’t know; she hadn’t told him because he was a boy, and telling him would be very awkward.
But then the more pressing matter surfaced again “ Professor Candlelaine’s choice of Head Boy. Rose knew Scorpius Malfoy “ or at least, by sight. He never spoke to her, her brother and cousins, unless it was absolutely necessary. In turn, they never spoke to him, either. The two parties “ though calling Malfoy a party was a bit of a misnomer, really, him being just one person “ didn’t exchange cold glares or made shows of snubbing each other. Sometimes curious glances were thrown (on the Potters and Weasleys’ part), but otherwise they just passed each other in the corridors like strangers did.
One thing Rose knew was that Malfoy was always surrounded by his Slytherin friends. At any one point of time she passed him, he would have his posse trailing after him, usually hanging on to whatever he was saying. Oh, yes, Malfoy was a rather popular student; he didn’t talk much in public, but when he did, everyone quieted down to listen. Pure charisma. Rose supposed that was why Professor Candlelaine, the Headmaster, had chosen him as Head Boy. If given the four boy prefects in her year, she supposed that she would have chosen him, too.
Albus, her fellow Gryffindor prefect, was usually capable, but was sometimes a little too inclined towards the mischief that his brother James would sometimes rope him into making. Besides, he would have been a better Quidditch captain “ a post that Professor Candlelaine had appointed him, and Albus was very happy with it. Kelvin Anderson, the Hufflepuff prefect, was nice, but sometimes he was a little too soft. Daniel Corner, the Ravenclaw prefect and Keeper and her crush, possessed some leadership qualities, but he was sometimes a bit of a wild card, the kind of personality that Rose didn’t have and therefore was curious about, attracted to. So yes. Scorpius Malfoy was the best Head Boy of all, and it would be an uncomplicated task working alongside him for the next school year. It wouldn’t do her any harm to get to know him, either. She had always felt a little curious about him since their first year, when her father had pointed him out to her at King’s Cross Station.
So why was it that she felt uneasy when thinking about the year ahead?
Ah, yes. Family history, that was why. Rose knew that her parents and her family, in general, didn’t like Scorpius Malfoy’s father, and that this rivalry dated back to the days when her paternal grandfather, Arthur Weasley, and Malfoy’s grandfather, Lucius Malfoy, were in their prime. Uncle George had often, sniggering, recounted the time when both Grandfather Arthur and Lucius Malfoy had been fighting in Flourish and Blotts. Rose gloomily sat down in the armchair by the windows. With a family history such as that, she highly doubted that if her father would be jumping for joy when he heard that she was to work in close contact with a Malfoy. Jumping in anger, more like.
Sighing, she reached over to her overstuffed bookshelf and pulled out one of her favourite Muggle novels. Nothing like a good book to keep out the worry of what she’d tell her parents when they returned.
*
“Rosie! Hugo! Dinner’s ready!”
At the distant sound of her mother’s call, Rose awoke with a start. The book had fallen onto the floor while she’d slept, and her joints ached from lack of movement. There was a nasty taste in her mouth, and, grabbing her wand from her bedside, she refilled the empty mug at her desk with a mental Aguamenti! After gulping down a few mouthfuls, her mouth decidedly tasted better, and her head had cleared enough for the awful thought of breaking the news to her parents (her father, in particular) to occur to her again.
Steeling herself, she wrenched open the door and attempted to put on a cheerful front, with positive waves radiating off her. She pursed up her lips to whistle, and upon finding out that only a pitifully thin sound came out, quickly stopped. She went down the stairs to join her family, and sat down at her place. Her father was just telling her mother and brother about a funny incident that happened at the joke shop that day, and Rose was glad to see him in a fine humor. That should make telling him the news a whole lot easier.
… Or so she hoped.
When her father’s tale ended to uproarious laughter from her brother and mother (she’d chuckled feebly), there was a silence, filled only by the chinks of forks and spoons hitting the plates. She shut her eyes and counted to ten, then cleared her throat just as her father started to say something. He looked inquiringly at her. Rose chickened out.
“Nothing,” she said. “Continue whatever you were going to say.”
“I just wanted to ask if you two’ve gotten your Hogwarts letters yet, it’s nearly August,” her father said.
Here we go, she thought wearily, as her brother gave an affirmative grunt.
“As it is, it’s been sent to me,” she squeaked, then cleared her throat and gulped down some water, succeeding in choking on the mouthful that she gulped. Her mother whacked her on the back till she calmed down.
“What is it you were saying?” her mother asked Rose, eyeing her with the warm brown eyes that were so like her own.
“I “ I’ve been made Head Girl,” she said, mustering a smile for the sake of her family.
Her father looked stunned for a moment, then reached over and ruffled her red hair, saying delightedly, “Atta girl, Rosie! I knew you’d get the post!”
Hugo raised his eyebrows, saying, “Well done!”
Her mother grinned widely at first, but upon seeing Rose’s faltering smile, her grin faded too. “There’s something else, isn’t there, Rosie?” she asked Rose.
For some odd reason, the concern in her voice made Rose feel like crying. She took a deep breath and mumbled to the tablecloth, “Malfoy’s Head Boy.”
“Come again?” her father asked.
“Scorpius Malfoy’s been made Head Boy,” she said more loudly, then anxiously looked at her father. There was a strange expression on his face, a cross between disbelief and outrage. Before he could say anything, however, her mother intervened.
“Oh, love,” she said, passing her hand over Rose’s hair. “How does that make you feel?”
Rose knew that her mother was highly intelligent, but hated when she played ‘psychologist.’ What was she supposed to feel? Judging by the expression of her father’s face, she knew that saying, “offended that he’d be paired alongside with me” would keep her in his good books, but in all honesty, if she disregarded the whole family history, then she felt quite all right.
“Er, I feel “”
“Furious, I should think! Why on earth would that barmy Headmaster of yours make Malfoy Head Boy?” her father blustered, pounding on the table for effect. The plates and cutlery rattled, and Hugo removed his set from the table, continuing to eat off his lap while watching them with the air of someone watching a highly exciting soap opera, the kind her mother said she used to watch when she was younger and didn’t yet know that magic existed.
“Ron!” her mother scolded. “I was asking Rosie, not you.”
Her father seethed and stared at Rose, making it impossible for her to tell her mother how she really felt.
“I, er, I feel quite annoyed,” she managed, nodding at her father, who looked appeased.
“And damn right she should,” he growled. “Our Rosie isn’t fit to be partnered with the likes of Scorpius. It’s fine if they’re working together for a short period of time, but one year…”
“Ronald, I think it’s highly unfair for you to judge Scorpius when you know next to nothing about him,” her mother said, but even as she spoke, her penetrating eyes were turned onto Rose, seemingly saying, I know that you’re not telling the absolute truth, Rose Mary-Ann Weasley, and I’ll want to know why.
Rose ducked her head and kept her eyes on her plate. Out of the corner of her eyes, as she spooned food into her mouth mechanically, she saw her parents mouthing furiously at each other. When half her dinner was eaten, she mumbled, “May I be excused now?”
“Sure, darling,” her mother replied distractedly, and Rose pushed back her chair before escaping to her room, which was flooded with the light of the evening sunset though it was already eight o’ clock. Despite the fact that she’d done nothing all day but laze around reading books, Rose suddenly felt extremely tired. She lay down on her bed and gazed at the sky, pinkish from the sinking sun. Her parents’ furious murmurings travelled easily up to her room. She didn’t want to hear them. She didn’t want to think about the issue at hand, either, until she had to. She was about to drag herself off her bed to shut her door when someone knocked on it.
“Rose? Can I come it?” her mother called softly.
Rose gave a non-committal shrug, and seconds later, felt a weight settling at the foot of her bed.
“Honey, how do you really feel about having to work with Scorpius Malfoy?”
Rose said nothing, just pursed up her lips.
“Rose, there are better ways of solving the problem besides keeping mum, you know.”
“Oh, all right, if it really bothers you,” she told her mother, struggling to sit up. “I feel all right with the idea, actually. I mean, I don’t like Malfoy, but I don’t particularly loathe him, either. Working with him is just something new, I guess, though I’m not particularly looking forward to it like I would if the Head Boy had been “” She stopped herself just before the words “Daniel Corner” slipped out of her mouth. Her mother seemed to know the gist of it, though, if her grin was any indication. To Rose’s relief, she chose to say nothing more on that matter.
“You probably know that your father isn’t very happy with this arrangement.”
Rose snorted. “Really? I hadn’t realised,” she said. Her mother ignored her.
“But I’ve talked to him, and he’s decided to give Scorpius a chance. And as for you,” her mother said, reaching over to tap Rose’s nose like she used to when Rose was just a child, “you have been raised with the prejudice that Malfoys are sly, unreliable creatures. And I want you to get rid of that prejudice “”
“Honestly, Mum,” Rose interrupted. “I don’t have prejudices of that sort. I’m not such a blind jumper-of-the-bandwagon.” Her mother stared at her, and then smiled
“I see that Professor Candlelaine’s made an excellent choice for Head Girl,” she said. Rose felt a burst of affection for her mother, who assured her when things were going wrong, who told her she was pretty when she wasn’t, who did so many things for her that, sometimes, she just forgot them. “All right, then, you just retire for the night. Must’ve sapped all your energy, telling your father the news.” Her mother winked at her and got off the bed, then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Rose blinked. It never failed to amaze her whenever her mother read her like the books the two of them so loved.
*
Relax, Rose told herself, her hand positioned on the sliding door of the prefects’ compartment. You’ll do just fine. Just be yourself, like Mum said.
I’d only be too happy to be myself, she heard another voice retort, but I can’t seem to find it, thank you.
She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the second voice. She was a wreck. A ruin. Her hair, which she’d taken a few precious seconds to tie up in an untidy ponytail, was probably in a mess, and her robes probably looked as though she had slept in it the night before. Thank god they were black; wrinkles didn’t show up that clearly on black. Why, oh why did they have to wake up late on the most important day of her life? Her family had slept in till ten, and then there was the horrible rush of last-minute packing. Her mother had insisted on them driving to King’s Cross, as Hugo hadn’t learned to Apparate yet. They’d reached Platform Nine and Three-Quarters just before the guards blew the whistle and the doors were shut. And so here she was, looking entirely disheveled, with her trunk chucked somewhere in a random compartment full of bewildered first-years.
“Er, excuse me…” came a familiar male voice from behind her. Rose whipped around, and found herself staring into Daniel Corner’s warm hazel eyes.
“Ohh!” she gasped, silently cursing the fact that he was seeing her at her worst in close quarters. “I’m sorry “”
“No, you’ve no reason to be sorry,” he objected, a charming half-grin lighting up his face as he slid the door open from behind her. “Ladies first,” he added, bowing with a flourish.
And so the fifth-year prefects’ very first impression of their Head Girl was a foolishly smiling girl who was blushing so furiously that her face was almost the same shade as her hair. It was only when the compartment door thudded shut behind Daniel that Rose regained her senses. By then, everyone was staring at both she and Daniel. Rose was about to apologise for her lateness when Daniel took over. “Apologies for our tardiness,” he said smoothly.
Scorpius Malfoy, who was sitting at the head of the compartment, nodded. Rose walked towards the empty chair designated for the Head Girl, not daring to look directly at him. She could feel the eyes of all the prefects on her, and the thought was unnerving. The heat rose to her cheeks again.
“This is Rose Weasley, the Head Girl,” said Malfoy, after she sat down beside him as quickly and quietly as she could. She mustered a sweeping, brisk smile at all of them. Albus raised his eyebrows, probably telepathically asking her why she was late. She shook her head at him slightly. Daniel Corner caught her eye, smiling at her almost imperceptibly. She lowered her head, trying to conceal the foolish grin that was about to take over her face. “Before you came in,” Malfoy said to Rose, not troubling to keep his voice down, “we were just about to welcoming the fifth-year prefects.”
“Oh,” she said, and quickly looked at the faces she didn’t recognise from last year. “Welcome to the prefectorial board, fifth-years. You’re here because you were chosen by your respective Heads of House. You were all thought to possess main qualities of a leader “ charisma, integrity, conscientiousness, and many others. Don’t let us down.”
She shot a sidelong glance at Malfoy, who was lazily riffling through some of the parchment rolls. He was clearly not paying attention, so she was surprised when he said, without looking up at the rest of the prefects, “And to the rest of you, welcome back. Now, we will have at least two meetings every term to discuss administrative matters, such as schedules for patrolling Hogwarts at night…”
And to Rose’s eventual annoyance, he talked and talked as though he was the only Head Prefect in the compartment. During the times when he drew breath, she hurriedly jumped and added some noteworthy things, lest the prefects thought she was being henpecked. When the meeting was finally over, and all of the prefects had filed out of the compartment, Rose turned to face Malfoy.
“I’d like an explanation from you,” she said, trying not to let her voice waver, like it always did when she was angry. Because of that, she usually sounded more like she was about to cry than lecture.
“What about?” Malfoy asked tonelessly, shuffling some parchment.
“You practically helmed the whole meeting!” Rose spat. “I barely had the chance to speak.”
He raised a finger. “But you did speak,” he said, without looking up.
Rose squinted at the blonde hair partially covering Malfoy’s face. “Only a few sentences. The prefects won’t take me seriously.” Her argument was beginning to sound like the whine of a teething two-year-old who had a dirty slipper taken out of her mouth by her horrified mother.
Malfoy stood up so abruptly that she was taken aback. “Next time you want to be taken seriously, Weasley,” he said in a low voice, “I suggest that you arrive for meetings punctually.”
And with that, he swept out of the compartment, leaving Rose alone with her mouth hanging open.
A/N: I'm terribly sorry about the long over-due update. I did try writing out the first chapter, but each time it came out all wrong. To date I have three different versions of the first chapter, and various versions of a section which I decided to omit in the end. So, what do you think? Feel free to give me criticism, every author needs it. (: