SCORPIUS HYPERION MALFOY.

GRYFFINSCOR. indie & selective & canon-divergent scorpius hyperion malfoy.        ★            HOME. // ABOUT. // RULES. // VERSES.

                 “RUN.” He’s joking, but she doesn’t have to know that.

                The air in the pub is musty and smells of sweat and beer and the sheer thickness of it is enough for him to have to hightail it outside just so he can breath. Pretending to be a muggle was proving to be more difficult than he thought ( or maybe it was just because he was doing things a bit extreme; he wasn’t of legal drinking age in the Wizarding World, but muggle Bristol had a lower age cap, and that meant drinking more than he’d meant to ). He leans against a wall beside the door and debates heading back, hand pressing against the vial of floo powder in the pocket of his trousers, when a voice startles him from his thoughts. Scorpius had been drinking with him inside... well, more like, had been in awe of how much the other could drink, but it dawns on him now that he doesn’t even know his name.                “What?” He’s so lightheaded he doesn’t really process what he’s saying for a moment, and when he does all he musters is a, “oh, well, I just needed a --” He feels the vial of floo powder in this pocket again, tempted, but there’s something oddly alluring about the boy in front of him. For some reason he really wanted Tony to like him. “A smoke?” It comes out unsure, but at least that answer justifies why he was feeling at his pockets, and there were a few muggles milling around him smoking something that really stunk, “I think I dropped them, though.” 

               He stares unimpressed when Albus gets up and walks away, letting out a hefty sigh in response. “You know what? Fine.” Scorpius stands up and grabs his book bag that’s hanging off the end of his bed.                 “If you’re going to be like that, then maybe I will.” He shifts the strap of his bag onto his shoulder and heads for the door, careful not to bump into Albus as he paces, “I’m not in the mood for you to direct your anger at me for something I had no part in, anyways.”

happy baby malfoy sounds

               Albus was like an open book with his emotions some times to the extent that it was almost embarrassing to watch him deny what was written so clearly all over his face. He sits across from him crossed-legged on his bed and leans forward so their foreheads bump together.                 “C’mon, just tell me what’s wrong -- I can’t snog you when your face looks like that. It’s unappealing.”

scorpius is in the mood for a hug ??? pls help him

             Potter-Weasley family gatherings were huge and incredibly              uncomfortable for a Malfoy... and he was beginning to regret              letting Albus talk him into coming, especially when his friend              got pulled off by some one and left him alone. He stood              awkwardly near the food, sipping on a cup of juice more out              of needing something to do to occupy himself rather than              because he was thirsty.                He decides to go find a quiet place inside to hide until they               leave and turns to head in, but accidentally bumps straight               into Teddy Lupin, his juice effectively soaking his shirt. “Shit               -- I mean -- uh ... I’m sorry.”

               Ouch. It feels like he’s just taken a quaffle to the gut, but he forces a smile anyways despite the sinking feeling in his stomach. It had been a selfish thought, anyways, to wish that it hadn’t gone well... he knows that, really, but it didn’t stop him from hoping. There’s a glimmer of something when he says there’s not a connection, but it fades when he admits that they’re still going on a second date. “Well, yeah, another date can’t hurt, and at least she’s pretty.” He almost convinces himself that he’s okay with it by his tone of voice, so even and unwavering, just like the smile on his lips.                “Anyways, though, I should get going. You took forever and I’ve got to sleep before my Quidditch match tomorrow.” He starts shoving his books into his bag, too hastily, and then stands up and shifts it onto his shoulder, ready to high tail it out of the library and to the Gryffindor common room where he can brood in peace. “You’ll be there, right? I’ll just see you after, then -- have a good night.” And with that he practically runs out of the room and down the halls, only stopping when he’s made it past the portrait hole and into the safety of his common room. His chest feels tight, and he feels like he could be sick, so instead of chatting with his peers or team members he heads straight to bed.                  The next morning he pushes Albus out of his thoughts and focuses on Quidditch. They lose to Ravenclaw by a large margin and Scorpius can’t help but think it’s his fault for being distracted... He really wants to crawl into a hole, but his team mates insist on throwing a party for a morale boost ( “we can’t let a loss get us down!!” ) and so he has to wait until they’re done setting up for that to return to his room. So he finds himself in the library again, wishing he could talk to Albus... he could have, but he had a feeling seeing him would make his mood worse, and so he’d sort of been avoiding him all day... oops. He lays an open book on his face and leans back in his chair, figuring a nap would maybe do some good.

               “Even if you don’t think it was a flirt, that boy did, and so do I. Your definition of it doesn’t change what I think. I’m sure he took that wink as a ‘oh you totally have a chance with me, let me just ditch Malfoy over here and we can go make out in a closet somewhere’. You’re part Veela, encouraging his feelings is only going to make him more persistent.” And it was true, he had seen the glimmer of hope in the poor sucker’s eye as Louis winked at him, and it wasn’t a pretty sight to see some one stricken by the magic of the Veela enchantment. Scorpius had been, once, when he was younger, with Victiore Weasley... but Louis had never affected him that way. What he felt for him was pure love, it was real... even when he was driving him insane by saying all the wrong things in all the wrong ways. All he had to do was apologize and Scorpius might have let it go, but it seemed the French really were as stubborn as rumors proclaimed.                   Scorpius remains still, a very sour look on his face as Louis creeps closer and lays his head and hand over him once again. And then he has to scoff at the backwards apology Louis offers him, and he realizes that there’s no getting through to him. “You can’t even guarantee you won’t do it again? Really?” He runs a hand down his face, trying to calm himself before he says anything that he doesn’t mean and that he’ll regret later when he’s not so annoyed. He hates this feeling; anger, jealousy, a nagging feeling of uncertainty. He loves Louis, really, he wouldn’t be with him if he wasn’t, and a large amount of the time he was extremely happy with him, but it was moments like these that made him wonder if he was really the right choice for the Weasley. Maybe he needed some one who didn’t care as much about things like this, some one more laid back. “Can you just... leave me alone for awhile? Obviously we’re not going to agree on this, and everything you say is just making me feel worse.” He hasn’t moved or pushed Louis off, he doesn’t see the point if the other boy is just going to climb right back on top of him. “You’re just not... understanding me... or even trying, so I don’t see the point in talking about it anymore.”