It was a perfect day in Wiltshire when the young man stood by the large window of the old manor house, overlooking the sunlit fields that stretched from the lush gardens of the house to the horizon. Yet, he found it hard to smile, nor did the splendid flower arrangements and colourful pavilions he could see from his position fill him with joyful expectations. As they should... on his wedding day.
Scorpius Malfoy suppressed a sigh and shook his head as if to call himself to his senses. He had no reason to complain or even sulk. He had known what was expected from him throughout all his life and would follow into the footsteps of his father, grandfather and any other member of his pureblood family. Arranged liaisons with the most suitable candidate for a spouse had been tradition in his family for centuries, and, as he had been both assured and able to witness himself, often resulted in happy, fulfilled unions that far exceeded the initial purpose of continuing a noble bloodline by producing offspring. Cécile, his bride that had arrived from the Dordogne a fortnight previously was an intelligent, cultivated and beautiful young woman with golden brown hair and pretty chocolate-coloured eyes. She seemed pleasant enough to be around, too, though she laughed little and had a distinct air of nobility that made her slightly unattainable. Surely, though, they would get to know and grow fond of each other as so many couples in the same situation had done generations since. His father and his mother were happy, were they not? And when his grandfather had died four years ago, his grandmother Narcissa had not been the same, having said she had lost the love of her life (though that case probably wasn't the best example since they had already started going out while still at Hogwarts).
Hogwarts. The memory both ached and soothed him in the most bittersweet way, but there was no use to dwell on it - on something that now seemed so far away as if from another life even though merely five years had passed since his graduation. He forced himself to draw his eyes from the horizon, to stop squinting north as if, did he only look hard enough, he could overcome Earth's curvature and spot the school in the distance. It was as impossible as going back.
He was just about to turn away from the window and continue getting ready for the ceremony when he caught the tiniest movement from the corner of his eye. He squinted again at the brightness of the early summer's day and spotted the black speck in the distance, moving closer until the shape of an owl became visible. An owl that was flying straight in direction of his window instead of to the owlery behind the kitchen. Brow furrowed in surprise, Scorpius made to open the window, and surely enough mere seconds later, the barn owl landed on his window sill, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet on the carpet by his feet. Scorpius was even more confused, however, when upon reaching into his pocket to find a few knuts to pay the delivery, the owl flew off without a warning. Like almost everyone else, the Malfoys usually paid each issue at receipt. Scooping the folded paper up from the floor, Scorpius walked over to the old wingback chair in his chamber and was about to lay it on the side table when a hand-written note fell from the pages of the Prophet.
Scorpius,
you might find the news article on page seven relevant to your interests.
Scorpius Malfoy suppressed a sigh and shook his head as if to call himself to his senses. He had no reason to complain or even sulk. He had known what was expected from him throughout all his life and would follow into the footsteps of his father, grandfather and any other member of his pureblood family. Arranged liaisons with the most suitable candidate for a spouse had been tradition in his family for centuries, and, as he had been both assured and able to witness himself, often resulted in happy, fulfilled unions that far exceeded the initial purpose of continuing a noble bloodline by producing offspring. Cécile, his bride that had arrived from the Dordogne a fortnight previously was an intelligent, cultivated and beautiful young woman with golden brown hair and pretty chocolate-coloured eyes. She seemed pleasant enough to be around, too, though she laughed little and had a distinct air of nobility that made her slightly unattainable. Surely, though, they would get to know and grow fond of each other as so many couples in the same situation had done generations since. His father and his mother were happy, were they not? And when his grandfather had died four years ago, his grandmother Narcissa had not been the same, having said she had lost the love of her life (though that case probably wasn't the best example since they had already started going out while still at Hogwarts).
Hogwarts. The memory both ached and soothed him in the most bittersweet way, but there was no use to dwell on it - on something that now seemed so far away as if from another life even though merely five years had passed since his graduation. He forced himself to draw his eyes from the horizon, to stop squinting north as if, did he only look hard enough, he could overcome Earth's curvature and spot the school in the distance. It was as impossible as going back.
He was just about to turn away from the window and continue getting ready for the ceremony when he caught the tiniest movement from the corner of his eye. He squinted again at the brightness of the early summer's day and spotted the black speck in the distance, moving closer until the shape of an owl became visible. An owl that was flying straight in direction of his window instead of to the owlery behind the kitchen. Brow furrowed in surprise, Scorpius made to open the window, and surely enough mere seconds later, the barn owl landed on his window sill, dropping a copy of the Daily Prophet on the carpet by his feet. Scorpius was even more confused, however, when upon reaching into his pocket to find a few knuts to pay the delivery, the owl flew off without a warning. Like almost everyone else, the Malfoys usually paid each issue at receipt. Scooping the folded paper up from the floor, Scorpius walked over to the old wingback chair in his chamber and was about to lay it on the side table when a hand-written note fell from the pages of the Prophet.
Scorpius,
you might find the news article on page seven relevant to your interests.
L.P.
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