Winter Shorts 2008 Round Two: Fic - Society Boys - G
Mod Note: This is the first of three fics for today. Happy reading!
Title: Society Boys
Name: maja_li
Prompt: #018 - “Darling, you can't live your life singing songs in exile. / You were born for stardom's crown and not for self-denial." -- Grant Lee Buffalo, "The Whole Shebang”
Prompt Given by: Anonymous
Word Count: 1173
Rating: G
Betas: nolagal, smirking_muse, faithwood
Author's/Artist’s Notes: Thanks a million to my gorgeous betas, who got this turned around at the speed of light so I could get it in on time! *hugs and pets and adores* Also thanks very much to rattetta, for the title when my brain short circuited! :D
Summary: Scorpius needs a little help with the paparazzi. (AS/S with a veeeery mild side of H/D)
“Scorpius Phineas Waldorf Malfoy! Come down this instant!”
Astoria stood in the marble foyer of Malfoy Manor, glaring daggers at her fifteen year old son, who had been forcibly dragged from his room by the house elves and refused to budge one step further down the steps.
“I told you, Mother, I’m not going!” he shouted back. “Not with all those articles they’ve been printing about Dad! You can’t make me!”
“And how, pray tell, do newspaper clippings about your sire have any effect on you?”
“Because everyone will look at me!”
Astoria threw up her hands and stalked over to the fireplace, where her husband was waiting at the other end of the open Floo connection.
“He’s being Malfoyish again,” she informed Draco wryly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come fetch him.”
“Nonsense,” Draco said, stepping through and brushing a bit of soot from his robes. “What Malfoy has ever been intimidated by a passel of common gossipmongers? Clearly he gets it from the Greengrass side of the family.”
“I was referring to the overbearing stubbornness, actually,” she said affectionately, swatting him on the shoulder. “Now, I’ve got to run to meet Pansy before our Portkey leaves, so do make sure you get him on the train, will you?”
“Yes, yes, go on,” Draco gave her a hug and made little shooing motions. “We manly men will survive without you.”
Astoria rolled her eyes.
“Don’t even try, you froofy pillow-biter,” she smiled, and Disapparated. Draco laughed quietly to himself and strode up the stairs. He leaned on the top railing, cocking his head at his son.
“All right, Scorpius, your mother’s gone. Now, what’s this all about?”
“I told her, I’m not going back to school!” Scorpius repeated, crossing his arms and sticking out his chin. “After everything that’s been in the Prophet there’s nothing good can come of it, so it’s better if I just stay home and register for my NEWTs as a private student.”
“And exactly what message will you be attempting to send by doing that?” Draco countered. “That there are actually students at that school whose criticism worries you? That you are at all concerned with the opinions and perceptions of the mainstream media? Or perhaps that you take after your old man in more than just hair color and social acumen?” He poked Scorpius with his wand, causing the boy’s robes to suddenly turn bright pink.
“Hey!” Scorpius squawked, drawing his wand and waving it frantically over himself.
“That won’t help,” Draco informed him, as his son’s panicked spell casting caused the color to grow ever brighter and more garish. “Now, you have choice. Either you can think about what I’ve said and decide to come to King’s Cross voluntarily, and I change your robes back to black, or I body bind you and stash you in the very first compartment, next to the window, in that sartorial monstrosity.”
Scorpius slumped, defeated. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten his father involved!
* * *
“Albus Potter! Come down this instant!”
Al just gave his father a cheeky grin and continued clambering over the roof of the Hogwarts Express, arms outstretched in pursuit of the acid-green toad hopping steadily along the scarlet engine.
“Here, Trixie,” he coaxed, closing in on his quarry. “You want to go back to Esperanza, don’t you?” The toad peered suspiciously out at him from the shelter of the churning smokestack. Ducking under the black plume of smoke, Al crept closer, careful to keep his arms outstretched and his hands steady.
“Aha! See?” he crowed triumphantly, holding up Trixie in one hand and waving to his father-and the reporters clustered around him-with a cheeky grin. “No worrie-eeh! Ah! Ah!” In his enthusiasm, Al had leaned over to far at the same moment one of them decided to try for a photograph of the intrepid toad rescuer. The flash had startled him and now he was wind milling frantically, fighting to keep his balance as his father watched with his heart in his throat. He managed to right himself, however, and placing Trixie on his shoulder he swung himself carefully down from the roof and in the open window.
Harry shook his head, smiling, and watched the train pull out until the paparazzi turned their attention on him and he Disapparated with a yelp.
* * *
Scorpius crouched behind the garlanded balcony, peeking out every few moments to see if the milling crowd of reporters below him had dispersed yet. How, oh how had he managed to get himself locked out here during the Yule Ball? He’d spent the whole first half of the year carefully and successfully avoiding the attention of the press, and when they did notice him, he made sure they had nothing to write about. Eventually, they always grew bored and wandered back to their coverage of Albus Potter.
Or, you know, whoever else.
“Scorpius! What d’you think you’re doing, freezing your bollocks off out here?”
Well, speak of the devil. Al burst through the balcony doors, regaining the attention of the reporters, who had looked like they might finally have been thinking of leaving. Now, like hounds beneath a treed raccoon, they raised their heads and began to bay.
“Mister Potter! Did you come out here looking for Mister Malfoy?”
“Does this have anything with the recent revelation of the relationship between your fathers?”
“Are we looking at the next generation of Potter-Malfoy romance?”
Al laughed and toasted them with his goblet, hauling Scorpius to his feet with his other hand. Seeing the other boy’s panicked expression, Al caught Scorpius’ eye and winked deliberately.
Then he summarily upended his full goblet over the assembled reporters.
“Augh!
“Oh, my robes-”
“-my camera!”
“Cheers!” Al called, his eyes bright with mischief. Scorpius, torn between horror and delight, couldn’t help leaning precariously over the balcony to watch his spluttering tormentors. A strong arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back from the edge; Al’s warm breath ruffled the short hairs at the back of his neck.
“You’d better make your escape while you can,” he murmured. “That won’t slow them down for long.”
Scorpius gave him a long, considering look.
“Well,” he said slowly, a smile creeping over his face. “If that’s the case…why don’t we give them something to write about?”
Scorpius watched as confusion, realization, and finally delight flashed over Al’s features, until he finally settled on a wicked leer that made Scorpius’ heart race and his pulse hammer in his ears.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Al murmured, and sealed their lips together.
Not surprisingly, that delightful picture was plastered all over the Society pages of the Daily Prophet the next morning. Looking at the expression in Al’s eyes right before they kissed, the way his features softened and all the unnoticed tension ran out of his body, Scorpius thought for the first time that if this was how it paid off, perhaps his fifteen minutes of tabloid fame wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.
Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offence is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.