Post by herm-own-ninny on May 23, 2009 22:54:34 GMT -5
Okay, so originally developed this for a story centering around Albus Potter, but then I discovered I like Scorpious way better. He's just a cooler character (in my head at least)
I guess this is a prologue. I don't know. oh, and fyi, the rest is going to be in 1st pov. (from scorpious' perspective. I just thought it would be more fitting in 3rd pov here.)
And also note that this isn't what I think actually happens, I just thought this was a fun idea to write.
Critique please!
Mr. Malfoy has been thought of as a new version of Malfoy, as hasn’t been shown for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Where in school he had been something of a rich, snobbish bully, he now stood for diplomatic resolve, having learned that this was his best option in most, if not all, situations. He never revealed his full intentions until he knew it was safe. He never showed an affinity to anything. He kept to himself most times, rarely getting involved or showing weakness.
He had started a business shortly after his short six month stay in Azkaban prison. He never talked about his time there, but he had come out a changed man. His business, a firm that made potions, had started modestly, but grew over a good three years to be one of the leading companies in the country. Perhaps when he was younger, before the war, he might have bragged about his success, now he didn’t seem to take any interest. He went to work each morning and came home every evening without having much to say.
Few people were surprised when he announced his engagement to Astoria Greengrass, a flamboyant flirt of a girl, a few years younger than him. She was, of course, a pureblood, and her family had a long lineage of Slytherin. It was an expected match. Malfoy’s last girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, had now gone and married his friend Mr. Goyle. It was clear, though, that there was no love between the two. Malfoy continued with his brooding, while his new bride spent the money and continued her flirting. They seemed to be attractive enough to each other for the new Mrs. Malfoy to become pregnant fairly quickly after the ceremony.
A few months later Mrs. Malfoy gave birth to a set of twins, a girl named Linnie and a boy named Orion.
Mr. Malfoy woke one morning at the same time he did every morning. He ate the same donut and drank the same coffee over his usual reading of the Daily Prophet business section before his wife woke, as usual to yell at the servants. He sat just as passively as normal while she ranted about the latest scandal.
“… she deserved that bite after her affair with that horrid muggle, if you ask me.”
“uhuh,” He grunted.
She didn’t even seem to mind that he never gave a proper response. She just kept going on about some other news. Like some woman’s daughter who was now pregnant at the age of sixteen due to some muggle boy. Mr. Malfoy showed no emotion as continued to read his paper.
Then, as usual, he excused himself to go shower, and get ready for work. He dressed himself in his usual black robes. None of his clothing had much color. No greens, reds, blues, or yellows much to his wife’s dismay.
He checked on his two children, both of whom were fast asleep, and then headed down to kiss his wife good-bye.
“Don’t forget,” she said as walked out the door, “we have that ministry function to go to tonight.”
“Yes, dear,” came the absent-minded reply. His mind was on work already. No doubt what ever she said was going to be repeated by his secretary.
He arrived at work, and just as he predicted, his plump secretary, Ms. Brown, reminded him of the function. It was for some awareness on some issue he no longer remembered. He went to most functions in part to be impartial to all issues and in part because his wife liked to be very social. Something he didn’t entirely approve of, but said nothing.
Work went by in a blur of papers, meetings, and reports of supposed new breakthroughs in potion formulas. He made his decisions slowly, taking his time to see all options before choosing the best one. He had become methodical, and his employees had come to accept it, although it occasionally frustrated them. That’s why he always had his own personal cook prepare his meals.
He came home after work. If he had been pleased by his day, his wife had no interest. She simply asked the question out of politeness. She talked about her latest shopping spree.
“There was this cute little outfit for Linnie I just had to get it. It was the prettiest shade of green.” For the first time that day, her husband’s eyes flashed in annoyance. She didn’t seem to notice his glance, and went right along talking about how cute the design was.
“Take it back,” he announced softly, not looking her in the eye.
She was taken aback. “Why, darling?” she tried as sweetly as she could, perhaps in the hope that he would change his mind.
“Because I said so,” he replied just as quietly, but there was a hint of anger that rarely flared in the Malfoy household.
“But, my dear,” she reasoned, “None of the children have any clothing that isn’t white, black, or in Linnie case pink. How would it look if your children never dressed appropriately when they grew up and began to represent you in the world?”
He lifted his intense gray eyes to his wife’s browns. “It will look like they do not affiliate with any house at Hogwarts. When they are sorted they can wear whatever they wish.”
She dropped the subject. Perhaps she sensed that it was useless to argue, but more than likely she just didn’t want to. She just wanted to go shopping. There was a cute guy at the counter.
Mr. Malfoy and his wife left, shortly after their discussion. Sensing his sensitivity to certain colors, she wore a white gown, that just so happened to show some cleavage.
Even when he got there, he couldn’t remember what the function was for. He must’ve gone to three this week alone. But he had to keep up appearances. He had to be fair to all. He couldn’t afford flaunt to one or the other with his large pocketbook. They would just say that he was reverting back to his old ways.
He didn’t recognize many people there, unless they were pointed out by his wife, or his assistant, who was standing nearby with a memorized guest list in her hands.
He did, however, recognize some very unfriendly faces. He tried to remain passive as Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Granger passed by. It became too much for him, and he excused himself to go to the bar. Once there he ordered a fire whiskey, and drowned himself in a bottle. His wife had enough sense to leave him alone, and after a moment so did his assistant. She was paid by the hour anyway.
It didn’t take long before a reporter came up to him. She was pretty; long pale blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes, and legs that went on for miles. All of which were accented by her elegant blue dress.
“Hello, Draco Malfoy I presume,” she said, with a large brilliant smile.
“Should I know you?” He replied, his words had a slight slur to them.
She laughed, “Probably not. I’m not well known yet. I just started at <i>The Daily Prophet</i>.”
“Oh.” He didn’t sound too happy about that. He crawled back into his glass.
“If it helps I’m not asking for an interview. I’m just asking for a quote on the House-elves act.”
“Is that what this event is for?” he said, quietly to himself.
“He doesn’t seem to recall what the even is for…” she began scribbling.
“Don’t print that!” he exclaimed in alarm.
She giggled again. “Of course I’m going to run it. It’s my job to present the truth.”
“you… arg! I can’t think straight. “
“Well of course not!” she replied briskly, “You’ve been drinking heavily for the past hour.”
“I have not.” He checked his watch, then swore.
“None of the other reporters dared come over here. You were looking very dark and gloomy. In fact, you still look dark and gloomy.” She pulled a camera, out of her purse and took a picture of him glaring at her.
“If you’re worried about your coming off in a bad light, I wouldn’t. I’m just the gossip columnist. No one pays attention to me anyway, not with the Potter Weasley gang to read about.” She seemed to notice an even darker look on his face and took another picture.
“I didn’t catch yorname.”
“I didn’t give it.” He glared at her, and she laughed. “If you think you’re intimidating you should meet my boss.”
Shaking her head, she pulled out her wand, and tapped the camera with it. In seconds she frowned, and tapped it again.
“You know, it doesn’t look good, when a person is drinking alone.” He said, musingly.
“Is that right?” She said, distractedly, having been too busy trying to figure out her camera.
“Care to join me.” She looked up, surprised. Then, glanced at the clock and shrugged.
“I’m off in five minutes. Besides, nothing much is happening at this party anyway,”she replied, and promptly ordered a butterbeer.
The longer they stayed, the more they drank. And the more they drank, the less Draco remembered. He woke up the next morning, with a blasting headache that kept him in bed all day long. He vaguely remembered a girl, coming home, and vowing never to tell his wife something, but that was it.
Astoria had, of course, a fabulous time without him, never really seeing him until the next morning. She had danced with every single guy in the room, half of whom personally bought her a drink. She didn’t remember much.
So the two of them nursed head aches together.
I guess this is a prologue. I don't know. oh, and fyi, the rest is going to be in 1st pov. (from scorpious' perspective. I just thought it would be more fitting in 3rd pov here.)
And also note that this isn't what I think actually happens, I just thought this was a fun idea to write.
Critique please!
Mr. Malfoy has been thought of as a new version of Malfoy, as hasn’t been shown for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Where in school he had been something of a rich, snobbish bully, he now stood for diplomatic resolve, having learned that this was his best option in most, if not all, situations. He never revealed his full intentions until he knew it was safe. He never showed an affinity to anything. He kept to himself most times, rarely getting involved or showing weakness.
He had started a business shortly after his short six month stay in Azkaban prison. He never talked about his time there, but he had come out a changed man. His business, a firm that made potions, had started modestly, but grew over a good three years to be one of the leading companies in the country. Perhaps when he was younger, before the war, he might have bragged about his success, now he didn’t seem to take any interest. He went to work each morning and came home every evening without having much to say.
Few people were surprised when he announced his engagement to Astoria Greengrass, a flamboyant flirt of a girl, a few years younger than him. She was, of course, a pureblood, and her family had a long lineage of Slytherin. It was an expected match. Malfoy’s last girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, had now gone and married his friend Mr. Goyle. It was clear, though, that there was no love between the two. Malfoy continued with his brooding, while his new bride spent the money and continued her flirting. They seemed to be attractive enough to each other for the new Mrs. Malfoy to become pregnant fairly quickly after the ceremony.
A few months later Mrs. Malfoy gave birth to a set of twins, a girl named Linnie and a boy named Orion.
Mr. Malfoy woke one morning at the same time he did every morning. He ate the same donut and drank the same coffee over his usual reading of the Daily Prophet business section before his wife woke, as usual to yell at the servants. He sat just as passively as normal while she ranted about the latest scandal.
“… she deserved that bite after her affair with that horrid muggle, if you ask me.”
“uhuh,” He grunted.
She didn’t even seem to mind that he never gave a proper response. She just kept going on about some other news. Like some woman’s daughter who was now pregnant at the age of sixteen due to some muggle boy. Mr. Malfoy showed no emotion as continued to read his paper.
Then, as usual, he excused himself to go shower, and get ready for work. He dressed himself in his usual black robes. None of his clothing had much color. No greens, reds, blues, or yellows much to his wife’s dismay.
He checked on his two children, both of whom were fast asleep, and then headed down to kiss his wife good-bye.
“Don’t forget,” she said as walked out the door, “we have that ministry function to go to tonight.”
“Yes, dear,” came the absent-minded reply. His mind was on work already. No doubt what ever she said was going to be repeated by his secretary.
He arrived at work, and just as he predicted, his plump secretary, Ms. Brown, reminded him of the function. It was for some awareness on some issue he no longer remembered. He went to most functions in part to be impartial to all issues and in part because his wife liked to be very social. Something he didn’t entirely approve of, but said nothing.
Work went by in a blur of papers, meetings, and reports of supposed new breakthroughs in potion formulas. He made his decisions slowly, taking his time to see all options before choosing the best one. He had become methodical, and his employees had come to accept it, although it occasionally frustrated them. That’s why he always had his own personal cook prepare his meals.
He came home after work. If he had been pleased by his day, his wife had no interest. She simply asked the question out of politeness. She talked about her latest shopping spree.
“There was this cute little outfit for Linnie I just had to get it. It was the prettiest shade of green.” For the first time that day, her husband’s eyes flashed in annoyance. She didn’t seem to notice his glance, and went right along talking about how cute the design was.
“Take it back,” he announced softly, not looking her in the eye.
She was taken aback. “Why, darling?” she tried as sweetly as she could, perhaps in the hope that he would change his mind.
“Because I said so,” he replied just as quietly, but there was a hint of anger that rarely flared in the Malfoy household.
“But, my dear,” she reasoned, “None of the children have any clothing that isn’t white, black, or in Linnie case pink. How would it look if your children never dressed appropriately when they grew up and began to represent you in the world?”
He lifted his intense gray eyes to his wife’s browns. “It will look like they do not affiliate with any house at Hogwarts. When they are sorted they can wear whatever they wish.”
She dropped the subject. Perhaps she sensed that it was useless to argue, but more than likely she just didn’t want to. She just wanted to go shopping. There was a cute guy at the counter.
Mr. Malfoy and his wife left, shortly after their discussion. Sensing his sensitivity to certain colors, she wore a white gown, that just so happened to show some cleavage.
Even when he got there, he couldn’t remember what the function was for. He must’ve gone to three this week alone. But he had to keep up appearances. He had to be fair to all. He couldn’t afford flaunt to one or the other with his large pocketbook. They would just say that he was reverting back to his old ways.
He didn’t recognize many people there, unless they were pointed out by his wife, or his assistant, who was standing nearby with a memorized guest list in her hands.
He did, however, recognize some very unfriendly faces. He tried to remain passive as Potter, Weasley, Weasley, and Granger passed by. It became too much for him, and he excused himself to go to the bar. Once there he ordered a fire whiskey, and drowned himself in a bottle. His wife had enough sense to leave him alone, and after a moment so did his assistant. She was paid by the hour anyway.
It didn’t take long before a reporter came up to him. She was pretty; long pale blonde hair and brilliant blue eyes, and legs that went on for miles. All of which were accented by her elegant blue dress.
“Hello, Draco Malfoy I presume,” she said, with a large brilliant smile.
“Should I know you?” He replied, his words had a slight slur to them.
She laughed, “Probably not. I’m not well known yet. I just started at <i>The Daily Prophet</i>.”
“Oh.” He didn’t sound too happy about that. He crawled back into his glass.
“If it helps I’m not asking for an interview. I’m just asking for a quote on the House-elves act.”
“Is that what this event is for?” he said, quietly to himself.
“He doesn’t seem to recall what the even is for…” she began scribbling.
“Don’t print that!” he exclaimed in alarm.
She giggled again. “Of course I’m going to run it. It’s my job to present the truth.”
“you… arg! I can’t think straight. “
“Well of course not!” she replied briskly, “You’ve been drinking heavily for the past hour.”
“I have not.” He checked his watch, then swore.
“None of the other reporters dared come over here. You were looking very dark and gloomy. In fact, you still look dark and gloomy.” She pulled a camera, out of her purse and took a picture of him glaring at her.
“If you’re worried about your coming off in a bad light, I wouldn’t. I’m just the gossip columnist. No one pays attention to me anyway, not with the Potter Weasley gang to read about.” She seemed to notice an even darker look on his face and took another picture.
“I didn’t catch yorname.”
“I didn’t give it.” He glared at her, and she laughed. “If you think you’re intimidating you should meet my boss.”
Shaking her head, she pulled out her wand, and tapped the camera with it. In seconds she frowned, and tapped it again.
“You know, it doesn’t look good, when a person is drinking alone.” He said, musingly.
“Is that right?” She said, distractedly, having been too busy trying to figure out her camera.
“Care to join me.” She looked up, surprised. Then, glanced at the clock and shrugged.
“I’m off in five minutes. Besides, nothing much is happening at this party anyway,”she replied, and promptly ordered a butterbeer.
The longer they stayed, the more they drank. And the more they drank, the less Draco remembered. He woke up the next morning, with a blasting headache that kept him in bed all day long. He vaguely remembered a girl, coming home, and vowing never to tell his wife something, but that was it.
Astoria had, of course, a fabulous time without him, never really seeing him until the next morning. She had danced with every single guy in the room, half of whom personally bought her a drink. She didn’t remember much.
So the two of them nursed head aches together.
