Chapter Text
Her hands clasp Scorpius’s hips from behind, and he can't help a little shiver. He spins to face her, grinning.
"Chapman. Sneak up on a guy like that and you're going to get yourself hexed."
"No one else would dare. I like my chances." She shifts her weight, leaning on one leg and cocking her hip. It's a challenge, but one she neither expects nor wants to win. She's predictable, satisfying, familiar.
He tips her chin up. "Twice the reason to do it, then."
This, normally, is where she would blush and look down, where Scorpius would give her a practiced smirk and summarily end the exchange, on his terms. But her eyes are sizzling on his and he thinks if he weren't so used to holding his ground under pressure he might actually squirm.
He reaches down to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. "Cute," he breathes.
She arches her neck with his fingers. The skin looks taut, and delicate as silk. He imagines piercing it with his teeth. "Me? Not likely."
"I don't know. Even in Dark Arts lessons you're always checking to see if I'm watching. I think you're pretty cute."
"Pretty, cute?"
“Yes." Both of them smile.
It's true, about Polly, but what he omits is that he always is watching. There's something about the way she fights that's almost wanton, an unrefined quality that draws him to her. He had only ever known cruelty to be cold, until her.
"Well, now that I've got that out of you, I actually had a message for you from the headmistress."
Scorpius groans. "No rest for the wicked. What does she want?"
"Wouldn't say. Top secret, very important, probably will be bloody so change. I like those robes on you."
"I think you'd like them better with a little blood on them," he points out absently, taking out his watch. "How much time do I have?"
"Half an hour when she sent me, so...oh, shit."
He snaps the watch shut and glares at her. "So I'm already late."
"Hey, you can do no wrong with her, Scorpion King.”
He can take the name seriously. Mostly.
“Better hope I cover for you, then.” He winks.
That stops her in her tracks. “Scorpius, you’d better not—”
He puts a finger to her lips, and now, now he’s smirking. “We’ll see.”
Trailed by her outrage, he saunters out of the common room. It’s good to be king.
“You wanted to see me, Headmistress?”
He drapes himself languidly in the doorframe, then freezes, suddenly winded by shock as though he’s been hit in the stomach, bent double by something heavy and unrelenting.
His training takes a moment to recover itself, but he drops to his knees as suddenly as if he’s been knocked onto them. Distantly, he thinks it must look almost comical.
“Young Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure.”
Scorpius keeps his eyes on the floor, head down, voice even. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done.
“It’s an immeasurable honor, Augurey.”
She laughs, bright and clear. “I know. You may stand.”
He obeys, still looking determinedly at his feet until a hand brushes his skin. Slowly, he looks up.
She’s magnificent. Queenly in her bearing, quiet wisdom flickering behind her eyes, a true Oracle. Scorpius is struck suddenly by a sense of smallness, an instinct to submit. He thinks she really must have been chosen by the gods, whoever they are.
“Impressive,” she says, “very impressive.”
His heart leaps.
“You were right about him, Dolores.” The Augurey turns to her, giving him a long and knowing look he doesn’t quite understand out of the sides of her eyes. “He’ll do perfectly.”
Umbridge simpers, and for the first time, when Scorpius looks back at her every shred of fear he might have had has dissolved into contempt.
“What…what is it you desire, my Lady?” he croaks, his throat so dry that the words catch.
When she looks in his eyes, it’s an excruciating glory. He thinks of Phaethon, of Icarus.
“A Chosen One.”