SLITHER IN! → S. MALFOY

ACT III, SCENE VII: INVITE ME

C H A P T E R  T H I R T Y - F O U R 

 ...FOR WHEN I WILL NO LONGER BE,

     YOU WILL CONTINUE MY LEGACY. 

                      YOU WILL BE THE ONE TO PURIFY OF

                                     TO PURGE THE WIZARDING UNIVERSE FROM

                                                                     THOSE WHO DO NOT BELONG.

          Scorpius Malfoy tore the letter into two equal halves and shoved them into the beak of a nearby owl in pitiless fury. Fury, for he could do nothing to avoid his father. Fury, for his destiny has been, long before his conscious entrance into the world, decided for him. Fury, for his only exit from the purgatory his father created was what he was told to become. 

    Death.

              "He's on something."

"Have you seen him? He looks like a skeleton, Gracie. "

          "That's— that's Malfoy?"

"I don't know, it makes him look kinda hot, like, gothic and all—"

Malfoy closed the door behind him, and strode gracefully past the freezing gazes of his Slytherin and Gryffindor classmates. The Potions Professor gave him a curt nod before returning back to the chalkboard. 

           He chose the seat in the middle. Star students never sat at the back. Besides, he knew his hair was always a subject for swooning and he was not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers.           

             Not today, though. Today, his hair was a fucking mess.

He didn't even notice the chair beside him move until somebody plopped down to the right.

             He could feel her perfume as if she was pressed against his chest. As if her hair was up in his face. He thought that he could probably scent her aroma miles away. Or in a crowd. Merlin, even his mind was a fucking mess...

             "Hi," she said, and Malfoy didn't respond. He stared at the desk before him. Fuck, he thought. He'd forgotten his fucking bag. 

    "Grumpy today, are we?" Her voice. Her voice was the most annoying and the most attractive thing about her. He wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. No, he wanted to kiss her neck first, before snapping it, snapping it like he'd snap his father's for that letter, that fu—

             A sharp intake of breath was enough for him to get a fresh dose of vanilla. 

He blinked.              

              The Professor was staring right at him. "My, Scorpius, are you alright, boy?"

At that moment, he felt her fingers trace over his wrist. His thoughts were sent spiralling. She was caressing his skin as if he deserved it... the audacity—

           He coughed. "Of course, Professor." Then, as the man turned back around, as well as half of the classroom, he lowered his voice to a shaking whisper, "Granger, you fucking tease."