FIC: (Mis)Sorted, PG-13, Scorpius Title: (Mis)Sorted Authors:gryffindorj and torino10154 Word Count: ~1100 Rating: PG-13 Character: Scorpius (implied slashiness) Disclaimer: Not ours. They belong to JKR. A/N: Unbeta'd. From an idea J had and we decided to write together for the first time in ages.
There was no password to gain entrance to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and Scorpius had always loathed that from the first time he had entered the house. He had heard many many tales of Hogwarts and knew every other house was guarded by some sort of password. When Scorpius had questioned this, using his most innocent first year voice, the Prefect had told him all were welcome to Hufflepuff and who were they to keep anyone else out.
Scorpius planned to change that. By his third year there was still no password system in place but change couldn't come all at once. As he started his fifth year, and sported a Prefect's badge, that was one of the first changes made. It was slightly infuriating that he needed the title of Prefect to get that done, but he'd found over the previous years that he usually didn't need any sort of title to get most of what he wanted done.
After a long day of classes, Scorpius stepped into the common room, smiling slightly to himself. He could feel the warm glow of accomplishment every time he used that password. Before Scorpius even thought of dropping his bag on the floor someone was at his elbow to relieve him of his burden. Not that his bag was too laden down with books, as one of his housemates met him after every class to take which ever items he no longer needed.
Scorpius then shrugged out of his robes letting them pool to the floor. There sounded as if there was a slight skirmish behind him as to who got to pick up the discarded item. Scorpius couldn't be bothered to turn around and find out for sure. No doubt his robes would be perfectly cleaned and pressed for him by morning. Muggle-borns were good for something; their laundry skill were even better than house-elves as far as he could tell.
He made his way towards his favorite armchair, which was always kept vacant just for him. As he sat down a sixth year appeared with an ottoman and another student, a fourth year perhaps, lifted Scorpius's long legs to rest on it before sitting at his feet. He liked the look of that one—excellent serving material—and made a note to find out who he was, assuming his arse was as fine as his manner. It was rare for Scorpius to go slumming among his own house, however he was known to make an exception from time to time.
Scorpius laid his head back and exhaled slowly, and thought of his father. Scorpius loved his father dearly and hoped he was proud of everything Scorpius had accomplished so far in his time at school.
"I want to send my father a letter," Scorpius said without changing his position. "Someone with good handwriting." Scorpius should have remembered the name of that bloke who wrote his letter to his father last time, but Scorpius never bothered to remember his housemates' names. It was enough to remember they existed, and more or less what year they were in.
Someone appeared at Scorpius's side, parchment and quill in hand ready to write whatever it was Scorpius dictated. Scorpius thought for a moment before he started, his housemates weren't all together gormless, he would have to use a minor amount of tact with what he said out loud.
I hope you are well.
Things are going even better, now that I am a prefect. As you predicted they would. The troubles I had earlier regarding the shine of my shoes are no longer. Shown the right enticement, that particular helper has improved greatly.
I've discussed my marks with the Arithmancy professor and he's quick on the uptake. I didn't even need to mention the information I had gathered earlier.
The house-elves have agreed to fortify the Quidditch team's meals with that endurance potion you created and they've had positive results in their practice sessions. Our first match against Gryffindor is Saturday if you'd like to come along and see the effects for yourself. It will be nice to wipe the grins off the faces of that lot of ginger-haired weasels.
Give my love to mother.
Your son, Scorpius
"Let me see that." Scorpius snapped his well-manicured fingers at his scribe. He took the letter and signed his name and then added a thoughtful postscript.
You were correct on one more account, it is good to be a prince among mere mortals.
Without even having to say it someone appeared with Pavo, Scorpius's owl, and took the letter and tied it to her leg.
Scorpius's throat felt dry from over use. He looked around for someone to bring him tea, but before he even said it three fresh pots were offered to him. He took the one from the mousy haired girl who knew that Darjeeling was Scorpius's favorite.
Scorpius took a small sip and laid his head back again. He thought fleetingly of his sorting so many years ago. The Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin the moment it touched his head but Slytherin insisted he could not be there. The hat had shouted Hufflepuff! Scorpius hadn't even bothered to be upset about it, he knew what he was to do. With his house full of loyal minions, he would soon be running the entire school. They were such good little workers. He could already feel and see his stock increasing among other houses.
The Ravenclaws knew he was clever, so he already had some acclaim from them for that. They also kept their noses in their books far too much, they didn't really see the way the school was trending. They would be caught up in the current before they had even realized what happened.
The Slytherins, well…they appreciated all he had accomplished, though they would never say it. His last name guaranteed him a sort of respect there and he had more than lived up to it.
The Gryffindors were quite an obvious lot. Most of what he needed from them could be accomplished with a stroke of a cock or a kiss while making the most earnest of faces. Heart on their sleeves, my arse, Scorpius thought, brains in their bits, is more like it.
Thinking of other houses, Scorpius mumbled, "Time?" and was quickly supplied with three different voices saying "Half-Past". Oh good, Scorpius didn't want to be too late for his appointment. He did hope that his Astronomy essay was done; he didn’t want to be bothered by sorting out such details tonight. He'd penciled in the Head Boy to give him a blowjob. While he wasn't so crude as to tell his father all the details, he knew his father would love to hear how the eldest Potter-Weasley mutt was eager to suck his son's cock.