DISCLAIMER: If you recognize it, it belongs to JKR

Written for Addicted-To-Sugar-Quill's watching and wishing challenge on HPFC

Prompt: Mocking

He turned away in disgust as Al Potter-bloody Al Potter, of all people-started feeding her grapes at the Gryffindor table. She was curled up against his shoulder, her long dark hair spilling freely over both of them, giggling, as he presented her pieces of fruit and kissed her fingertips with each morsel.

Vanessa Selwyn had never giggled around Scorpius. In the Slytherin common room, she was known for her wry smiles and sarcastically humorous conversation. For her skill at Transfiguration and duelling, and her house spirit. She was part of the group that had set silver and green fireworks to go off under the Gryffindor stand two years back during their first victory of the year. As Harper's fingers closed around the snitch, Al Potter, the new Gryffindor seeker had been half-way across the pitch, and had had to roll on his broom to avoid a serpentine sparkler. She was Head Girl, the first from Slytherin in over a decade. She was the captain of the Duelling Club, and regularly drubbed any boy who argued with the appointment, her sky blue eyes dancing with delight.

Just last week she had sat up in the common room with him, helping him with a particularly nasty Transfiguration problem. She had smiled at him, and told him how much she enjoyed watching him Keep for Slytherin. Then she had started talking about the Valentine's day Hogsmeade trip, and how she didn't have anyone to go with yet. Scorpius had almost worked up the courage to ask her when she left for bed. Two days later he tracked her down on the way out, to see her on his arm. Albus Potter, the scrawny specky git who had just now overtaken Donovan Harper as the top seeker in the school. Son of the great Harry Potter, brother of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, otherwise just an average student, not even a prefect. Not responsible enough, unlike Scorpius who had spent most of the weekly prefect meeting definitely not staring at her cloak-pin.

They had stopped under her umbrella charm to kiss, a disgusting spectacle by any measure. Potter wasn't even seventeen yet, and he was shorter than her too. They would have stayed at it too, except for his younger sister Lily and her friends pelting them with snowballs.

Their laughter rang out across the great hall again, mocking Scorpius and their entire house. A fourteen-generation pure-blood Slytherin sitting at the Gryffindor table with bloody Al Potter, giggling as he tickled and pampered her. Gritting his teeth, Scorpius forced himself to leave his barely touched lasagne as he raced to the boy's bathroom. He could already feel the telltale trickles of wetness on his cheeks, and charmed them away before anyone else could see. She deserved someone better. Someone who saw her as an idol, a model of perfection, who actually loved her, not some stupid Gryffindor who thought looking like his father deserved hero worship.

Scorpius didn't remember lashing out at his red-eyed reflection. He didn't register the trickle of blood seeping from his glass-cut fingers and face, or the aching throb of broken bones. All he remembered was curling up in a ball on the damp stone floor, shoulders heaving until someone else walked in. He remembered them hauling him upright and offering him a handkerchief to clean the blood and glass flecks from his eyes while helping him to the Hospital Wing. He remembered Madam Pomfrey charming his eyes clean, and he remembered facing the smug half-smirk of bloody Albus Potter as he asked if he was all right.

It was going to be some time before the answer was yes.