A Match Made in Hell

Disclaimer: All but the original characters and scenarios are JK. Rowling's , although I do dearly wish Malfoy was mine.

...

Stop making the eyes at me,

I'll stop making the eyes at you.

What it is that surprises me,

Is that I don't really want you to.

'I Bet That You Look Good On The Dancefloor'- Arctic Monkeys

Chapter One - A Tasty Dish At Dinner

"Reckon you'll enter?" Albus turned to see his cousin Louis whispering in his ear with a crafty nudge. Keeping his eye trained on Headmistress McGonagall, Albus contemplated for a few seconds before answering.

"Nah," he murmured softly to the blonde, "It's too predictable. Dad was entered and won, I don't want everyone expecting me to do the same. James probably will though."

Both boys glanced sideways down the row to see that Albus' hypothesis was confirmed, if his brother's rapid muttering to Fred Weasley and avid look of anticipation was anything to go by.

"...any further questions can be put to myself or one of your professors. In the meantime, you have until October 10th to make up your mind. In light of the event's history, it certainly will not be life threatening - but I must warn you, it is not for the weak or faint hearted." With one last, sweeping glance of the room, Professor McGonagall retreated to her seat, and instantly an excited babble broke out.

"This is so cool!" enthused Liam Finnigan in his strong Irish accent, who was sat opposite Albus, his shock of blonde hair accentuating his excitement.

"An inter-house Triwizard tournament IS interesting.." agreed Rose Weasley thoughtfully from next to Louis. She frowned slightly at her plate.

"What, thinking of entering, Rosie?" grinned her younger brother Hugo cheekily. He knew fine well his sister would not dare to enter something so illogical.

"Certainly not!" Rose shot back, pursing her lips in disdain. "I was just wondering if this was wise, that's all. We all know what happened last time.." she added darkly.

Albus remembered all too clearly, after hearing many retellings of Cedric Diggory's death, and his father's bravery - told by his relatives of course, not his father.

"You heard wha muh-Goh-a-gall said," disagreed James thickly from further down the table, his mouth full of potatoes.

Pointedly ignoring Rose's stern look of horror at such table manners, which forcibly reminded everyone present of her mother, James swallowed and continued.

"It would be hard to even break a nail in this contest, the high levels of security and awareness." He rolled his eyes, as if he resented the faculty's concern for his safety.

"So I take it you won't be entering then?" asked Albus, smirking. He knew his brother would rather snap his own broomstick than not get a shot at being titled Champion, not that he would admit it.

He glanced up from his own potatoes to see he had again correctly predicted his brother's reaction.

"Well I probably will, just for the hell of it." conceded James, with a thinly veiled attempt to sound offhand, which fooled no one.

Chuckling, Albus looked around the Great Hall, observing the excited faces. He traded amused smiles with Lorcan and Lysander Lovegood on the Ravenclaw table. Knowing the quiet, studious twins, he imagined his childhood friends likely felt as unenthusiastic as he did.

His gaze drifted past them to the Slytherin table, where the faces were unmistakably gleeful. He shuddered to the think how competitive and brutal a Slytherin entrant would be, after experiencing such tactics on the Quidditch field.

Pausing only to wink at his sister Lily on the Slytherin table, he scanned the length of the house once more, unconsciously searching for one particular face.

He was unable to tell himself why he was so interested in the table, but he couldn't shake the feeling he was missing something.

Suddenly, a Hufflepuff shifted out of his line of vision, and his eyes clapped upon his natural born enemy.

The boy lounged so comfortably at the Slytherin table, unaware of the contempt fueled glare from the other side of the hall. Albus drank in the scene of his rival, the familiar face once more a fixture of his, after the two months of their separation. Scorpius Malfoy.

The blonde boy's head swivelled in his direction almost immediately, as if Albus had called his name. Albus breathed in suddenly, as their gazes met. Albus' eyes were narrowed in hate as they registered with the pale grey eyes filled with equal amounts of contempt and scorn.

If it had been anyone else, it would have been embarrassing to directly stare mutely at them for this long, but Malfoy and Albus had an unspoken agreement that the normal rules that society dictated did not apply to them.

Albus was aware of his friends asking him a question, but there was no way he would break the stare first. He continued to throw loathing looks of death at Malfoy, as his friends realised the reason for Albus' lack of communication.

They understood immediately; like every student and teacher in the school, they knew that Albus and Scorpius were bitter enemies, and beyond any help or change.

They had all watched the regular corridor fights between the pair as they grew up, in fact they formed many of Liam Finnigan's fondest memories.

It would take little to spark a fight, perhaps just a Malfoy sneer or a witty Potter insult, and like a stick of dynamite, the tempers would implode. Wands would be drawn, or sleeves would be rolled up. Either way, it always resulted in a thoroughly good show, as the two wrestled on the floor, with their hair and clothes dishevelled and multiple injuries. Madam Abbott, the school nurse, was well accustomed to a weekly visit from one or the other as a result.

On one memorable occasion, Headmistress McGonagall had informed them (through thin, white lips) that the pair were even worse than their fathers. With this fact in mind, the pair seemed hellbent on causing the other as much misery as possible.

This happened regularly, and if truth be told, Albus secretly enjoyed it. People and life at Hogwarts may change annually, but Scorpius and Albus' glares and fights had remained eternally unchanged, in an almost comforting fashion.

"It's almost weirdly intimate, how they stare at each other," giggled Rose, as she surveyed the pair with everyone else in the vicinity. The resulting titters and murmurs of agreement caused Albus' cheeks to burn red in irritation, as he fought the urge to look away and correct them. Seeing this, Malfoy smirked scornfully, and Albus finally dropped his gaze.

"Hell will freeze over when anything between Malfoy and I is intimate." he spat out, and stabbed a potato with his fork to relieve his irritation.

By the time Albus came to be staring at the familiar crimson bed hangings directly above him, he had changed his mind. The Triwizard Tournament was the perfect opportunity to prove himself in front of everyone, particularly Malfoy. Imagining the pale boy's look of fury as Albus lifted the Triwizard cup, he chuckled softly, and fell asleep.

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