Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Seventeen

Scorpius steps forward, and his voice rings out clearly across the room. "I ask to speak on behalf of the Wallygagglers of North Moor."

Though the court has already agreed to see him, Draco still finds himself a quivering knot of tension until a witch says, "The Wizengamot honours this request. Will you please state your case?"

As Scorpius begins to explain, Potter twitches in his seat beside Draco.

"Would you relax, for Merlin's sake? No one's going to recognise you."

Potter sighs, but, forcibly, he stops his leg from jiggling. He's used Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as that Heffley fellow again, but he's clearly still worried he's going to be mobbed by rabid fans.

Lavender giggles on Draco's other side. They're the only two that came with him today, due to a combination of work responsibilities and prior commitments.

"Where'd you find this bloke, anyway?" Draco asks. "Aren't you worried someone will recognise him?"

"Nah, I use him all the time. I've nearly always got a bottle on me. He's a cousin of Fleur Delacour — Bill assured me no one will recognise him outside of France."

"She was the Veela, wasn't she?"

"What, can't you tell I've got Veela DNA now? Aren't I devastatingly handsome?"

Draco snorts. "I liked you better before."

He doesn't realise what he's said until he notices Potter's eye staring sideways at him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Potter says with an innocent smile.

"Don't. I didn't mean—"

Lavender starts laughing again, barely stifling it behind her hand.

"Oh, shut it, you."

"That's not how you should talk to someone doing you favours," she points out.

"Fine. Thank you for your services, and shut the hell up," he mutters.

She kicks him lightly with the heel of her boot. "Didn't do it for you, Malfoy; it's my job. Prick. I can't believe I devoted my entire career to this, and it's you and your son who discover a new magical species."

He snorts, but then he notices that the crowd has grown angry, everyone speaking over each other in their rush to protest, and he starts paying attention again.

"Order," the head witch commands. "Mr Malfoy, you may continue."

"We can't keep polluting the North Moor like this," Scorpius says. "It's uninhabitable. They risk hexes, jinxes, and curses every time they go for a drink. Not to mention that their natural food sources have diminished. It's not just them, either. A nearby werewolf pack has been affected too."

"If the situation is so bad, why haven't they left the area?" a wizard from the panel asks.

"Wallygagglers come from the magical variety of thunderegg rock. They make pods wherever these rocks form, and they stay in the same area for generations unless wizards move them. They can't travel more than one hundred metres or so from their resting place without being pulled back. Not to mention that it isn't their fault we've messed the moor up."

"That'll be enough for now, Mr Malfoy," the witch says. "Thank you. We'll discuss your official proposal, which we have here," she holds up a sheaf of parchment, "at the next opportunity. In the meantime—"

"But I haven't given you all the information! They want to meet with Ministry officials personally to argue their case. They want you to go to the moor and see the situation for yourselves."