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Chapter 1: Honeydukes
My mother once told me that there’s a very fine line between love and hate. At the time, I was only thirteen and disregarded her words. They had meant nothing to me.
I had come home pretty angry after my second year of Hogwarts. In fact, I was seething. Rose Weasley, of all people, had humiliated me. Nobody humiliated Scorpius Malfoy and got away with it, I made sure of that. But, for some reason, I couldn’t stop Rose. She knew exactly how to get on my nerves.
I will admit I’m not completely innocent, in this case, or in any other case regarding Rose. We’d hated each other from day one, when we met on the Hogwarts Express. My hatred wasn’t unguided – I knew from my father not to mix with ‘mudbloods’ and ‘blood traitors’. The Weasleys definitely came under the category of blood traitors. So, like the good little boy I was, I did as my father told me. I can see now how naïve I was.
My father and his pure-blood mania. How I revered it, and how I hate it. We might be alike in our looks, but we couldn’t be more different inside. Now, I couldn’t care less about being a pure-blood, or what my friends are. You would have thought my father would have been less prejudiced after the war, but I suppose some leopards never change their spots. He was resentful that he had been saved by the very people he had sworn to hate. I suppose that’s one thing we have in common. Father thinks pure-bloods are as good as royalty, the best of the best.
My mother, fortunately, did not enforce these beliefs. She never openly spoke against them, for fear of provoking my father, but I think she knew it was wrong. She understands me much better than father does. How they ended up married I’ll never know.
The summer after Rose humiliated me, my mother understood me better than I did. My father was furious when he heard what happened, and spent the rest of the summer insulting her and her family. I joined in. And what had Rose done to deserve this? She decided to challenge a Malfoy. She was the only person to stand up to me, and fight back. Rose never started fights, but once she was involved she would fight until the bitter end.
So you must be wondering how Rose humiliated me. I had stolen something of hers before a transfiguration lesson, when her back was turned. I cant even remember what it was that I took, now. I passed it around the class so she wouldn’t know it was me. Childish, I know. When she discovered it was missing she instantly suspected me, and pinned me magically to the wall, her wand at my throat. And the worst bit was that I was powerless. That’s right; Draco Malfoy’s son was powerless against a girl. And the daughter of a blood traitor, no less. I thought I would die of shame. Had the professor not walked in at that moment, I don’t know what would have happened. The whole class had laughed at me, and I had to put up with the Slytherins mocking me for weeks afterwards. I still cringe at the memory.
After that I was determined to hate Rose even more. I looked for opportunities to mock her, or insult her. And it was easy. The insults flowed off my tongue like I was spouting poetry. I would mock her heritage and her intelligence, or mimic her tone of voice. If she made a mistake, I wouldn’t let her forget it. She was dirt beneath my feet.
And still, I practiced the beliefs my father fed me, oblivious of how it was damaging me. The world belonged to the pure-bloods, I thought, and I had no time for the other scum. I was my father’s son, through and through.
It was Rose who saved me. Without her, I would have turned into my father; bitter, and twisted. We were in our Fifth year, and it was shortly after Rose’s sixteenth birthday. We had been put into detention by Professor Longbottom, the Herbology professor. I had called him a ‘filthy blood traitor’, and Rose had hexed me. The detention had been arranged for the Saturday evening after, and I was furious that I had to serve detention with Rose.
I met her in the Entrance Hall, as arranged, and we set off in the semi-darkness to the greenhouses.
“I hope you’re pleased with yourself, Malfoy.” Rose’s blue eyes glinted in the moonlight. Everything about her irritated me, from her chestnut hair to the hem of her cloak.
“I didn’t ask you to hex me. You did that all by yourself,” I smirked, my brown eyes sparkling.
“Of course I did it by myself. I don’t need to be told what to do, or what to believe,” she added pointedly. I stopped smirking.
“Well, I didn’t expect someone of your parentage to hex so adequately,” I said smoothly.
“Do you actually believe that, or is it something your father told you to say?” Rose said acidly.
I laughed hollowly, shaking my fair hair out of my eyes as I did so. Somewhere in the distance, and owl hooted dolefully. “Where did you get that comeback from? I don’t suppose you could afford to buy it.”
Rose shook her head slightly, and smiled. “Is that all you’ve got?”
I stopped in my tracks, and frowned at her. “What?”
“Well, it’s not a very original insult, is it? I suppose that’s one of your father’s as well?” Rose turned away from me, and carried on walking.
“My father doesn’t own me!” I shouted after her, causing the owl to squawk and take flight, showing it’s silhouette in front of the moon. I furiously strode on.
“Really?” Rose looked back as I caught up with her. “Because you make a very good job of hiding it.”
“What would you know about me?” I growled, and overtook her. I turned my head and shouted back, “You think you know everything, Weasley, don’t you? But you’re just an interfering– ”
“Fine, Malfoy,” said Rose from behind me. “Act like you don’t care that your father’s using you. Why don’t you just think for yourself for once.”
Later, I had to admit that Rose was right. My father was just using me as a voice for his beliefs. But without those beliefs, I was nobody, I had nothing. I didn’t know who I was. I was angry that of all people, Rose Weasley had made me question my morals. She was nothing but a good for nothing blood traitor, and a swine. What was more worrying was why Rose had been able to get under my skin so easily. For I had thought about that night for weeks, trying to work out what I thought. I hated her for tearing the delusion down.
Why did Rose always have to be right? She was such a know it all! And she felt she had the right to tell me what I did and didn’t believe. In the end, my hatred for Rose grew so unbearable that I did something unforgivable; I fell in love with her.
I had sworn never to fall in love with anyone. I believed those who loved were weak, just like my father. He loved his pure-blood status, and so he was weak and narrow-minded. At the age of thirteen I had thought I’d never fall in love at all; Scorpius Malfoy was a lone operator.
I was fifteen when I first saw Rose cry, and it awoke feelings in me I never knew existed. I wanted to punish those who were hurting her, and protect her from harm. I couldn’t understand it; it made no sense. Why would I want to stop Rose crying, when I had sworn to loathe her for ever?
A bunch of Slytherins had been jinxing Rose and her younger brother, Hugo. I had walked in on them after Potions one evening. Rose had been standing in front of Hugo with her wand drawn, and tears pouring down her cheeks. I had never seen her so… vulnerable. Anger had bubble up inside me, and I grabbed them both and marched them from the room.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?” Rose hissed, furiously brushing her tears aside.
“I’m getting you out of here,” I muttered in reply. Rose tugged her arm out of my grip.
“I didn’t need your help. I had it under control.” Rose wouldn’t look me in the eyes, and I felt so ashamed. I knew what she was thinking, what she was remembering. It would normally have been me hurting her, and now I couldn’t find the words to express it. “Why weren’t you joining in? You don’t usually restrain yourself.”
Now Rose looked into my eyes, and I felt I was drowning in the blue of hers. “I’m thinking for myself.”
It was as though I had won a battle within me that I never knew I was fighting. And, just like that, I realised how wrong I had been, and how wrong my father was. Rose noticed the change in me; unfortunately, so did my peers.
“What’s the matter with you Scorpius?” they asked me over and over again. Word travels fast around Hogwarts, and I should have known it would only be a matter of time until my father found out. Most of my friends’ parents knew my father.
The week after, I received my first ever howler. Everyone in the Great Hall heard my father calling me a ‘blood traitor’, and forbidding me to talk to such scum, ‘or else’. I caught Rose’s eyes on the other side of the Great Hall, and knew what I must do. I ignored my father. He was at home, I was at Hogwarts. What could he do? If only I had listened to him…
But somewhere inside me was a fire, a fire that burned for Rose. She made me feel that I was worth something, that I had a purpose. After I helped her, we would share smiles when we saw each other in the corridors, or in lessons. How I lived each day for those smiles. It transformed her face, and the smile seemed to cause the sun to shine even on the rainiest days. And on the days when I thought I couldn’t carry on, I just had to think of that smile and it made it all seem worthwhile. I did not care anymore whether my peers respected me, and I didn’t give a damn what they called me behind my back. So what did I care if I was a blood traitor? As long as I had Rose, nothing else mattered.
Eventually, I grew tired of being isolated every night in the common room, constantly being stared at, or whispered about. I started spending more time in the library. Stupid, isn’t it? I didn’t ever use the library, but now it became my haven, where I escaped to. No Slytherin ever went to the library; we already knew all the answers.
Rose was a regular at the library, so it was only a matter of time before she noticed me. And, believe it or not, she took pity on me. That’s right. A blood traitor took pity on a pure-blood. How ironic. My grades slowly improved, for Rose sat with me more and more, and with her friends less and less. We’d sit in the library until the librarian threw us out. It was during those precious hours that I learnt more about Rose. We used to argue and debate about anything.
“Now that was stupid,” I said once after reading up on my History of Magic homework. I was writing an essay on goblin rebellions.
“Goblins aren’t stupid, Scorpius.” Rose rolled her eyes.
“Well,” I said slowly, “I think even I could have told you that if you plan to assassinate the Minister for Magic, it’s going to get you into trouble.”
“That was the idea, you moron.” Rose sighed, and returned to her Charms essay. She had completed the goblin essay some days ago.
“That proves it,” I said more forcefully, “If the idea was to get punished -”
Rose laughed and laid her hand on mine, sending tingles shooting up my arm. “ The idea was to attract attention.” She shook her head. “You know, sometimes I get the impression you live on another planet.”
“You’re just jealous,” I said tetchily.
Rose’s eyes narrowed in the manner I was so familiar with. “Is that so?”
“Ignorance is… what’s the word?” I asked sweetly.
“Annoying?” Rose grinned.
“Bliss,” I said petulantly, irritated at being teased. Rose was extremely good at teasing me. She knew which buttons to press and where to find them. I suppose it shows how different I had become. Before, nobody ever teased me; they didn’t dare.
It was odd that I found her company so easy. With my other friends conversation was forced and unnatural.
“There’s a Hogsmeade trip next weekend,” Rose said tentatively, tugging my goblin essay out of my hand.
“So? You know I’m not going.” I watched her correct my essay. She noticed I was watching her, and looked up.
“I know you don’t usually go,” Rose said, sucking the end of her quill thoughtfully, “but I thought it was time you got out of the castle. Change the scenery a bit.”
I registered her concern, as usual, however Rose had never understood my reluctance to go into Hogsmeade.
“I’m not going on my own, Rose,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m not that desperate.”
“I can’t go with you. It’s Albus’s birthday,” she replied, detecting my hint.
For some reason, any mention of the Potters awoke those old feelings. I was jealous that anyone else should occupy Rose’s time than me. I knew Rose pitied me as I didn’t have any other friends, and I knew she felt guilty because I had left everything behind when we became friends. But I didn’t blame her; I blamed myself. Besides, she was worth a hundred of my ‘friends’.
The last Hogsmeade trip before our O.W.L examinations was our first trip together, and our first kiss. I still remember that moment as though it was yesterday.
We’d been to Honeydukes to try their latest products, and for once I had not cares in the world. None of my peers looked twice at me. The shop was full to the brim, so I wasn’t easily spotted in the fray; I could hardly move. The air was thick with the sweet scent of caramel and sugar, as well as something slightly fruity. I kept brushing past people, and stepping on their toes. Students shrieked with excitement and innocence, their emotions identical no matter which house they were in, or what their blood was. We were all equals in that moment.
I looked around to find Rose, but she was standing behind me with a mischievous look in her eyes, and that familiar grin; teeth slightly apart, and a dimple on her right cheek. Instinctively, I traced the dimple with my finger, removing my arm from the squash. We were only a few inches apart, but as someone bumped into me, we were suddenly a lot closer. There was a moment when our eyes met, brown on blue, blue on brown, before our lips touched. After that, my senses were numb except from where Rose and I were connected. Everything about her was intensified tenfold, and I was aware of her every move; her leg against mine, my hand on her smooth cheek, her tongue on my lips. She tasted sweeter than the treacle I had been testing minutes before. Our tongues danced a fiery salsa. She was ice cold and scalding all at once; it was exhilarating.
I knew at that moment exactly what my mother had meant about love and hate; the line between them was extremely thin, and I had succeeded in crossing it. After all, they were both very strong emotions, and it heightened the passion between us.
My father was surprised, but delighted when I got my O.W.L results. He had not expected me to do nearly as well as I did. I got six! And even two Exceeds Expectations. I had Rose to thank for these miraculous grades, but my father didn’t need to know that. In fact, he thought I hadn’t seen Rose since his howler. Although it was fresh in my memory, I had forgotten how powerful my father could be; after all, he used to be a Death Eater. I know I was careless. I wrote to Rose as often as possible, but I suppose I should have been more careful. My father noticed how much time I spent in my room, and how there were more owls than usual delivering messages to me. When he questioned me, I told him it was just a friend. I was naïve enough to think he believed me. But I don’t think even he suspected the truth, and struggled to believe it when he found out.
“Tell me this isn’t true,” my father was pacing back and forth in front of the granite fireplace in our living room, waving a folded letter in front of him. A letter I hadn’t read yet, but I was sure it was from Rose.
“What’s not true?” I was trying to use my most innocent voice, but instead sounded like a strangled vulture. I wasn’t fooling anyone. I settled, instead, with looking out into the dark street outside our house in Kent. It was a very old house; it used to belong to my mother’s grandfather, or something of the sort. The wallpaper didn’t appear to have been changed in at least fifty years, and it bore the marks of time. It was, as Rose would have said, dingy.
“Don’t piss about with me, Scorpius,” my father sneered, bringing me out of my reverie. I was just about the same height as him now, and I could see his bald patch on the top of his head; it was slowly turning red to match his face. His eyes were narrowed dangerously. He barely raised his voice. “I want to know the truth!”
“The truth? The truth is that I don’t want anything to do with you or your stupid beliefs.” I was deliberately trying to provoke him. I had never had the chance to say what I felt deep down. I was looking for a way to express my disgust. Strangely enough, I felt calm.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you understand? I don’t want anymore to do with your stupid beliefs. Rose has shown me that we’re all the same. Rose and I are equals.” I said forcefully.
“Don’t be naïve, Scorpius. Do you have any idea how privileged you are to be a pure-blood?” He raised his clenched fist so I could see the veins on his arm, beneath his Dark Mark. “This blood is becoming more and more rare, and one day you’ll be very glad you aren’t like the rest of the scum.”
I crossed my arms, and shook my head angrily. “I don’t care about how pure my blood is. It doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”
“I didn’t bring you up to behave like this!” My father’s voice was getting louder now, but I wanted to make him angry, I wanted him to understand how frustrated I was.
“I don’t care,” I said through gritted teeth.
My father watched me evenly for a moment, then muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe im hearing this..
I drew a breath, and breathed out slowly. “Why is Rose any different to us?”
“She’s a blood traitor.”
“She the best thing that’s happened to me,” I said tightly.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” My father shook his head disbelievingly. “You’re a Malfoy.”
“So, Malfoys and Weasleys don’t mix,” he shouted, banging his fist on the mantelpiece.
“I don’t want to be a Malfoy! Why can’t I just be me?” I said quietly.
“If that’s how you feel, then we have nothing more to say to each other.” Finally, I thought. I was about to leave the room, when my father stopped me. “Stay away from Rose Weasley, if you know what’s good for you.” I laughed. I couldn’t believe he didn’t get it. Why didn’t he understand that I didn’t care anymore? There was nothing he could do. “I mean it, Scorpius. Be very careful.”
I shook my head, and left the room.
Again, I ignored him. There was nothing that would keep me away from Rose. My father was just an old man, with narrow-minded views. I was young, and had the world at my feet. I suppose my father had visions of me marrying a perfect pure-blood, someone he had handpicked for me. We would have gone on to have a large, pure-blood family.
When I returned to school in September, Rose and I were as close as ever, and by Christmas it was no longer a secret that we were together. And I didn’t care. I was proud that they all could see how happy I was with her. She was my world. I never told her about the conversations with my father, convincing her that her letters must have been lost on the way to me. I didn’t want to worry her, as I couldn’t bare to cause her pain. She was like something fragile that I needed to stop from breaking. And I’d do anything to see her smile; the dimple in her cheek was irresistible. And, after her seventeenth birthday, I sent her a yellow rose every month to count each month that went past; seventeen and one month, seventeen and two months, seventeen and three months… By her eighteenth birthday I still hadn’t run out of things to write on the tags. Why a yellow rose? My mother told me that yellow symbolises friendship and eternity. I hoped to be sending Rose yellow roses for a long time…
Winter was Rose’s favourite season, so it was only fitting that I proposed to her on Christmas day. Out of all my memories, that’s the one I’d use to cast a Patronus.
I’ll paint you a picture of a perfect white Christmas. The grounds around the castle were slightly pink, the snow pure and untouched. For how long, I wasn’t sure, as it was first thing in the morning, and I doubted anyone would be up yet. The lake was frosted over, and probably would have held my weight had I cared to test it.
I was sitting on the icy front steps outside the Entrance Hall. I watched my breath form in front of me as I watched the sun rise. I was the only living thing in sight, and it was humbling. Unlike any other Christmas day I’d had before, I was both nervous and excited at the same time; today was the day I was going to propose to Rose. I’d bought the ring a few months before, but I was still wondering if this was the right time…
There was no doubt in my mind that Rose was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. However, there was still a small doubt niggling at the back of my mind; were we too young? And there was always the chance that she refused… I was pleased with the ring. It was made of rose gold and a small dark blue topaz. The muggle jeweller I bought it from told me that a topaz symbolises beauty and intelligence; both things that I love about Rose.
My father once showed me my grandmother’s ring, which he told me I could give to my fiancé… it was covered in emeralds and diamonds. Far too fussy for Rose! And it was steeped in the family history I so badly wanted to get away from.
I think I was ready for marriage – I would have given everything for Rose, and had already turned my back on my father. I wanted her so badly! Did I deserve her… probably not.
When the pink glow on the snow was finally replaced with a blinding whiteness, I returned to the castle for breakfast. I felt refreshed, and brimming with hope.
I met Rose in the library after breakfast. It was the only place that was neutral for us. She didn’t notice how nervous I was when we exchanged presents. She’s bought me a beautiful watch; it was gold and silver, with mother of pearl dials behind the gold hands. I still have it today.
I’ll never forget the look on Rose’s face when she opened her present. Her eyes sparkled, and the were exactly the same colour as the stone in the ring. We looked at each other and grinned.
“Be mine, Rose?” I said as I stroked the dimple in her cheek.
“Always,” she replied, kissing my fingers.
I lifted the ring out of it’s box, and slid it onto her finger. The rose gold seemed to glow next to her pale skin. It looked glorious.
On our two year anniversary I took Rose into Hogsmeade again. The sun was shining down on everything, making the small village seem twice as beautiful. The high street was bustling with residents and pupils alike. It was as if everyone had taken advantage of the gorgeous summers day. We were just heading back to the castle when Rose stopped me.
“We haven’t been to Honeydukes!” she said mischievously. I grinned along with her, and we entered the sweet shop hand in hand.
If I had a timeturner, that would be the moment I’d return to. Not because it was a perfect moment; far from it. I would go back and scream at the top of my voice, turn back. I’d physically stop us from entering the shop. Go back! For although it all started in Honeydukes, that’s where it all ended. That’s where my world ended, too.
It was just as busy as the first time we went there together two years before. The shop smelled sickly sweet, and it was incredibly stuffy. You learn to expect the unexpected when you go to Hogwarts, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened next…
It was as if somebody had suddenly shoved a pair of earmuffs over my ears; the whole shop went quiet except for the tinkle of the bell above the door as it opened. In stumbled a balding man, whose odour spread across the room, covering the smell of treacle and sugar. He stank of firewhisky and moon-rum. The man was my father.
I still hadn’t let go of Rose’s hand, and I felt her grip tighten when she saw who it was, the ring biting into my palm. I stroked her hand gently with my thumb.
People started to back away from my father as he started to curse at a tin of Bowtruckle Biscuits. It would have been comical had it been anyone else’s father.
“Where’s Scorpius?” he growled at the tin, and shook it madly, causing biscuits to fly everywhere. When they hit the ground, the oval shaped cookies sprouted legs and scuttled under the nearest shelf.
A buzzing began to fill the room, a sound not unlike a load of dizzy flies. And, heads started to turn and stare at me as I stood shell-shocked in the middle of the crowd. When he turned towards me, I could see his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was plastered to his face with sweat. I felt Rose move closer to me.
“You!” he pointed a grubby finger at me. I couldn’t move, even though every cell in my body was telling me to get away from him. Father’s eyes in and out of focus, and then found Rose.
“You!” he said again, but louder this time. I stepped in front of Rose as she started quivering. He laughed maniacally. “Are you scared, little girl? Are you scared of me, blood-traitor?” he spat at the floor, and the crowd gasped. I seemed to find courage as my anger rose.
“Leave her out of it,” I said in a low voice, drawing my wand.
My father laughed again. “Going to duel me, Scorpy?”
“No,” I said evenly. “You’re not worth the effort.” I saw the grin fade slightly of his face.
“Are you scared too, like your girlfriend?” he sneered.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I said with satisfaction.
“What? Don’t lie to me, Scorpius,” he said, raising his wand. I felt the whole room hold its breath.
I don’t know what made me say what I did next…. I suppose I wanted to hurt him.
“She’s my fiancé,” I said slowly and deliberately. I heard Rose groan beside me.
“What?” Father croaked disbelievingly. He lowered his wand slightly.
“We’re getting married!” I held Rose’s hand up so he could see the ring, which glittered innocently in the sunlight.
Rose snatched back her hand, begged, “Scorpius, no.”
“This isn’t happening?” he said quietly, and raised his wand, saying more forcefully, “This isn’t happening! I wont have you besmirch the Malfoy blood line!” he was out of his mind with drink and rage. I looked at Rose, and she looked as if she had been smacked in the face. She drew her wand.
“I can’t think what you mean, Mr Malfoy,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes ablaze.
“Don’t talk to me, scum,” he said with a drunken smirk.
Again, the crowd gasped, and I wished that they’d mind their own business for once. I saw out of the corner of my eye that the shopkeeper was trying to make his way through the crowd, but was failing miserably; the crowd was staring avidly at us.
“That’s enough!” I said sharply, stepping in front of Rose again. “I told you to leave her out of it.”
Father smiled again in his deranged way. “I warned you, Scorpius.”
“It’s none of your business,” I said forcefully.
“I wont have you fouling the Malfoy blood.”
“What does it matter to you who I marry?” I asked with a frown on my face.
“It means everything!” he raised his wand to shoulder height and aimed at me. The force of his curse sent those behind me falling backwards, as I fell in agony. They looked on in horror as I writhed on the floor, wanting the pain to be over. Rose was kneeling beside me with a look of such loathing on her face that I had never seen before.
“Stupefy!” she yelled, but I heard no thump of a body, and I knew she had missed.
“Don’t you come near me, you filthy half-blood!” he screeched, and his voice echoed off the walls.
“Stop it!” I said shakily, as I stood up. Father turned his wand on me and I saw the hatred in his eyes; I thought that was the end…
Instead of cursing me, he smirked.
His gaze slid from me to Rose.
Then, he muttered those fatal words.
I saw the green flash leave his wand as if in slow motion.
I caught Rose’s eyes.
I saw them widen in shock.
I saw the last breath leave her body.
And after that, I knew nothing but pain.
The Ministry caught Father as I chased him through Hogsmeade. The use of an Unforgivable Curse lands you a lifetime in Azkaban, and that’s exactly what he got…
Even after a year, I still blame myself. I should be the one locked in a cell. If I hadn’t been foolish enough to love Rose… if only I had listened to my father.. I was naïve enough to believe that times had changed.
I return here once a month. Strangely enough, the graveyard is a very tranquill place. The only movement is the wind blowing through the trees, and occasionally a sparrow perching in a bush, watching the world go by. Generations of people, wizards and muggles alike, lie as if asleep, unaware of the troubled of the world above. I suppose that’s the beauty of death; all the pain is at an end.
Well, my visit is over for another month. Another dreary, lonely month. Somewhere, Rose lives on forever, as she does in my heart. All that’s left for me to do now is leave a yellow rose, and say sorry.