Chapter 1 : Waking Up To Lace
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Waking Up To Lace
Rose awoke with a start.
The bright morning sunlight shone through the small window next to Rose’s bed and into her face, momentarily blinding her. She shifted to the other side of her bed so she could let her eyes adjust. She stretched with a wide-mouth yawn before something hit her face. Something lacy.
Welcome to my life.
“Dom! How dare you throw my bra around!” Lucy shouted before jumping up on Rose’s bed to retrieve it.
“Well don’t leave it lying on my bed then!” Dom shouted back with a grin.
Lucy then promptly pulled the pillow from under Rose’s head and leapt over to Dom and began hitting her with it. Dom soon had grabbed a pillow as well and it had become a full-fledged pillow fight. Rose took a moment to hide under the covers and groan. There was never any sleeping in. Soon she heard Amanda’s cries and muffled ‘ooh’s join in too.
She imagined getting up, pulling out her wand, petrificus totalusing their bums off, and then climbing back into bed with a contented sigh as her friends lay, their faces frozen in horror as they stared at the cieling. But no.
“Rosie! Better get up or we’ll call Peeves up here to do it for us!” Amanda teased.
Just leave me alone…. she cursed in her head.
Rose threw the covers off of her self and made a dangerous route down the stairs to the bathroom, her arms covering her head. Too early to talk. She usually didn’t speak for maybe a half an hour after she woke up; she was too tired, groggy, and needed her coffee. She quickly closed the door behind her when she saw she was alone and turned the shower on.
It took a moment to get warm and while she was waiting she glanced at herself in the tooth-paste splattered mirror (Yes, her friends had not only pillow fights, but toothpaste fights too) that hung above the sink.
Here goes. The daily self-abuse/assesment.
Her looks didn’t impress her really; she wasn’t beautiful like Dom (Dom was part vela, to be fair) with her long silky blonde hair and blue eyes, and she wasn’t chic looking like Amanda with her stylish black bob cut and latest fashionable clothes (Amanda’s mom was the editor of Witch Fashion Magazine, to be fair.) She studied her face. The long, wavy, red-mahogany hair was something she did like. It was mostly creditable to her father, as were the freckles that dusted her nose.
But her almond shaped eyes and dark eyebrows belonged to her mother. She had also inherited her mother’s brains, and most certainly some of her father’s stubbornness.
Opening her mouth slightly, she glared at her slightly uneven front teeth. Al had told her that he thought it gave her character, but Rose supposed that that was just something you said to people when you didn't actually want to tell them, "No, I actually really don't love your leather, bell-bottom pants." So what you really say is, "Oh yeah. They're full of character!"
She rolled her eyes at herself in the mirror, which she was suspecting that she did far too much for the health of her eyes, and got in the shower.
But anyway, back to topic. Her parents.
Her parents were…well, a love/hate situation. They sometimes acted like teenagers, how they bickered over the stupidest things. And surprisingly enough, they were still leaning about each other and themselves, and that’s what Rose suspected had kept them still together. Or maybe, after all that they had gone through, with the whole Voldemort business, they just didn't know how to operate without each other.
But really, they just annoyed the crap out of her. Her mum was the epitomistic control freak mother. Everything was about Rose's "future", and making "choices". It was hard to live up to her mother.
Her father was annoyingly quick to judge, quick tempered, clumsy...actually, a lot like herself, Rose decided after some thought.
Hugo, her little brother, had become quite the trouble maker.
Last Christmas, he had bewitched the suits of armor to shout vulgar things at any students passing in the hallways, he had filled the baskets of Christmas cookies with Puking Pasties (Yes, that was very gross), he had hung parmesan-sprinkling mistletoe all over the castle, covering anyone who walked under it in cheese, he had charmed the toilets in the third-floor loo to shoot water (and anything else in there) back out when you tried to flush it, and hired a group of ghosts to sing offensive potty-mouth Christmas carols. He was, clearly, a very mature thinker.
She turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and walked back up the stairs into the dormitory. At first she thought she had somehow been magically transported to some other place, some snowy winter wonderland. There were millions of feathers covering everything, making their dormitory have a sort of frosty Christmas look. Dom, Lucy, and Amanda were rolling on the floor laughing and giggling crazily.
My friends are on crack.
They got up after a moment, weak with laughter, and Dom attempted to clean up the mess, trying a straight face.
“Erm…repairo?” She asked doubtfully, her wand uncertainly grasped in her hand.
Some of the feathers clumped together with a pillow case to make a very sorry looking lump of a pillow. All the girls giggled.
“That can be your pillow, Dom.” Amanda managed between sniggers.
“Here,” Rose said, crossing the room to get her wand.
The pillows all reformed themselves and returned to their beds.
“Fine!” Dom muttered and pretended to act hurt. She gave a false sniffle.
“Merlin's panties, you freaks, let’s go to breakfast.” Lucy said.
Down, out the portrait hole, down the stairs, through the rusty doors, through more stairs, moving ones, down the shortcut through the trap door, past the painting of ‘Discovery of Monkshood’, up a spiral staircase, behind the sliding statue of Gregory the Great, down a long, dark hall, to the Slytherin portrait hole, into the dark common room, through the green shadows, up the stairs, through a door, into a room.
Buttons were such a pain.
After buttoning his shirt all the way up, Scorpius realized he was one button off. He undid all of the buttons, and started to button again.
It was the dream. He had had it again, and it bothered him. It made him entirely incapable to focus, obviously, ie the buttons. Just buy a damn shirt with some velcro.
Why the hell not?
Another day, only beginning. The days after the dreams were always so, so much worse.
He heard someone come in behind him. He didn’t turn around, thinking that it was maybe Max, his room mate who had forgotten to grab something before he went to breakfast. He had gotten to bed late last night and had had trouble waking up in the morning, and so all of his roommates had already left.
But then suddenly Max was singing. He spun around and instead of Max there was large floating velvet lacy heart, very lacy, with a face in the middle, and a mustache. To his utter astonishment and repulsion, it began to sing.
“Scorpius, you’re the only one,
You make life, so much fun
I love you, yes I truuuuuuuly dooooo,
My secret crush is youuuuuuuuuuuuuu,
I love your eyes, they match your…erm…ties,
I’ll think of you, for ever and ever,
We would look, so good together,
I dream of you, when you …erm…tie your shoes,
The heart seemed to be loosing pace and confidence, and the lyrics became a little slower.
“The clothes you wear, match your hair,
Your under wear—“
Scorpius had managed to wipe the scowl of astonishment off of his face and had pulled out his wand.
The singing stopped. Scorpius’ mouth was still open in a surprised scowl.
“What is this?” He asked bewilderedly to no one in particular. He then saw a tag tied to the heart, and he bent down to look at it.
-To Scorpius, my secret crush-
The heart had completely stopped singing, and looked a little put out. Scorpius removed the muffliato spell.
“Ah, yes. Thank you, young man.” The heart said.
Scorpius tried to convince himself that this was just another dream.
But no, it kept on going.
“There was a pretty girl who was very anxious to express her feelings to you, and so she contacted me. I was not the writer of the song, by the way.” The heart assured.
Scorpius debated what to do for a moment, but then grabbed his bag and made his way around the heart towards the stairway to the common room.
A few moments later, Scorpius was making his was into the great hall to eat. He felt annoyed, tired, irritated, and embarrassed at this secret love letter/heart thing. He got that all the time, oddly, but never before in the shape of a male heart singing…a well, rather horrible song. At least it didn’t happen in front of all of his friends, he would never live that one down. He was used to the female eyes that followed him everywhere, the countless love notes, the stalkers, and he was also used to just wanting to be left alone. Consequentially, he had this “conceited” image, with “I LOVE MYSELF” stamped to his forehead. I don’t even understand why they’re all so obsessed with me. They clearly don't know me. They don't know that I can't even properly button up my own shirt.
He sat down at the Slytherin table with Max, his best friend.
“Hey mate,” Max said, flipping his black hair off of his face as Scorpius sat down.
“Just...uh…slept in a little bit.” Scorpius said, reaching for a scone.
“So where were you last night?” one of the other Slytherin boys, Jake, asked with a taunting raised eyebrow. “Down in ‘library’ with one of your little ‘study dates’?” He asked sarcastically, making little quotes signs in the air with his fingers.
“Oh. I was raiding the kitchen for food.” Scorpius said, dismissing the sarcasm for now. It was a lie. Last night he had been in the room of requirement. Scorpius didn’t sleep too much--it gave him that handsome, tortoured soul look, which the ladies LOVED...but not really.
He was either in the library late at night, out for a walk by the lake or through the grounds, or he was in the room of requirement. The room of requirement was a sanctuary for him, where he could just relax. Scorpius played the piano, totally inappropriate for a teenage boy, especially a Malfoy. Max knew, but mostly everyone else thought he was too tough or too macho for something like that. So on some nights, Scorpius would go walk past the room of requirement thinking that he needed a room where he could be alone and just play the piano, or sleep. The room of requirement provided the perfect room.
It was medium sized, with a high domed ceiling and a beautiful piano in the corner. The room was round shaped, with marble pillars and a feinting couch on one side. The floor was made of marble with a compass rose in the middle pointing north, south, west, and east. In one corner there was also an easel with a sketchpad and paints and pencils and such. The room had wonderful acoustics as well.
Scorpius had stayed late playing a new concerto his neighbor had sent him, Sue Smiths.
Yes, it sounded weird, but oddly enough she had been one of the best people he had ever met. Sue was funny, and free-flowing, and when he was little his parents would leave him with her while they went to parties and such, and she would watch him. She was a pianist, and she had been for a very long time, and so instead of watching TV or playing wizard chess, she had taught him to play piano. They had also talked; she had been one of the few people he actually trusted. She told him about her days at Hogwarts many, many years ago. He told her about all of his family troubles, and she sympathized. And eventually he loved her like a mother, although he didn’t know that because he didn’t have anything to compare it to. After a while he was too old to be babysat and his parents would leave him at home alone for days on end, and he would still go see her. She was fairly old now; she had been back then too, but they still kept in touch through mail.
That was it, really. The ladies loved his kind affection for the elderly.
Sighing, Scorpius joined in on the enthusiastic discussion about the Quidditch game tomorrow, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. The voices were layered over one and other.
“We’ll whip their tight little as-“
“It’s not like they have a chance anyway with that keeper of theirs-“
“Like he could block anything!”
“Nothing but the ladies-“
Wow, mates. Way to really take the mic out of it. That's a good one.
And the table erupted in laughter.
“What about that seeker of theirs, Rose Weasley?” Someone called rather too loudly.
“Nah, Scorp can beat her, right?”
Scorpius didn’t get a chance to reply.
“Well, duh! She’s a girl!” One of the peppy second-years said.
Scorpius permitted himself a glance over at the Gryffindor table just in time to see Rose glaring at their table, also looking slightly hurt. He especially noticed that it wasn’t him who she looked at. She never looked at him.
“Hey,” Scorpius said quietly to the eager Quidditch mob. “She’s listening. She's going to come over here and kick all of our asses."
They all laughed, whicle some of the younger boys actually looked a bit concerned, and immediately stopped laughing.
Scorpius glanced at her again, and felt a slight smirk come to his face when he saw her ears turn bright red with embarrassment. Maybe she does know who I am… He shook his head, trying to be rid of that train of thought. He had thought that way too many times.
His father hated the Weasleys. His grandfather had really hated them. They both said that they disgraced their pureblood name, especially after they brought that mudblood Granger into the family (His father’s words, not his.)
Scorpius had become very wary of ever mentioning anything about the Weasley family or the Potter family around his father. His mother didn't really care.
Scorpius really suspected that his father was partly jealous of the full, happy, extravagant family. He knew he was. Scorpius had always wished for a happy family, with no fighting and no secrets, especially when he was younger. He was very independent now, though.
He remembered the first time he had actually seen the Weasleys, just before boarding the train on platform 9 and ¾. The tallest was a full grown man, with bright orange hair, slightly gangly looking, and very freckled. He had his arm around the waist of a strong looking woman with intelligent eyes, bushy brown hair, and a slightly worried expression on her face. The younger girl, their daughter --he presumed by her red hair and rosy cheeks-- turned a loving smile upon her parents, and gave a happy laugh. That was probably the saddest, most hopeless, despairing, empty, abandoned, and yet inspiring moment he had ever had in his entire life. It left him hopeless and lost because he had never experienced that, he had never really had a comforting mother figure, a loving family, somewhere where he was sure he belonged. But it also gave him a surge of pleasure to have been able to watch it.
It pretty much meaned that he was an overly sensitive, over-analyzing wuss.
Behind them, there was another family who he knew were the Potters. And suddenly the two groups were watching him. He instantly felt hated. Looks of distaste were on some of the faces, but he noticed with slight hope the daughter with the red hair looked simply curious.
His father had then pushed him along, and he got on the train and thought about the Weasleys for a good three hours, the time that he sat alone on the journey to Hogwarts. Although he was shy, he had eventually made a lot of friends in his first year, and now apparently he was considered “popular”. He was quiet, but had a sense of humor and most people liked him right away; especially the girls. He was constantly teased about the steady flow of secret admirer notes, love-sick girls following him to and from classes and the constant fans trying to get into his dormitory while he was asleep. He thought that maybe people thought that he was a narcissist, with the girls and the…popularity…whatever.
But obviously, the one girl that wasn’t obsessed with him was of course the only one…well, yes. She wasn’t even close to obsessive, actually. He wasn’t even sure that she knew him by name. Maybe that was why he felt...
He glanced at Rose then, and the familiar feeling of someone punching his stomach found him again. He had thought her fascinating from his very first year, from the very moment she had asked to borrow a quill the first day of school. But realistically, he thought that the feelings were not real. It’s not like I’ve even talked to her! Why do I always feel like this around her?! You can’t be in love with someone you’ve never talked to before! It’s completely unrealistic. Maybe it's like a weird chemical thing.
Max told him he needed to 'tap that' and then just be done with it.
Some form of this conversation went through his head at least once a day. He had entirely convinced himself that it was something else. He had an interest in her, a fascination.
So now, he was an obsessive teenage boy who couldn't button up his own shirt.
It was of course a complete secret. Except for Max, who he had known from first year when they met both hiding in the bathroom, too scared to face their first class.
“Scor, you need to eat something if we’re going to beat Gryffindor tomorrow.” Max said, his dark eyes full of concern, while dishing up his own fifth serving of eggs and ketchup.
“Yeah.” Scorpius sighed quietly, not really listening.
“You okay?” Max said, stopping his fork in mid-air between his mouth and his plate. He had a little bit of ketchup on the corner of his mouth.
“Just, haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.” Scorpius added, trying to sound more cheerful. Max raised an eyebrow at him but nodded.
“Okay, let’s go to class.”
Scorpius nodded, and they got up and left, Scorpius being very careful not to look over at the Gryffindor table.
Author's Note-Okay, I know the first chapter is supposed to be really great but I just re-read this (I wrote it about a year ago) and WOW. It sucks. I think it's just one of those chapters you have to get out of the way to start rolling. I promise it gets better after this! I'm working on editing it but I also am working on the more recent chapter.So, if you have any thoughts then drop me a review but just try to read at least the next chapter? If you have ANYTHING to say, don't worry about hurting my feelings, or anything! Tell me the truth. (:
Do YOU hate it??? I'd love to hear anything you have to say-
xoxox and cheers
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