Chapter 2 : On: Gossip
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You all thought I hated my family. Well, I hate Scorpius Malfoy even more.
“Good morning, Rose,” said my mother.
“Morning,” I grunted. It certainly wasn’t a good one.
“Rosie, you didn’t greet our guest,” Louis pointed out.
That Louis, always known for his tact.
I hastened a glance at the Spawn and forced a smile. “Hello, Scorpius,” I managed, through gritted teeth. I was actually quite proud of myself.
“Hello, Rose,” he replied, with equal amounts of loathing.
GOD, I hate that boy.
Albus was sorted into Slytherin—my theory is he asked the Sorting Hat to put him there, because he is Harry’s favourite child and he wanted to do something unique and special for Daddy—and naturally became best friends with Scorpius Malfoy because he’s the only other prat in the House just as arrogant as he is. At least my dad hates the kid as much as I do.
I don’t know what the houses were like back in my parents’ day (actually, I do, because they love talking about how much times have changed for the better), but now every house, besides Hufflepuff, is filled to the brim with arrogant people. People in Slytherin are arrogant and mean, in Ravenclaw they’re arrogant and smart, and in Gryffindor they’re arrogant and arrogant (don’t ask me why I was put there). In Hufflepuff they’re just nerdy and they keep to themselves (like Molly).
“Rose, would you like some breakfast?” my mum offered.
She piled me a heaping plate of food. I took it and looked around for a seat. I was about to hoist myself up onto a counter top and eat from there, when my uncle Charlie stood from his seat at the table.
“I’m finished eating, Rose, sit here,” he offered.
“Oh, no, really, it’s fine. I’m quite content up here,” I practically shouted from the other side of the room.
“Nonsense. Please sit down.”
Of course the man had to be seated right next to Prat Extraordinaire, Scorpius “Spawn of Satan” Malfoy. I trudged over to the seat and plopped myself down. What was the arse doing here anyway? At my grandparents house, the day after my Christmas?
Yes, because no one else on planet Earth celebrated Christmas on December 25th that year.
“So, Mum, how’d Harry sleep last night?” Albus inquired obnoxiously.
“Just fine,” said Ginny, quietly sipping out of a mug.
“Out like a light?” Louis asked.
“Oh, shut up, you two.”
The boys snickered obnoxiously.
“My dad was off his face last night,” Albus explained to Scorpius, because the boy was too thick to figure it out on his own.
Ginny rolled her eyes at her son’s immaturity. Honestly, I don’t know how the poor woman can handle having three children so awful.
“Well, at least he wasn’t the one who went to bed with a newly-drawn moustache and obscenities scrawled across his face,” I muttered.
Albus’s laughing smile snapped straight into a scowl.
Serves him right. Wanker.
Ginny perked up. “What? I didn’t hear that.”
Muffled laughter spread across the rest of the table. Even Molly had to let loose a giggle.
Success. Rose: 1. Prat Team of Double Wankers: 0.
“I wish I’d gotten a picture. That sounds brilliant.”
Have I mentioned that I’ve always loved Ginny? What a lovely woman.
“Well, I’m done. Fancy a game of Quidditch?” Albus said quickly to his blondie friend.
“Sounds good,” said Scorpius, through a mouthful of eggs.
The two hurried off, dropping their dishes noisily into the sink. They couldn’t have left sooner.
“Who drew on him?” my mother asked.
“Hugo,” I admitted.
I worried for a moment that my mother might consider punishing the poor boy.
After a moment, Hermione said quietly to Ginny, “Well, I suppose it serves him right for getting pissed at a family event.”
This really is turning out to be a pleasant morning.
I retreated back upstairs to my room after that fabulous breakfast. The L’s were wide awake and gossiping—something they’re great at. Lily was brushing her hair and gazing at herself in the mirror—honestly?—while Lucy tossed clothes grumpily about the room.
“Hello,” I said, almost warily as I entered the room.
They didn’t notice me for a moment. They were so absorbed in their sprucing.
“Oh, Rose, could you maybe get your cat to sleep somewhere else tonight? I'm pretty sure I have a hair ball,” Lily commented, clearing her throat pointedly.
I plastered a fake grin across my face. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She flashed her pearly whites at me. “Champion.” Honestly, where she gets some of her jargon is beyond me.
“So, finish talking,” said Lucy.
“Oh, right, well I’m pretty sure he’s interested. I mean, he has to be—right?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely.”
“Like, he’s always going out of his way to talk to me, and all that, and he’s so friendly.”
How much bloody reassurance does this girl need? Lily puckered her lips into her mirror. Then she made a hideous smacking noise.
I climbed over massive piles of absolute rubbish to get to my bed. I pulled my bag—never did I unpack for fear of losing things in the abyss that was the two L’s and all their baggage—onto my bed and started searching for clothes to wear that day. I settled on a simple t-shirt and jeans; the usual.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what are you talking about?” Fine, so perhaps the gossiping is genetic.
They glanced at each other before Lily spun around in her seat to look at me. The desk in the room had been officially declared her make up station.
Fine. I’ve got to hand it to her; Lily does have brilliant taste in men. Patrick Finnegan is very, very fit. He’s got pouty lips and gorgeous blue eyes and is tall and built—but not, like, in a gross way—and has nice, messy brown hair.
“But, seriously, Rose, do NOT tell my brothers.”
“Why would I do that?”
She rolled her eyes and spun back around to ogle over herself some more.
“I don’t know, but I just have to make sure you won’t. We all remember what happened to Travis.”
Alas, poor Travis Billingsley. Suffered the wrath of the Potter boys.
“My lips are sealed.” I mimed zipping my mouth with a zipper and throwing away the key. Which made no sense, since I’d just zipped my mouth, not locked it. Anyway, no matter what I did, it looked stupid and I wished I hadn’t.
Suddenly a body flew through the window.
“Oh my God!”
Lily leapt from her seat and Lucy threw clothes everywhere. I, meanwhile, fell off the bed.
“Rose! Scorpius Malfoy just crashed into our bedroom!” Lily shouted much more loudly than was necessary.
Apparently, I’m the go-to girl in crisis situations.
“Thanks, Lily, I hadn’t noticed!” I shouted, pulling myself up from between the beds. There was very little space there; I’m not quite sure how I managed to fall between.
“Well, do something! Oh, my God! Is he dead!?” she cried.
Lucy leaned forward nervously and poked him in the shoulder with her finger. He stirred and then he moaned very loudly.
“Sc-sc-scor—” Lucy was having trouble with his name.
“Scorpius!” I yelled. “Are you okay?”
Luckily, there were lots of clothes and other assorted shit on the floor to cushion the fall.
He rolled over and attempted to push himself up, but proved to be too weak. Then he mumbled something.
“We can’t hear you!” Lily exclaimed. Then, “I’ll go get Mum!” And she ran out the door.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Beats me. He showed up at breakfast.”
“Scorpius! Scorpius, can you hear me?” Lucy shouted.
“At that decibel, he won’t be able to for long, Lucy.”
He mumbled something again.
“Sorry! Sorry,” she lowered her tone substantially.
“Scorpius, what happened?” I asked.
“…Ooooo…” Was all that came out.
Then I remembered that I was a witch armed with a wand, and I took the stick out and pointed it at the window, stating, “Reparo.” The shards flew rather frighteningly back into the window frame.
“Oooouuccchhh….” Was Scorpius’s muffled response.
“What happened?” I repeated.
He lifted his head about half a centimetre from the ground. “Oooom… Where’s my broooom?”
Honestly, was he four? Maybe five?
“Your broom? I don’t know where your broom is.”
“Scorpius, are you feeling alright? How many fingers am I holding up?”
Lucy was standing roughly near the middle of his back. He clearly could not see her fingers. Not to mention he was lying face-down.
“In here! In here!” Lily burst in, followed by her brother Albus, Ginny, and my dad.
“Oh—mate, I’m so sorry!” Albus whined, rushing to his friend’s side.
“I told you, two-person Quidditch does not work,” said my father. Always there for good advise.
“Scorpius—oh, shit,” was all Ginny could manage. She approached the boy and attempted to roll him over. “Scorpius, are you alright?”
“Oh, my God—he’s dead, isn’t he! He’s dead!” Lily wailed.
“Lily, he’s not dead,” said Albus. “Scorp, don’t die on me, mate!”
The Potters were really fans of dramatics. Now I see why they come to me in crisis situations.
Scorpius then started to push himself up into a seated position. His arms were covered in tiny scratches, as was his face, a bit. “I’m fine, yeah,” he said, rubbing his head.
“Are you sure? You crashed through a window,” Ginny pointed out. She turned to her brother. “Where’s Hermione?”
Hermione Granger: not good in crisis situations.
“No, I’m fine.” He started standing. He wobbled a bit, and then started toward the window.
“No!” everyone screamed.
“Don’t go over there!” shouted Lily.
“I’m just looking for my broom.” He opened the window and leaned out cautiously. He scratched the back of his head.
“Is it dead?” Albus asked, as though he was mourning a poor animal, or something. Not a bloody broom.
“Pretty much,” said Scorpius.
“I’m sorry, mate.”
“Come downstairs, we need to clean you up,” Ginny insisted.
Albus patted his friend on the back as they left the room, and I guarantee you it was about the sodding broom, not Scorpius’s nearly-lost life.
Now do you understand why I hate them so?
“Rosie, did you repair the window?” my dad asked.
Then he pet my head a little before leaving the room. Ron Weasley has problems showing affection, so he instead does strange things like that.
Now it was just me and the two L’s, once again.
“Well, Christ, Lucy, your wish sure came true.”
“Fuck, Lily, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I’d had enough of their endless drivel. I changed my clothes and left the room. Good riddance.
Needless to say, Scorpius’s ridiculous window-flying extravaganza was that night’s dinner conversation. The story was repeated about sixty-five thousand times courtesy of the lovely Lily.
“It was terrifying, TERRIFYING! Like, one minute we were just talking, and the next, a body flew through the window! Imagine what was going through our heads—I mean, I thought it could be a dead body, you know? Like a CORPSE! Right, Lucy?”
Lucy nodded in agreement. “Right. It was very scary.”
“TERRIFYING!” Lily cried.
“Was it terrifying, Lily? I’m not sure we heard it the other twenty times you told us,” said James.
The one time James and I actually agreed on something.
The rest of dinner went on much like that. It wasn’t quite as eventful as the previous night.
When we were finished, the parents all retreated upstairs, not eager to make the mistakes they made the night before, while the rest of us ended up in the living room.
“So, what’s all the Hogwarts gossip? I feel so out of the loop these days,” said Dominique.
“Really, Dom, are we thirteen again?” said Victoire, rolling her eyes from her position on Teddy’s lap.
Oooooooh, I could kill her.
“What, I’m just curious,” said Dom. “What’s happening back at the old castle?”
“Nothing,” said Albus. “It’s really quite, quite boring.”
I caught Scorpius hastening a glance at his friend.
“Well, you’re so quick to shut us down, Al, I’d even think you’ve got something to hide,” said the evil, blonde, moustached Disney princess.
Poor Teddy. Forced to sit here and listen to this family’s ridiculous idea of a conversation: continuous mocking of relatives. If it were me sitting on Teddy’s lap, not Victoire (as it should be), we’d certainly be discussing intelligent literature like War and Peace or Crime and Punishment or one of those books with “and” in the middle. Pride and Prejudice, perhaps?
“What’s this? Has Al got a girlfriend?” said Dominique, perking up.
Those bloody Delacour-Weasley girls are always starting things.
Anyway, we’d be drinking loads of tea and sitting next to a giant, crackling fireplace—
“What? No. Single as a…” He scratched his chin. “Very single thing…” was all the git could manage.
And then I’d light some scented candles, to really set the mood, and he’d sweep me into his arms and we’d head upstairs in our giant mansion to the giant bed in our giant, palatial, mansion bedroom—
“Oh, you must be talking about Emily Zabini,” said James, clearly just tuning into the conversation.
“Emily who?” said Dominque.
Then Albus sent his brother a horrible glare. Scorpius started snickering into his hand. So then Albus sent Scorpius a horrible glare.
Maturity has always been one of Albus’s best qualities.
“Wait, it’s a secret?”
“Secret? What secret? There’s nothing to be a secret.”
“Because, every corner I turn, you’re snogging her. I walk down that fifth-floor corridor, and I run into you two snogging. Then I come out of Potions, and you two are snogging in front of that statue. And don’t think I can’t spot you holding her hand underneath the table during meals.”
At that, Lily burst into a horrible fit of laughter, and let out the filthiest snort I’ve ever heard in my life.
“Fine, whatever, the only reason why I’m not making a big deal about it is because there’s nothing to make a big deal about. So, I snog people. Fantastic. Who doesn’t?”
Oh, now, let’s not all look at me at once.
“Don’t pretend that you haven’t got a girlfriend, then,” said Victoire, raising a stupid, perfectly plucked by professionals eyebrow.
“I haven’t got a girlfriend. I’ve got a girl that I snog. The end.”
“Tell that to Emily,” said Scorpius.
“He speaks!” Dominique cried, throwing her hands up in jubilation.
“What do you mean, ‘Tell that to Emily’? She’s the one—nevermind,” Albus stopped himself.
“No, do tell,” Dominique urged.
“No. I don’t have to tell anything to you lot.”
Dominique clucked to herself and sat back in her seat. “Come on, and it was just getting good.”
There was a momentary pause.
Obviously Dominique had to break it. “What about you, Rose?” She had this horrible smiley-smirk thing spread across her face.
I stood immediately. “Anyone fancy a cup of tea?” I looked at Teddy.
What in the name of Merlin is wrong with me?
Then the poor boy—man—was about to respond and I looked away, at the rest of my evil, demonic cousins.
“No one? Alright, I’ll just get some for myself.”
“Gosh, what a wet blanket,” I could hear Victoire muttering.
Stupid, stupid, perfect blonde bimbo. Evil, filthy, narcissistic, wench. Nasty, smelly, putrid, birdbrained, biscuit-arsed, long streak of piss!
She’s getting uglier and uglier by the minute in my head.
I didn’t realise Lucy was already in the kitchen.
“What’s he doing here, anyway?” I asked her. “Scorpius?” See how my mind can so easily switch between the various prats of my life?
“His parents jetted off somewhere last night. Argentina, I think,” she explained.
“Argentina? What’s there to do in Argentina?”
“Loads.” Lucy shrugged and left.
And yet I’m the wet blanket.
A/N: Okay, I’m sorry, I still feel like I’m establishing stuff. But think about how much juicier it’ll be when we actually get into the plot, because you’ll have had to wait. Leave a review if you can :D
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