Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Back Next

Welcome to the Chase by dream_BIG
Chapter 15 : chapter.fifteen Crescents.
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 97

Background:   Font color:  


I have a horrible tendency to sprint through life without realizing the path of destruction and utter chaos I leave in my wake.

Then, at the worst possible time, everything comes back and bites me extremely hard in the arse, and I find myself not able to sleep as I stare at the drapes around my bed and try not to hyperventilate because ohmigod, what am I going to do?!

Currently, it comes down to this:

1)      I joined the Quidditch Team in order to win over Al Potter with my charming wit and attractive-ness (which I’m sure I possess…deep down in there somewhere).

a.       I can’t play Quidditch, which is a minor issue. But one I can overcome.

                                                               i.      Hopefully.

2)      I very stupidly befriended those Quidditch blokes (in my defense, they are quite friendly and it’s honestly really hard not to)

a.       And am now trying to help Blue Eyes win Emma Summers over

                                                               i.      So far, I’m actually doing something right and have managed to:

1.       befriend her

2.       bring her to Quidditch practice

                                                             ii.      on the downside, Blue hasn’t exactly managed to talk to her yet (which is a bit of a snag to this whole ‘winning-over’ thing)

b.      I am also trying to help Burly win over Dom

                                                               i.      Problem is that Dom hates his guts

                                                             ii.      And is currently dating Lysander/Dreamy, another one of the Quidditch blokes (who I haven’t been able to befriend, but he smiled at me in the hallway, so I think that counts)

1.       Solution: subtly help Dom break up with Lysander

2.       work on Burly’s ‘creepy issues’ (which he insists he doesn’t have, but he totally does) and have him charm Dom. Somehow.

3)      Rose and Scorpius  have major issues:

a.       Rose likes Scorpius but since he has a girlfriend, she’s being an insecure little girl.

b.      Scorpius likes Rose, and since he’s an insecure little girl, he went and got himself a girlfriend.

c.       Lesson: They both need therapy.

                                                               i.      Desperately.

d.      And I somehow convinced Rose to pretend-date-but-not-really-date-because-she-refuses-to-date Blondie. So now Scorpius thinks they’re dating. (ps – he’s mad at me. Something I should fix)

4)      Which brings us to Blondie

a.       Currently fake-dating (but not really fake-dating because Rose is an insecure little girl) Rose to make Scorpius jealous.

b.      But he likes Lily Potter, his mate’s little sister

                                                               i.      Which is stupid and will most likely get him killed.

1.       note to self: write nice speech for Blondie’s inevitable funeral.

2.       then raise money to get Al Potter out of Azkaban on bail so you can marry him


Boom. Snap. Crackle. Fizz.

(That was the destruction of my brain neurons)


(That was the main thought – I use that term very loosely – running through my head)


(I’m not sure what that was, but it’s a fun noise to make)

I sighed loudly and continued gazing at the ceiling.


And now, instead of flipping out because of my new Outline-of-Doom (which I conveniently wrote down, just in case I needed something to get my blood pressure up one of these days), I am going to think about something totally irrelevant and absolutely pointless.

Like my hair.

Sure. Let’s talk about my hair, shall we?

Well, for one thing, I rather like my hair. It’s the one feature on myself that I actually really am okay with. My hair is dark – like that mix between brown and black. So it’s like…brownish-black. Or maybe more blackish-brown. Is there even a difference?

Never mind. Moving on. My hair is dark. Just a shade lighter than black, to be precise. It’s long – but not like, freakishly long. It reaches to…eh…the middle of my back, maybe a little longer than that. And it’s shiny. Very shiny. Like, reflective.

Except not really, because that would just be weird.

My hair is usually curly. It starts off straight, near the top, and by the time it reaches to around my ears, it curls down my back. But since it’s soft and shiny, it doesn’t look messy and frizzy. Just curly, which is nice, because I honestly can’t remember the last time I brushed it. Usually I roll out of bed, throw on the first clothes I can find (and hope that they’re mine) and sprint downstairs to breakfast.

I like breakfast. And food in general. But mostly breakfast, because breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s yummy. And healthy. It’s like a win-win situation for Ariadne! I wish I had more win-win situations in my life.


Sometimes, when I wake up early (which is not often) and have nothing better to do with myself, I straighten my hair. Then it’s longer and it looks sort of feathery? Nah. Wispy? Well, no, not really because it’s insanely thick. But more float-y, I guess. It blows around in the wind a whole lot. Wheee.

Letting out a quiet scream of frustration, I punched my pillow a couple of times and plopped my face into it, squeezing my eyes shut tight.

I wonder how people manage to get sleep to come to them. Should I like, call it or something?

No. I should beckon it. Because beckoning is like, fifty times cooler than calling. And since I’m a cool cat, I beckon. Word.

That’s right. Be jealous. Don’t you wish you were cool enough to beckon? I know you wish you were cool enough to beckon. But, alas, you’re not. That right is reserved for me.

And that brings me to…beckoning.

Come on, sleep! I beckon you. I’m cool. Come to me!

Nothing’s happening.

I sighed loudly again and sat up, completely wide awake.

Whatever, I’m too cool for sleep. 

Oh my god, someone please hit me.

Deciding that my insomnia was making me even more insane than usual (refer to my internal monologue on my hair, and then my little rant on beckoning), I flung my sheets aside and stepped cautiously out of bed, my bare legs immediately erupting into goose bumps because of the cold floor. I felt around blindly for a couple of seconds and found two random socks (which I can bet were mismatched. And definitely not mine), which I pulled onto my feet. One slumped down to my ankle, and the other was an ankle-sock, so slumping was not an option.

I then pulled on a sweater that I found on the foot of Rose’s bed, which was three sizes too big for me and reached halfway down my thighs. The sleeve slipped off the shoulder repeatedly, so I decided to screw it and just leave it there.

Now I look like I’m not wearing any lower-garment. And sort of like a whore. A sleepy whore who wears mismatched socks.

Yeah, I feel pretty cool.

As quietly as I could, I shuffled down the steps to the common room and padded softly over to the light fire crackling gently in the fireplace, sinking into an armchair with a contented sigh.


I let out a loud yelp and jumped to my feet, whirling around in alarm.

“Merlin,” I breathed, setting a hand on my thumping heart upon seeing Al there. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”

“Um. I could be asking you the same question.” He raised an eyebrow, and I dimly noticed that he was also in pajamas (his pants have Quaffles on them! How cute!), his hair a mess of rumpled black.

“Couldn’t sleep.” I admitted.

He grinned tiredly. “Me neither.”

Dude, we have so much in common. We should totally get married.

“Nice jammies,” I said, since I honestly couldn’t deal with an awkward silence at the moment. I might start ranting about…I don’t know, like, boobs or something next.

Speaking of boobs, I think I’m disfigured! I mean, one of my boobs is bigger than the other one, and it’s really worrying! My right one’s a complete runt, and my left one is way –


Al was grinning, his cheeks slightly flushed. “My gran made them for me.”

“Lucky,” I said wistfully. “The only thing my gran ever gave me was a pamphlet on mental disorders. Charming, that woman.”

Al laughed loudly.

“Interesting choice of clothing you have there,” he remarked, looking at me in my full, fashionable glory (sarcasm).

“None of it’s mine. Except the shorts, and the top underneath the sweater,” I admitted, grinning a bit sheepishly.

“Er…where did you find that sweater?” he asked, eyeing it.

“Rose’s bed, why?”

“Well…it’s mine, I think.”

My mouth dropped open.

“I’m so sorry, usually I just sort of take Rose’s clothes without telling her and since she had this on her bed it was the first thing I could see and I sort of just –”

“It’s okay,” Al laughed, his green eyes dancing with the fire. “Keep it. Rose steals my clothes without telling me, too. Shame I can’t do that to her – though once I took a pair of shorts sitting on her bed that I later realized weren’t mine –”

“They were Scorpius’,” I cut across, realization dawning on me.

Al immediately looked an odd mixture of somewhere between shocked and murderous, which gave him that ‘constipated’ look that I’m always wearing. “What were Malfoy’s shorts doing on my cousin’s bed?!”

“I took them!” I said loudly, before Al went on a murderous rampage through Hogwarts. “I stole them from him and I must have dumped them on Rose’s bed!”

“Fucking git – oh,” he said, sounding a bit sheepish. “Right. Of course.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “Honestly, Al. Scorpius kissed Rose once.”

He grimaced. “I still don’t like it.”

“Why not?” I asked, honestly offended.

“Well – it’s just – not because it’s Malfoy,” he said quickly, upon seeing my face. “Really, it’s not. It’s just because Rose is always…so…fast about everything, you know? She’s one of the cleverest witches I know, but when it comes to things like these, she’s the type of girl who’ll just run into it without even thinking and I just…well, I get worried. About her.” He frowned slightly. “I don’t want her getting hurt.”

“No, I understand,” I said quietly. “Scorp isn’t the smartest bloke out there when it comes to things like these, either. Tell you the truth, I reckon he’s a little terrified of all of this.”

He laughed at that one. “Malfoy, scared? No!”

I rolled my eyes. “Gosh Potter, he’s a person, you know.”

“What, so now I’m ‘Potter’, am I?” He scowled playfully.

I grinned. “Don’t make fun of my cousin. Then, maybe, I’ll let you be my friend.”

He stuck his tongue out at me. I stuck mine back at him.

I think I might have died and gone to heaven.

“So, what was this about you being late to practice because of Malfoy, anyway?” Al asked me after we’d both settled into armchairs around the fire.

“He wanted to know if Rose was really dating Blondie.” I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, the kid is just too much.”

“Maybe he really cares about it,” Al said thoughtfully.

“I never know when he’s being real and when he’s putting on an act.” I frowned. “At times, when he’s talking about Rose, or sometimes when I think he’s just thinking about her, I feel like maybe he’s let that act slip a little. But then he goes and does something completely stupid and it makes me want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him and ask him what the hell he’s up to.” I sighed loudly. “I just don’t get him.”

“Malfoy’s the type of person who’s got to have a façade around him, though,” Al said, as if he’d known Scorpius his whole life. “Even I’ve seen it. When he’s around other people, he’s different from when he’s around, like – you, or even by himself.”

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “Scorpius is confusing. I try not to think about it too much.”

He grinned. “So, anyway, Russell, Nick and Scottie told me about this whole Plan thing you’ve got going on with them.”

I laughed nervously. “What about it?”

“Some really crazy thing involving Emma Summers, Dom, Rose and Scorpius,” he rolled his eyes. “I didn’t understand half of it, to be honest, but they’re pretty happy about it.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, well, don’t tell them this, but I don’t exactly know what I’m doing with the whole ‘Plan’ thing.”

This caused him to laugh loudly. “That might not be so good.”

“It’s a little worrying.” I grinned.

“Nah, nothing is going to worry those guys. They think you’re like, Aphrodite incarnate or something.” Al rolled his eyes at the antics of his friends.

I laughed. “Nope, I’m just Ariadne. If you want Aphrodite you’ll have to go to my sister.”

His brow furrowed. “You have a sister?”

I shrunk back slightly into the armchair, wishing I hadn’t even brought it up. “Er – older. Yeah.”

“How old?” he asked, looking genuinely curious.

“Well, she’s ten years older than me, so – twenty-seven.” I thought for a second. “She’s probably married and everything by now.”

“What do you mean by ‘probably’?” His head was tilted to the side, and he was watching me intently.

I fidgeted and picked with a loose thread on the armchair, looking into the fire. “We don’t talk much,” I said softly. More like, we don’t talk at all.

There was an awkward silence.

“Oh,” Al said lamely.


“I – sorry.”

I shook my head, still looking at the fire. “It’s not your fault.”

“Then,” he hesitated, glancing at my stiff posture, “then…who’s fault…is it?”

I sighed and pushed my head back into the softness of the chair. “I’ll let you know once I figure it out.”

There was another long silence, and I watched the flame dance in the fireplace.

“I don’t know what’s going on or anything,” Al finally said cautiously, “And I’m not going to pry, but…you can, you know, talk to me and shit. If you need to.”

I couldn’t help but smile at how awkwardly adorable he was. “Thanks, Al.”

He looked slightly anxious now. “Well – you know. Just want to make sure my Seeker’s alright, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” I said sarcastically. “I need a clear head to bring on the intense game.”

“That’s right,” he said, sounding distinctly relieved. “Keep your head in the game, Chase.”

“Would work if I knew how to play the damned game,” I muttered resentfully.

“You’ll manage to surprise everyone, even yourself,” Al said, standing up. “You’ve never failed to surprise me yet.”

 I laughed incredulously, watching him pad over to the boy’s staircase. “Hardly. I’m not very hard to read.”

He stopped to look at me. “I think there’s a lot more to you than you let yourself believe, Ariadne.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Good night,” he grinned at me once and walked up the steps. I stared after him in confusion.

What is with this boy and his confusing little remarks?



 Chase Residence

Age: 7

“Dear Lord, love, what did you do to your hair?” Mom asked me desolately, pulling the paints out of my hand and kneeling down to pick apart a large clump of paint-covered hair.

“I was painting,” I told her brightly, indicating to my picture. Halfway through the process, I’d decided to screw the damn paintbrush (I live outside the box, yo. Word.) and instead used my hands to create my masterpiece. It looked oddly like someone had upchucked a bunch of colors on the canvas.

In short, it was my style of painting.

“Your hair,” Mom said again, completely disregarding the painting. “Oh Ariadne, why would you get it in your hair?”

I pouted. “Mom it’s just paint. It’ll wash out.”

“It’s going to take forever to wash out!” she continued to lament.

Of course my mom would be more worried about a little bit of paint in my hair rather than what I’d spent the greater part of two hours creating. She was obsessed with her precious princesses (gag) looking absolutely perfect.


That’s Deets’ job. She can deal with having to do her hair every morning and look prim and proper and mindlessly beautiful. I’m quite content with being just me, thanks.

“And we have to go to that party in a little while!” Mom wailed, giving up and sitting back with a frustrated sigh. “I told you not to get yourself dirty today.”

“I was going to go mudsliding,” I told her. “At least I didn’t do that, right?”

She was not pleased with this information. In fact, I got yet another rant about being girlish. Well, I’m sorry if the color pink makes my eyeballs itch and the only use I have for Barbies is to practice my dismembering skills. That’s how I roll. Let me be me.

I sighed and wished to myself that she hadn’t caught me with paint in my hair.

And then my mom screamed.

“Oh my god!”

I looked up at her in alarm; she was staring at me as though I’d suddenly transformed into a slug of some sort – and while I thought that would be pretty bloody awesome, she clearly did not share my sentiments.

“What happened?” I asked. Mom just shook her head jerkily and moved back a couple of steps. “Mom?” I asked, my voice laced with uncertainty.

“No,” she whispered. “Not you, too.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” I was starting to get seriously alarmed. Was there something on my face? Had I developed a spontaneous illness? Burst out into huge, pulsating, multicolored boils?

Dude, that would be so awesome.

“Daphne?” Dad came rushing in the room, Aphrodite trailing after him with a mildly concerned expression on her flawless face.

“A-ariadne…” Mum pointed a shaking finger at me.

Now I was annoyed. “What?” I asked forcefully. “What are you lot staring at that’s so weird?”

“Your hair,” Mum whispered. She was gazing at me with something like sadness and almost a little resentment in her eyes. I frowned – it’s just a little mess!

“Yes, mum, there’s paint in it!” I said, exasperated. I rolled my eyes in a move that usually got me in trouble for being so sassy at seven.

“There’s no paint in your hair,” Aphrodite said quietly.

“Of course there –” I touched my hair and my sentence cut off abruptly. I felt around the strands frantically – there was paint in my hair, it had dried and crusted the strands together! – what was going on – I didn’t understand how something like this could –

I glanced down.

Lying around my feet were chunks of paint, looking as though they had simply slid off my hair and dropped lightly to the floor.

I grinned to myself.



“Ugh, look at them,” Rose muttered furiously, stabbing her fork rather viciously into her steak as she glared across the hall at Scorpius and his girlfriend. “Bloody sucking each other’s faces off! I mean, hello? People are trying to eat here, you know.”

“Here’s an idea,” I said loudly, tired of her endless rants on my cousin’s snogging technique, “how about you stop looking?”

“How can I? They’re sitting right in front of me!” Rose exclaimed, accidentally flinging a large chunk of meat into the air. I dodged it as it flew past me, and it landed on a random Ravenclaw’s head. He looked around in alarm, eyeing the ceiling with an apprehensive expression on his face.

“They’re sitting on the opposite side of the Great Hall,” Emma pointed out from next to me.

Rose decided not to respond to that one, as she was back to pulverizing her steak as she watched them kiss.

“Bloody whore,” she said angrily, stabbing her fork downwards a couple of times.

“Er – Rose?” I tried tentatively, my eyes riveted on her plate, which now looked like a thoroughly appetizing mass of brown puke, “the cow’s already dead, you know.”

“No, she’s still bloody alive,” Rose spat, her eyes narrowing even more. “Though at the rate they’re going, she’ll probably die due to lack of oxygen soon.”

Oh my god.

“I thought you said you didn’t like him,” Emma piped up, looking at Rose with a smirk flickering at her mouth. Rose had spent a great deal of time during History of Magic, Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts vehemently denying any type of attraction towards Scorpius Malfoy to anyone who’d listen.

No one even asked if she liked the little bugger.

She looked away from them, a blush spreading across her cheeks. “Of course I don’t like him! Pfft. I hate Malfoy. He’s – totally – not attractive, with his…his…” she let out a couple more scoffs, “his stupid silvery eyes. And the blue swirls in them are like…uh, gross. And not at all pretty. And his hair like…blonde. And like…not…good looking. In the slightest. He looks like…a…troll!” she then proceeded to laugh really loudly at her own ‘joke’.

We stared at her.

Merlin, I think she’s finally managed to go around the bend.

“His eyes have blue swirls in them?” I finally asked, sounding decidedly shocked.

“Um, yeah,” Rose said, as if it were an obvious fact, “Duh, Ariadne.”

“How the hell do you even know something like that?” I demanded. I mean, for god’s sake – the kid’s my bloody cousin! I’ve known him for years, and yet I haven’t noticed the blue swirls in his eyes.

Unless it’s Rose insanity talking, which is probably the case.

Rose let out a couple more ‘pfft’s’ as she tried to come up with an appropriate excuse. “Everyone knows that.”

“Really.” Emma deadpanned.

Rose looked at her. “Yes, Emma, really. I mean, you haven’t noticed?”


“It’s common knowledge.”

“Yeah,” I said sarcastically, “I’m sure that’s what everyone talks about these days.”

“Of –”

“Oi! Blondie!” I yelled down the table. Blondie looked up from the conversation he was having with Blue Eyes.


“What color are Scorpius’ eyes?”

Rose was slowly turning an unhealthy shade of deep purple. It clashed horribly with her mahogany-colored hair.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” Blondie shouted, looking horrified.

“You’re supposed to know these things about him, Blondie!”


The Great Hall fell silent.

Blondie’s eyes widened. Al, Blue Eyes and Burly started sniggering loudly, and I grinned down at him.

“Well, I’m glad we cleared that up,” I said between badly repressed snickers. “I wasn’t implying it or anything, but the fact that –”

“I’m going out with Rose! Rose is a girl!”

All eyes swiveled to said girl, and she let out a whimper and slowly inched under the table. Without meaning to, I glanced over at Scorpius. His face was carved out of ice, and he was staring at Blondie with unadulterated hatred on his face. Pushing his girlfriend’s hand off of his arm – and ignoring the hurt look on her face – he got up and promptly left the Great Hall. I looked back at Blondie, who looked shocked at the words that had slipped out of his mouth, then at Al (because that’s just what I do).

He was watching me, his green eyes inscrutable. As my eyes met his, he raised an eyebrow and nodded slightly towards the doors that Scorp had just exited from. I bit my lip, let out a half-hearted shrug, and swung my legs over the bench, picking up my back and slinging it over my shoulders as I ran after my gitfaced cousin.

The Great Hall erupted into whispers.

We’ve always had a flair for dramatics, as students here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s part of what we do. It’s like…our thing. A student can turn a perfectly normal (re: not normal at all) dinner into the next gossip-topic for the next week, just by feeding on the nosiness of our school.

Stupid kids. Mind your own bloody business! I cursed under my breath as I sprinted down the hallways, pushing the front doors out of my way so that I could scamper down the steps. Scorpius was crossing over the grounds quickly, his blonde hair whipping around in the fierce wind.

“Scorpius!” I yelled, my backpack thudding against my back as I staggered after him. The wind carried my voice away. “SCORPIUS!”

He didn’t turn around.

Bloody – fucking – git.

Chunks of my dark hair fell out of my hastily constructed braid and whipped me across the face as I thundered after him, my legs moving faster than I had expected them to. Moments later, completely out of breath, I pushed aside the fringe of leaves covering our favorite Weeping Willow by the lake and stepped into the green alcove.

“Scorpius,” I said breathlessly, looking at him. He was sitting on the ground, his knees drawn to his chest and his clenched fists sticking straight out over them. His head was bowed into his arms. I dropped my backpack on the ground and walked over slowly, sitting down tentatively next to him.

“Scorpius,” I said again, this time softer. I lightly touched one of his fists, but he kept his hands curled up.

“Say it, Ariadne,” his voice was a furious growl.

“What?” I asked, honestly surprised.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose and rested his head back against the tree trunk, his eyes tightly shut. “Say you told me so.”

My brow furrowed. “What – exactly – did I tell you so?”

“That I’d lose her if I didn’t do anything about it.”

I was literally so shocked that I sat there and stared at him for a couple of incredulous minutes.

“I –don’t think I ever said that, Scorp.”

“Just tell me you told me so!” His voice was a low whip, cutting through the air. I bit my lip.

“I told you so?”

“I – fuck!” he yelled, throwing his fists against the ground. I flinched back.

“Scorpius –”

“She probably hates me now, and…fucking hell. I fucked it up.”

There was a short silence as he stared at the green mass above him. Slowly, I took his hand and unraveled his fist, smoothing out the fingers and the little nail marks on his palm. I bit my lip as I looked at those crescents. Rose has no idea. I had no idea.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said softly.


I let out a deep breath. “For lying to you.”

His head whipped around so that he was looking at me, his eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

I bit my lip again. “Rose…isn’t…dating Blondie.”

There was a long silence.


I winced at his flat tone. He seemed a million times worse than pissed off – he was fucking mad.

“She – I – well, I thought maybe if I told her to…to stage a fake relationship with Blondie for a couple of days, you –”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Scorpius asked in an appalled voice, pulling his hand out of mine.

“I was just trying to help –” I said desperately.

“Stop!” he said loudly, staring at me as though I had suddenly sprouted horns and a forked tail. “Stop trying to help people, then – it just hurts them more!”

“Scorpius, I really –”

“You know what? Maybe we just should just…just stay away from each other for a little while.”

I stared at him in shock. Life without Scorpius was just…unimaginable. Painful. Impossible.

“What?” I asked, my voice hitching slightly. “Scorpius, how can you –”

“How can I? How can I? Fuck, Ree, you’re the one who’s trying to fuck around with everyone’s lives! How could you even think about screwing with me like that? You – you don’t get it!” He said in frustration.

“No, I don’t!” I screamed back, my eyes filling with tears. “I don’t get it, Scorpius, because you never give me the chance to understand what might be going through your head!”

“I don’t need to clue you in about what goes on in my head, Ariadne –” he said through gritted teeth.

“This isn’t just about you, Scorpius! This is about Rose, too,” I took a shuddering breath, “and you can’t – you can’t just do that to someone and then pretend it never happened. That’s…that’s not fair to her.”

“Look, I don’t know what to do!” He yelled, looking slightly desperate.

“Then let me try to help you!” I said back, my voice pleading.

“I don’t need your help, Ariadne –”

“Maybe you do, Scorpius! My whole life, it’s always been me depending on you for comfort and love and magic and happiness – give me a chance to make it up to you. Maybe you…you need me, too.”

There was a short silence. Wind whipped through the falling branches of the willow, and the heavy sound of rain erupted into the air.

“I’ve always been taking from you my whole life. At least give me a chance to give something back,” I finished softly, leaning back against the tree and looking down at my hands in my lap.

“That’s not true,” he said automatically.

I didn’t respond.

Scorpius sighed and inched closer to me, putting his head gently on my shoulder. For a long moment we sat there in silence, both lost in our thoughts. I closed my eyes and leaned my cheek against the downy softness of his hair.

“She scares me,” he finally said quietly.

I had the bizarre urge to laugh. “Rose?”

“Not Rose, specifically. Just…the way she makes me feel. It – it’s…like, different. And I don’t know what it is, and I don’t like not knowing. And it fucking terrifies me,” he paused for a second. “It’s like – I can’t stop thinking about the little minx, even though she’s completely mental.”

I let out a squawk of indignant protest. “Excuse me, prat, she’s my –”

“But what’s really weird is that I actually really like her mental-ness,” Scorpius kept going, sounding appalled at himself. I certainly was shocked. “I like…I like every part of her. It makes me want to laugh and smile and sort of just…keep wanting to know more. About her. Something about her just gets me.”

There was a short, stunned moment of silence.

“You’re such a cutie, Scorp,” I cooed.

“Shut up,” Scorpius laughed. We both seemed to loosen a little, and he started playing absentmindedly with a charm bracelet wound around my wrist. I didn’t think it was by mere chance that the bracelet he went for was the one that Rose given me. His fingers brushed over the red rose that was dangling from it.

“All the other girls,” he finally said quietly, “I’m bored of them before I even start dating them. But…but something tells me that I couldn’t get bored of Rose Weasley even if I tried.”

And that was about as close to love as Scorpius Malfoy was going to get. 


i'm not even going to lie - i loved this chapter :) i loved writing it, i loved reading it over...this chapter just made me really happy in general. hopefully you feel the same way? maybe you should review and let me know ;)

and i love favorite quotes!! i'm curious as to whether the things i find funny and find funny and awesome as well. because, well, face it - i have a really wonky sense of humor. so i was just wondering :)

ps: please don't curse in your reviews, guys! i don't want you getting in trouble :/ and all for me AWWWW<3

no, seriously. don't, okay? let's keep those buddies 12+ :)

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Favorite |Reading List |Currently Reading

Back Next

Review Write a Review
Welcome to the Chase: chapter.fifteen Crescents.


(6000 characters max.) 6000 remaining

Your Name:

Prove you are Human:
What is the name of the Harry Potter character seen in the image on the left?

Submit this review and continue reading next chapter.

Other Similar Stories

by Miss Nobody

by free elf 25

by sweet DEV...