While everyone has heard this saying, its realism does not become so obvious until you are put in a situation where the experience is actually first hand, and then you wish that you would’ve listened to what that person had said to do afterwards. After your life starts working funnily, that is.
Like crouching inside of Scorpius Malfoy’s wardrobe, for instance. If by funny, you mean ironic and freakishly bizarre, then yes, life works in very funny ways.
But anyway, back to the story.
Rose heard the latch on the door to the room lift, and someone entered the room.
Please let it be a maid, not his mother…
“Come in,” Scorpius said, his voice not giving away the fact that he had just passionately kissed--and then hidden--a girl in a closet.
Rose’s heart was beating so loudly she was sure that whoever entered the room would hear. She slowly crouched down in the wardrobe, and peeked out the keyhole, being careful not to lean on the doors. How embarrassing would that be to tumble face first into Malfoy’s room, wearing Malfoy’s clothes?
It was Scorpius’ mother, of course. Rose recognized her from the photograph, her smooth black hair pulled into an elegant bun, her slightly severe face, and round, forgiving lips that managed to ruin the whole severe effect.
Her eyes swept the room, and then flew back to her son’s face.
“The party tonight is at seven, and you need to come down presentable, “ She took little paces as she said this, each step making a click, click, click, as her shoes hit the floor, “There are lots of people coming, especially from the Ministry, and we don’t want a repeat of what happened last time.”
“I already said--” Scorpius started, but she interrupted him again.
Rose wondered for a second what had happened ‘last time’. Maybe he lit something on fire. Maybe he forgot to comb…
“That means comb your hair, darling, and for heaven’s sake, why have you not unpacked yet?” But she continued talking and Scorpius, hands in pockets, didn’t try to answer.
At this point, it suddenly hit Rose that she was hiding in a closet. And not metaphorically. Against the slow burning feeling from the kiss, a bitter feeling of shame spread across Rose.
Shame at being a Weasley, shame for kissing him, shame for showing up here at all, the bleeding, borrowing clothes. But most of all, it was the fact that he had hidden her in a closet. From his mother.
Sure, Rose’s presence would be difficult to explain, and putting her in the closet was in the heat of the moment, but was she that repulsive that he felt the need to hide her?
Surely his mother would understand that Rose had gotten lost. Perhaps she wouldn’t even recognize her for a Weasley.
But, like a true Weasley, Rose’s shame transformed into anger. Hot, melting, dripping, splattering anger. The burning from the kiss fueled into her rage until it became unbearable.
Rose had been so caught up in her silent fit of anger that she barely realized Scorpius and his mother had begun talking again.
“Come downstairs, the fitter is here, and your father must be almost done by now…” His mother was saying, clicking across the room towards the doors. She snapped her fingers. She actually snapped at him, like he was a god or something.
Scorpius followed her through the door without even a backwards glance. A sharp crystal of hurt hit Rose somewhere in her chest, but the anger swallowed it up before she could feel the wound.
She quickly tried to review what had just happened. She had misinterpreted his words, and then she had thrown herself on him, stopping only once he had forced her to move away. He was probably repulsed right now at her behavior. That did seem to support the fact that he had shut her in a wardrobe.
What, was she just supposed to sit here in the wardrobe, waiting for his return?
But, the voice in her head argued, he did say sorry.
Even if she had thrown herself on him, he had no right to shut her in a closet.
If he was so ashamed of her, then she would just leave, as she should have nearly two hours ago.
The door clicked shut, and Rose made herself count to ten before pushing open the wardrobe door, and clambering out onto the floor. She had to get out of here, or she didn’t know what she would do.
Rose stood in Scorpius’ room with a feeling of great panic. Out the window? Over the balcony? She was about to walk to the balcony until she saw the large fireplace in the corner next to his bed. It wasn’t perfect; she would have to cramp to fit inside, but it was all that she had. And she had to be gone before he returned.
Hurriedly stepping into the fireplace, Rose grabbed a handful of powder. She hesitated, staring at the door. What would happen if she stayed? Part of her, deep beneath the anger, was afraid what would happen if he came back.
“Potter Mansion,” she said, tightly closing her eyes on the last glimpse of Scorpius Malfoy’s bedroom.
The green flames enveloped her entirely, transporting her back to her own world.
Out the door, left down the hall, down the sweeping staircase, past the Chinese vase, across the eastern parlor, across the entrance hall, through the gold doorway into the main dining room
It was a pleasant noise, really, if you didn’t listen to attentively. If listened to as a whole, the din of the dining room sounded pleasant; voices happy to be warm on such a cold night, talking of love and travel, of humorous stories and gossip, enjoying the delicious food, drinking expensive wine.
However, had you listened to the conversations themselves, it was evident that this party was nothing of the sort.
“I said in my business proposal-“
“Lord Haughton is going to be Minister, I heard last week in the-“
“—thousands of galleons, down the drain, and if half of Surrey doesn’t take—“
“—more aggression in the line of fire is what I always say, never too many—“
“—well yes, Mr. Malfoy, your generous donation was used in the management—“
Scorpius hated them, but not nearly as much as he hated himself.
Another rushing surge of anger hit him, tinged with guilt, embarrassment, confusion.
What an ass he was. What a complete and utter knave he had made of himself.
In some ways, he would like to think that he had been protecting her from the harsh criticism of his mother, but, all chivalry aside, he knew that his motives had been mainly selfish. Had Rose been seen by his mother, she would throw a fit, a fit which Scorpius had no desire for Rose to see. It would’ve been a silent fit, with condescending glares, and that judging purse of the lips. Had Rose been subject to all of that, she would have definitely stayed away from him…and he definitely couldn’t bear that.
Not that this was any different, he reflected, feeling suddenly worse.
He doubted she would even talk to him after this whole episode.
“Calamari?” One of the servers was holding the tray before him, looking nervous that he had just interrupted Scorpius’ train of thought.
Scorpius took a piece, and, rising from the settee where he had been sitting, made his way through the crown of people to the doors out of the dining room.
He pretended not to see his father’s keen eyes demanding his presence in the room; he pretended not to see Hallie’s family, who he most definitely should have greeted.
The silence outside of the dining room was relieving, and he made his way to the west wing sitting room, plopping down on one of the grand chairs before the roaring fire.
His head fell into his hand, an angry and annoyed sigh escaping him.
The kiss covered his thoughts and made his stomach swoop. He had been trying to not think about it for nearly the last three hours with no success. And then…the closet? He mentally slapped himself.
At the same time, a feeling of intense hope occasionally peeked through. It hadn’t just been him—it was mutual. She kissed him back. The frustrating part about it was that now, anytime he thought of her, he saw her as she had been-- swollen lips, wild hair, eyes impossibly bright.
Great. Just an absolutely fantastic image when he was trying to talk himself out of her.
Leaping out of his chair, he spun around to see who it was. Hallie, of course.
“Oh,” he said, relieved, “you scared me.”
Hallie smiled, pushing her pretty long hair back from her face and sitting down on the chair next to his.
“Apology accepted,” Scorpius said, settling back down into his chair.
The crackling of the fire filled the silence for a moment.
“So why have things been so weird with us lately? Is anything wrong?” Hallie asked suddenly.
“Oh.” Scorpius said, no emotion claiming his voice. “It’s fine, really.”
“I really did have a lot of fun at the ball, you know.” She said.
“Yeah, me too.” Scorpius said hesitantly.
“Thanks for taking me.”
Another trickle of guilt dripped inside of Scorpius. “I’m sorry I wasn’t very much in the party mood.”
“Oh, no, it’s alright.” A sparkly smile snaked its way onto her face, “Another time perhaps?”
“Er…yeah.” Scorpius hedged.
Her smile became a little less sparkly. “Unless you’re seeing someone, of course?”
A pang of regret hit Scorpius. No, technically, he wasn’t. Unfortunately.
He hadn’t even said anything before she spoke again. “Ah. I see. You want someone.”
“I suppose you could put it like that.” Scorpius frowned.
“So who is it?” Hallie asked, and he noted a dangerous tone take place in her voice.
“Oh, it doesn’t matter really…she despises me.” Well, that last part was true, anyway.
He had yet to come up with a plan of action on returning to school. He imagined that she must’ve been pretty mad…he could just imagine her climbing into the fireplace; grabbing the floo powder…she was so angry that she forgot her clothes, and left wearing his.
Hallie broke his train of thought.
“I’m sure,” Hallie said, her voice soaked in sarcasm. “You’re Scorpius Malfoy. You can have anyone you want. You’re literally the most popular boy in the school.”
“She doesn’t care about popularity.” Scorpius sighed.
Hallie looked as if she didn’t believe that one bit. She stood.
“Well, I’ll find out who she is one way or another.” Her tone implied a threat. This amused Scorpius slightly. “And if you need any help, you can come to me.”
“See you at school.” He said to her back as she walked away.
The sound of her footsteps quieted until he couldn’t hear them anymore and was left only with his emotions and the occasional image of Rose wearing his boxers, Rose smiling, Rose with swollen lips, Rose sitting on the bathroom counter.
He wondered what she was doing right now.
“I say, Rosie, are you feeling unwell?”
Nana Molly clambered over to feel her forehead.
“Just tired, Nana, I didn’t sleep well.” Rose sighed. She wasn’t even lying; the night was partly filled with sleepless flailing and getting impossibly tangled in the sheets, and the other part was filled with blurry dreams where she searched for Scorpius in King’s Cross station, wearing this hat with a really big feather…
Oh well, just more proof that she was probably insane.
Nana Molly bustled off, probably to make tea, or something. Dom, who sat on the chair opposite of Rose, cast a sympathetic look. Rose had told Dom everything, which was unusual. Rose had a sneaky suspicion that Dom had slipped some veritaserum into her tea last night…or maybe Rose had actually felt messed up about it enough to want to talk about.
Anyway, Rose didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Going over it once was disturbing enough.
“And you’re sure it was his idea to put you in the closet?” Dom had asked, “I mean, maybe you went there yourself, just freaking out in the moment and all…”
And then on the kiss.
“So he didn’t even really say anything? He just…kissed you?” Dom had asked, her dreamy veela eyes as wide as saucepans, “How long did it go?”
Rose had laughed slightly, “I’m not really sure…it just sort of happened…er….”
Which was followed by Dom making her act out the kiss…
And that was all.
Rose smiled a bit at Dom, not wanting her to worry.
Dom just shook her head knowingly.
It was Christmas Eve, and dinner was fantastic. The meal was a joint collaboration of Nana Molly and the Potter’s cook, and turned out to be the perfect combination.
Seated with Lucy between Al and James, Rose listened amusedly to their conversation.
“Mate, I swear, if Chudley Cannons don’t win this year, I’ll off myself…” James was saying as some gravy dribbled down his chin, gesturing with his fork that had a piece of turkey attached to it.
“Don’t be so dramatic, James,” Lily scolded affectionately.
“Y’know that Helga chick in Hufflepuff?” Al said back to James, a bit of cranberry sauce stuck to his chin, “She knows their new keeper, whatzis name, Gregory or something, says he’s wicked…”
Wow. These Potter boys have superb dining table etiquette.
“She’s probably lying, Al, sorry to break it to you, but she’s muggle born and probably wouldn’t know him,” Dom said tartly. Rose distantly remembered a boyfriend of Dom’s from third year had broken up with her for Helga. Rose laughed.
The night was enjoyable, and the chaos kept Rose’s mind contained and unstraying.
And all too soon, it was Chirstmas morning, and everyone was sitting in their pajamas in the living room with frighteningly huge piles of presents. Rose was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire with a cup of hot chocolate.
When she had returned to the Potters after the Malfoy mansion fiasco, Rose hadn’t been sure what to do with his clothes. She also realized that she had left her own clothes behind, which embarrassed her very much. She had started to remove the socks, only to realize that she only had one of his socks on. One must’ve fallen off somewhere in her scramble from the wardrobe to the fireplace…
She had pulled off the boxers quickly before anyone could barge into the room and ask what she was doing wearing men’s boxers, and had stuffed them to the bottom of her trunk. When she got to the shirt, she had hesitated. Anger made her want to rip it off and burn it, and yet….she couldn’t. It was soft. And smelled…the way he smelled.
And now, sitting in front of the fire with her big family, wearing Scorpius’s shirt under her sweater, she felt a tinge of internal satisfaction. A little secret.
She also felt exceedingly pathetic.
“Rose, Errola just brought this…it has your name on it, anyway.” Hugo was thrusting a package at her, looking annoyed.
“What do you keep on smirking about, anyway?” He asked suspiciously. Rose just studied the tag that was still left on his new Chudley Cannons shirt.
She stuck her tongue out at him, took the package, and watched him return to his place on the couch between Roxanne and Al.
Rose had been so caught up in things lately that she had barely spoken to Al. She still wondered what the situation was between he and Lucy…she was clearly, pathetically in love with him, but did he even know that she existed? Had he returned any of her sentiments? Rose had been feeling guilty this morning, especially when it came to her friends. She hadn’t even really been there for Lucy…and she still hadn’t gotten the full story from Amanda about Rob. Anything between Dom and Alex had burned out…Rose tried to summarize anything else that could be going on outside of her personal bubble.
What a selfish person she was, really. Sigh.
Everyone else was busy unwrapping presents, and when Rose was sure no one was looking, she examined the package. It was brown paper, with just her name written across the front. Glancing up to make sure no one was watching, she carefully ripped the top of the package open.
It was her clothes, and….one sock.
The whole symptom thing happened; crazy elevated heart beat, throbbing ears, blood rushing to her face, her hysterical laugh caught in her throat.
Was this an apology? There was no note.
Or was he just trying to return her clothes, and be done with it? Have nothing else to do with her, the closet girl?
This brought on a whole new phase of psychoanalysis.
The Christmas break ended, and all too soon, everyone was standing in the Potter’s hall, hugging and talking, stalling before flooing through the large fireplace. Percy’s crew had already left, as had Fleur and Bill, and Nana Molly and Grandad Arthur were giving their last hugs before stepping into the fire.
And all too soon, Rose, Hugo, Al, James, Dom, Louis, and Lily had arrived in Neville’s fireplace back at Hogwarts, dragging their trunks back to their dormitories.
Hugo broke off from the group first to go meet with some of his friends, and Rose didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had a generous, mother-given lipstick prink on his cheek.
James snorted after Hugo walked away, shaking his head. “Poor kid…”
After unpacking in the dormitory, Rose and Dom met up with Amanda and Lucy, and went downstairs to lunch. While they walked, Dom briefed Amanda and Lucy on the most recent Malfoy incident. Rose attempted to tune their gasps and exclamations out, and focused instead on trying to calm down a little bit.
Rose had been hesitant about telling them, but Dom had insisted, and now, walking into the great hall, they made a sort of protection ring around her, and for that she was grateful. Amanda gave her a sympathetic squeeze as they sat down, and Lucy gave her a shadow of a smile. Dom made sure that Rose sat facing away from the Slytherin table.
Al plopped down across from her with his usual following of people gathering around him.
“Hey mates, pass the tomato sauce,” he said, already dishing up.
In her new effort to be less self-absorbed, Rose shot a sly glance at Lucy to see how she was handling Al’s sudden arrival. Alright, perhaps it hadn’t been that sly.
Lucy glanced back at her, looking confused.
“What, Rose?” She said quietly.
“You, me, breakfast date tomorrow, walk around the lake.” Rose said, smiling.
Lucy nodded, and again, she squeezed her hand.
Rose tried to join the conversation, which focused on the upcoming Hogsmead trip in three weeks.
Rose suddenly thought of Malfoy, and wondered if he would be going. As she had for the last ten minutes, she fought the urge to turn and search for him in the crowded hall. Did he look as messed up as she felt? Would he be looking for her too?
But no, she would not succumb. At least for another ten minutes, hopefully by which she and her friends would leave.
Okay, so, she only made it two, but two is better than none, right?
She turned, her heart pounding, eyes quickly scanning across the Slytherin table.
It was instantly evident that he wasn’t there. A wave of disappointment fell over her. Why wasn’t he there?
But, he would be here tomorrow, right? Seriously, classes started tomorrow, and…
Rose realized that she was doing that self-consolation thing again.
She could wait until tomorrow, couldn’t she?
But what was she even waiting for?
“Rose,” Dom said to her. She was already standing. “Let’s go.”
Dom helped Rose off the bench, put an arm around her, and they walked slowly from the hall, Lucy and Amanda trailing arm in arm beside them.
“It’ll be fine.” Dom consoled. “You don’t even have to deal with him today...or ever, if you don’t want to.”
“So now what?” Rose asked.
“It’s therapy time.” Amanda announced, a mischievous glint in her eye, “Meaning, eat some chocolate cake, and then we find some pictures of him to burn, egg his dorm room, and then we get a bucket of centipedes, dump---”
//AN:// Okay, sorry for such a long wait...AND such a bad chapter...just needed to fill the space, y'know?
What do people think should happen next? What are you expecting to happen next? Is Rose being a crazy psyco drama queen? Should Scorpius get a tatoo on his face? Do you want more badly written kissing scenes?? [:
Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you review!!! They are literally the highlight of my life. They seriously keep me going!Pleasepleaseplease review! And I love criticism, if anyone has any of that to give...
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