Chapter 1 : Star-crossed lovers and all that jazz
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“SCORPIUS NO WAY, YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT, YOU KNOW THIS IS MEANT TO BE AN EFFING SECRET!” Rose shrieked, slapping him across the face to demonstrate her feisty ways. She’s feisty because she’s a redhead, naturally, and apparently there is no such thing as a calm ginger. “MY PARENTS WILL EFFING KILL ME!”
“BUT I LOVE YOU! I CAN’T KEEP THIS SECRET ANYMORE! I DON’T CARE WHAT MY FATHER WILL SAY, BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY HE DISAPPROVES BECAUSE WHERE IS THE DRAMA OTHERWISE?”
“MY FATHER ALSO DISAPPROVES!” Rose replied, no longer shrieking but whispering in a heartbreaking, tragic manner, but The Author is having far too much fun writing in capitals to stop now. “BUT MY MOTHER IS PERFECTLY UNDERSTANDING, PROBABLY BECAUSE SHE’S SHAGGING YOUR DAD, SEXY, PREMATURELY-BALDING BEAST THAT HE IS!”
“MARRY ME ROSIE!” Scorpius yelled, fighting his way across the hall towards her, punching the hordes of outraged Weasley/Potter males out of his path.
“OF COURSE! THEN THE YEARS OF ANIMOSITY BETWEEN OUR FAMILIES WILL END AND EVERYONE WILL FORGET THAT YOUR DAD WAS A RACIST, GREASY-HAIRED LOSER! YAY!”
This is essentially the gist of the story, but The Author needs to pad it out in order to meet the word limit for the chapter. Therefore The Author inserts a flashback to show that Scorpius’s proclamation of love is heartfelt and is not as random as it may appear – he and Rose have history.
“Merlin, she’s hot,” Scorpius thought. He was the resident player of Slytherin house despite being greasy-haired, ferret-faced, arrogant and condescending and coming from a family of criminals, and therefore was having said oily locks stroked by Moonbeam Zabini who was WAY out of his league but desperate to shag him because The Author wants him to be hot even though the canon chances of that are pretty much zero, and believes this is the best way to demonstrate this fact.
Anyway, so Scorpius was thinking “She’s hot.” Alas, he isn’t talking about desperate and available Moonbeam Zabini who is stroking his oily – I mean silky – platinum hair. Rose Weasley has just walked into the potions dungeon (he’s a Slytherin, it’s only appropriate that he has epiphanies while in potions) and Scorpius has only just realised that she is irresistibly attractive despite having known her for almost half his life. She probably just got really hot over the summer, because that happens in Real Life all the time, or maybe she just transferred from a school in Fiji that no one has ever heard of before. Yes, that makes much more sense.
Either way, Scorpius is seeing Rose in a totally new light, and not only because Professor Snape has finally splashed out and bought new electric lava-lamps for the dungeons. (No, not that Snape. Even The Author has realised he died in DH. This is his daughter, clearly, because obviously he secretly had one and she just happened to be into potions too. The Author is still in denial about Remus and Sirius, however, and so they will be brought back later in the story. They get to be resurrected because they are hot and Snape is not. Simple.)
Professor Snape (who’s supermegafoxyawesomehot by the way and not at all hook-nosed or sinister-looking, but doesn’t get her own plotline here because it will take up too much time) has decided that the next class project will be done in pairs. These pairs will of course be unlikely couplings, preferably between a boy and girl who hate each other, in order to create sexual tension, which is obviously what you want in a class full of teenagers who live together 24/7 but can’t ever have sex because they’re at school all the time and there’s nowhere convenient to do it, and besides, Peeves would totally swoop in on them, which would be gross.
“Malfoy and Weasley are going together for this utterly pointless and never-actually-explained assignment,” Professor Snape announces happily, swishing her gleaming tresses over her shoulder and crossing her legs seductively in a far-too-short-for-a-teacher skirt, but none of the boys are paying her any attention because, dear Merlin, she’s thirty and there’s an entire class of teenage girls at their disposal, each of whom is unrealistically attractive, with long, luscious hair, legs up to Merlin-knows-where and incredible breasts, save for a token obese, spotty Hufflepuff in the corner. “No, Rose Weasley, so sit down Molly, Lucy, Dominique, Roxanne, Lily, Lysander, Albus, James, and anyone else who wants to be shipped with him – this is a Scorose fic, ok?”
Scorpius jumps for joy (secretly – it wouldn’t be cool to do it for real and I think we’ve been through how he’s the Slytherin Prince. There’s one of these every year, apparently. They’re voted in – it’s all very democratic – unless there’s a Malfoy around, in which case obviously it’s them.) Rose, naturally, is not so happy – she has to at least pretend to be disgusted at this point because otherwise it can’t be a love/hate relationship.
“God, Malfoy, you’re so irritating,” she snaps, slamming her bag down on the desk as she reluctantly sits next to him, while he is fantasising about ripping open her blouse and ravishing her there and then. “I can’t believe we have to work together. Surely Snape knows we despise each other with a fierce and burning passion? Our well-known rivalry is second only to that of you and Albus. It’s only natural that you should have so many enemies, because, you know, you’re a Malfoy.”
“S-sorry,” Scorpius stammers, wondering how he had forgotten all this, her feistiness and utter hotness overpowering him and reducing him to a quivering, yet sensitive and devastatingly attractive, wreck.
(Moonbeam Zabini has by this point conveniently relocated without fuss to the opposite side of the dungeon so as not to get in the way of our young lovers, and now sits there glaring at Rose and plotting her painful death, while sobbing into the shoulder of James Potter, who is there for no reason other than that he, like Scorpius, is an unlikely sex-god and doesn’t mind taking advantage of a girl when she’s down.)
What follows is a lesson – an actual lesson because they are in school, you know – but this is far too dull for The Author to write about. It suffices to say that there is lots of sexual tension, Scorpius is utterly obsessed with Rose, who is completely oblivious to this fact and still despises him with every fibre of her being, and James Potter and Moonbeam Zabini have found solace in each other’s arms.
Several weeks/days/hours pass in which Scorpius’s burning passion grows in his chest, gnaws away at him from inside, etc, while Rose is unaware of the fact that he is drooling after her down the corridors.
*flash forward to declaration of undying love, because that’s a good bit*
“Rose [insert middle name here, preferably of dead relative/friend/pet] Weasley, you are the sole reason I live and breathe!” Scorpius tells her, down on one knee on the floor of the library, because Rose is a bookworm (it’s in her genes) and naturally spends all her time in the library when not captaining the Quidditch team, being Head Girl and snogging every boy in her year because she’s just that irresistible.
“Wow, Malfoy, this is totally unexpected!” Rose says, though gleefully because in fact she has been deeply in love with him for some months/minutes now and was just pretending to detest the very sight of him. “That’s really lovely! Thanks!”
“So you love me back?”
[insert Scenes of a Sexual Nature scene here]
*flash forward to argument, because they have to argue at some point otherwise how could they dramatically get back together at the end?*
“I hate you Rose Weasley!” Scorpius shouts, though quietly because it is the middle of the night and they are hiding in a very secret empty classroom that no one else knew about, because their relationship is a secret, remember?
“Well I hate you too Malfoy!”
“Why do you always have to call me Malfoy? I fricking hate it when you do that!”
“Force of habit – I’ve spent six years calling you that, because in the HP universe calling someone by their surname equates with strong dislike/hatred, remember?”
“Oh, and I suppose that’s MY fault, is it?”
“Why are we even arguing, anyway?”
“Well, let me take you back to Tuesday last, in this exact highly secret empty classroom, when, as I recall, you implied that my abs were something less than perfect.”
She rolls her eyes, because this is the only gesture human beings are able to perform when wanting to convey exasperation. “Oh Merlin/Poseidon/Circe, not this again.”
“Yes, this again. Why do you think I wasted all those years playing Quidditch if not for muscles like these? Seriously, check them out, they’re brilliant.” Scorpius whips off his shirt, and somewhere in the distance can be heard the sighs of several delusional fangirls.
“I’m alright, thanks.”
“Check out my freaking abs, Weasley.”
“Yes, yes, they’re very nice.”
“You could at least pretend to be impressed.”
“They’re a bit more Edward than Jacob, if you get my meaning.”
“I have it on good authority that they are pretty-darn-fabulous, thank you very much.”
“What?” In the midst of rolling her eyes yet again, Rose whips back around to face him, hair swishing dramatically, eyes welling with tears. “You mean someone else has been checking out your abs? Someone other than me?”
“I’m your girlfriend –”
“Actually, you’re not my girlfriend. You’re just one of a number of girls I like to string along, all in super-secret relationships, of course, because that’s just the way I roll.”
“WHAT?” she wails, wrenching at her garments, tearing out her hair, etc. “Who are these other girls?”
“Oh, let’s see... there’s your cousin Dominique, and Roxanne, and Lucy, as well as Antonia Goldstein and Terri Boot, Deana Thomas and Olivia Wood, Gregoria Goyle and Theodora Nott... Oh, and Albus Potter, of course. I like to keep my options open.”
“Oh dear Merlin!” Rose shouts. “And I thought I was a slut because I was seeing Alex Spinnet and Kieran Bell behind your back! I feel so betrayed! We are definitely breaking up, Scorpius Malfoy! I never want to see you again!” she howls, forgetting that they live in the same building so there is absolutely no way she can avoid seeing him at some point, and flees from the room, her fiery locks swishing behind her to signify that she is angry as well as sad, but mainly sad, shown by the fact that her over-the-top sobbing can be heard from down the corridor.
Scorpius is left alone in the super-secret classroom, over-the-top wails of woe now emanating from him too as he repents of his philandering, man-slut ways, though none of it is really his fault, of course – he can’t help being drop-dead gorgeous.
The Author would like to leave you with this pitiful, heart-wrenching picture of him, because he’s still the hero of the tale after all, and we know the pair of them get back together in the end anyway, so he must be a good guy really. Besides, The Author is still very much in love with him, so is physically incapable of being too harsh towards him.
*some time later*
“I’ve got some great news!” Professor McGonagall/Flitwick/Slughorn/some-other-teacher-who-should-clearly-be-dead-but-is-clinging-onto-life-in-order-to-be-headteacher announces at breakfast the next morning.
“Brilliant!” cries sexy Professor Snape Jr. “What?”
The Author takes a moment here to work out just what this great news is, as by now the plot is rather running away with itself. It has to be something that will allow our star-crossed lovers to reunite in a beautiful and dramatic way, but masquerade balls are way too cliché – goodness, one wouldn’t want to be accused of that! – and Quidditch matches are fun, but far too much effort to write.
The Author then remembers making promises about the return of everyone’s favourite super-smexy Marauders, Moony and Serious, and inspiration strikes.
“Well,” says Professor McGonwickhorn, “due to me being utterly brilliant, I have invented a spell that means we can bring back anyone we want from the dead, just for today and for no apparent reason whatsoever! Isn’t than fan-freaking-tastic??”
“Totally!” cries sexy Professor Snape. “How about my dear old dad?”
“I would really rather not, he did scare me just a little,” says Hagrid. The Author can’t be bothered to make any attempt to get his accent right, but hopes that no one will pick up on it. “How about James and Lily Potter, to reward them for the staggering contribution they made to our world and our lives?”
“God, Hagrid, you’re so predictable,” says Professor McFlickugorn. “I say Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, because it’s my spell and gosh-darn it, those boys were fine.”
“Totally!” cries sexy Professor Snape. “And we should have a ball to celebrate it!”
“Really, Severa, balls are so cliché,” Professor Mickugagwick scorns. “Try to be a little bit more original. How about a feast, but to make it different from the other fifty thousand feasts we have every year, there could be a chocolate fondue?”
“Oooh, sounds brill,” the sexy Professor cries.
“I am really not too sure about that,” Hagrid cautions. “You remember how Remus Lupin used to get around chocolate...”
But no one listens to Hagrid because he’s being boring, and a feast is planned for that evening.
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Rose is sobbing her eyes out, and even the attentions of the incredibly attractive Alex Spinnet and Kieran Bell cannot console her, despite their deep, captivating eyes so full of concern and their buff bods complete with superior-to-Scorpius abs.
In the Slytherin common room, Scorpius is not crying because it isn’t manly, and is instead having his silky locks stroked again by Moonbeam Zabini, who has decided to forgive him since James Potter hooked up with that hot American transfer student again and completely forgot she existed, because Jane Smith is just so hot and stylish and American and captures the heart of every man she meets.
Scorpius is crying inside, though, so it’s all ok.
Little do our star-crossed lovers know that in only a few hours time they will be reunited in a beautiful and dramatic way that The Author has yet to think up, but it will definitely be very dramatic and beautiful. And will somehow involve two dead Marauders, and a feast with a chocolate fondue.
Writing fanfiction is such hard work!
*at the feast that night*
“Wow, doesn’t it look pretty!” Rose exclaims to her BFF, Orchid, as they enter the Great Hall. The two are such good friends that she has not been mentioned until this point in the story. “I love the pink unicorns, that’s a really nice touch.”
“Like, totally!” Orchid beams.
“Just awesome!” Rose’s other bestie, Azalea, chimes in, not wanting to be left out. The pair of them speak in this stereotypically American fashion as a result of watching too much Friends, 90210 and the OC. The fact that they come from Norwich and Aberdeen respectively is irrelevant, as is the fact that all three shows finished before they were old enough to watch them. But never mind.
The seats begin to fill up, and Rose cannot help but cast her eyes over to the Slytherin table to catch a glimpse of Scorpius, to ascertain whether he is as heartbroken as she is, because of course these things can be seen quite clearly across a packed hall in the space of two seconds. She sees him sat with Theodora Nott and Olivia Wood (Moonbeam Zabini having been tossed aside yet again) and her heart begins to flutter like a crushed butterfly or disheartened moth or some other slightly mournful winged creature, and her eyes well with great fat tears that shimmer like diamonds or glaciers or sparkly nail polish. (The Author would like to assure all readers that her flawless eye makeup remains intact, however.) Orchid and Azalea pat her consoling on the back because they totally know the pain she’s in, and then all three turn their attention to Professor Mcslugaflick who is clearing his/her throat at the front of the hall.
“Boys and girls, teachers, house elves, and the pink unicorns Professor Snape insisted on including for no apparent reason,” he/she/it boomed across the hall. “Welcome to this super-duper-special feast! I hope you have all noticed the chocolate fountain in the corner – it was all my idea!”
There were resounding cheers from the Hufflepuffs who would be blandly enthusiastic about anything, a roar of approval from the Gryffindors (a roar? geddit?), with polite clapping from the Ravenclaws and a communal sniff of disdain from the Slytherin table.
Hagrid cleared his throat pointedly.
“All right, all right, Hagrid! Anyway, as I was saying, I have a very special reason for calling you all together tonight. Because I am an absolute genius and the greatest wizard since, you know, Dumbledore, I have invented a nifty little spell that will allow me to perform a pretty cool trick for you all.”
Rose, managing to tear her gaze from Scorpius and his harem of sluts, watched as Muckfligagull waved its wand dramatically, did a funny little dance on the spot, and then disappeared in a puff of orange smoke.
“Ooooh,” said the Hufflepuffs.
“Ahhhh,” said the Ravenclaws.
“I LOVE YOU ROSE WEASLEY!” Scorpius shouted suddenly, and this is the point at which you entered the story.
After that, a number of unlikely and ill-explained things all happened at once. The Potter-Weasleys males (especially a heartbroken Albus Severus) all swarmed across the hall as one in order to furiously challenge Scorpius to a duel; the Hufflepuffs started to panic while the Slytherins snuck out into the grounds for a nicotine fix; Professor Snape worried about what the orange fumes would do to her hair and while her back was turned the unsupervised pink unicorns began to escape; Orchid paired up with Kieran Bell and Azalea with Moonbeam Zabini; Sirius Black and Remus Lupin appeared out of nowhere looking rather confused as to why they weren’t dead anymore, before Remus leapt headfirst into the vat of chocolate and Sirius began scanning the place for a female of an appropriate age that he could alienate with his playboy ways; and...
... and The Author literally no longer has any idea what is going on.
The important thing is that our hero and heroine are finally in each other’s arms again, slowdancing romantically in the midst of all the mayhem, and are totally going to get a happily-ever-after.
“Love you, babes,” Rose whispered lovingly, not at all worried or perplexed by the chaos that was going on around her, although she did have to shout above all the noise. “I’m so glad you chose me above all those other girls you were secretly seeing behind my back.”
“So am I, doll,” Scorpius drawled, proceeding to snog her senseless.
And so (on a rather sudden note) ends this tale-not-of-woe,
of feisty Juliet, and her greasy-haired Romeo.
AND THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. THE END.
A/N: There are parts of this that are so random that I have literally no idea where they came from, and others that really have me worrying for my own sanity... I'm largely poking fun at myself and some of my older, scarily cliche stories, so hopefully I haven't offended anyone with it :P Oh, and it really did pain me to write Scorpius like this (in my mind he is nice. And hot. End of.) but I'm hoping I'll recover one day xD Hope you liked it!
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