Chapter 4 : Rose by webeta123
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Once we got to Hogwarts, he tried to flip over the boat, but again, my idiotic bookworm of a cousin stopped him from doing it. The blonde boy in question also didn’t want to get his school clothes wet, so we went about our business.
The blonde boy’s sorting was very obvious the moment he sat down on that three footed stool. The hat quickly proclaimed Slytherin, I rolled my eyes, we moved on with the process. Nothing all that confusing or hard.
Albus’s (said dumb cousin if you couldn’t tell) sorting was just as obvious. The hat called out Gryffindor, the Potter gene in him shining through, I clapped politely, and we continued on with the very boring process. My legs were starting to get tired by the time I finally got up to the stool and it was my turn to have my head covered by the dusty brown hat.
Hmm…now let’s see. Weasley blood flows strong in you I see, but perhaps you are different than your parents, hmm? Want to show the world what you can do? You are very calculating and have a fair bit of cunning in you. Yes, there is not a doubt in my mind that your true Home should be
Wait, what? I numbly got up and walked to the far left table, murmurs and questions flying as the last of my year were Sorted. Perhaps it was the shock that heightened everything, making it oh so real. How many Weasleys could say they were in Slytherin? Probably enough to fill one hand
“Hi there. I don’t think we got off on the right foot.” The boy that had both insulted my family and almost ruined my ride to the actual school was now introducing himself to me? Talk about irony. “The name’s Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy. What’s yours?” He asked with a cheeky grin.
“Rose Weasley.” I said blankly, trying to put as much ice into my voice as possible. Perhaps I would get lucky and he would leave me be. He soon realized that I was not going to tell him anything else, so he turned to a couple of upperclassmen and struck up a conversation with them.
As anyone with a couple of brain cells to rub together could tell, we all went down to the Slytherin Common rooms once the feast was over, my father’s stories of the room as dark and draft as a cell in Azkaban wafting into my memory.
However, when I walked in, I found the common room kind of…cool. The windows above the common room streamed in a constant light of green, sending the room into a sort of feeling I had gotten when my family had gone to that muggle aquarium. We walked down the ornate marble stairs and into the actual common room, where the black granite fireplaces crackled almost cheerfully. The main Prefect introduced himself as the Head Boy Carlstrone and if there was any trouble to come see him or their Head of House, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor by the name of Malstream. He reminded us that this was a very prestigious house, with stereotypes and almost automatic hatred coming with the title of a Slytherin student. With that, the boy turned on his heel and went out the door, most likely to the Head Boy and Girl commons. Once the school had been redone after the Battle of Hogwarts, many of the designers had decided that since the students who were selected as Heads were obviously qualified for this title, they probably deserved a private section for themselves to decide on different things like schedules and such. However, this isn’t all that important to the story, so I’ll move on.
He was just as smart as me, making him a competitor. My father’s words of beating him at every test were ringing in my ears for my first test in Potions. My face broke into a grin when the Potions Master gave me an O for the perfect replication of a Cheerfulness potion while he got a lowly E+.
It was after that class that made our friendship even more concreted. When I was walking out of the Potions lab, my red hair swinging as I skipped, I was tripped, my skirt coming up over my waist. I hastily pulled it over my cotton panties, my face a bright pink. I turned, almost expecting Scorpius to be standing there with a smug smirk. Instead there were two older Gryffindor boys, both of them with malicious grins on their faces. “Hey Greg, look. It’s a new Slytherin firstie. It looks like she needs to be put in her place.” The bulkier one of the two said as the two of them surrounded me.
“You couldn’t be more right about that Mark. What do you think we should do first? Wipe that look like she’s so much better than us look off her face, or maybe run her up the Astronomy Tower by her little skirt?” Okay, I would be lying if I said I was not scared for my life. These were the type that my dad warned me about, yet he had said that such bullies were confined to Slytherin. Apparently he was wrong there.
“Hey! What are you guys doing?!” A new voice proclaimed. The bullies and I did one of those probably-never-going-to-happen-again simultaneous looks down the hallway to my supposed savior. There in the hallway was Scorpius, his wand drawn and him obviously trying to be a foot taller than he actually was at that point.
“Ha. Look Greg, it’s a blonde knight in green.” The one called Mark cooed. “Let’s show this guy what’s what.” And so my blonde knight in green got beaten to a pulp, with me desperately trying to stop them by digging my primly trimmed nails into their backs until they let him go and the bell rang to signal the next class rotation.
I walked Scorpius to the Infirmary, smiling softly at his heroic actions, however misplaced. In the end of the matron’s examination, the blonde got out of the fight with a black eye, a detention for fighting, and a scratch on his cheek that might have been my doing to show off.
Over the next three years, both of us stuck to each other like glue, fighting off the idiotic Gryffindors that thought they were so much better than us and the stereotypes that came our House status. I made the Slytherin Quidditch team as a Beater, my partner in crime one of the other girls in our house by the name of Maria. Both of us dominated the pitch, smacking bludgers this way and that, usually with the intent of hitting the nearest Gryffindor. It probably helped that we could spend the entire night planning out our strategies over a bowl of popcorn and a few butterbeers. The Gryffindor’s beaters were a boy and girl, this being a definite disadvantage on their part.
It should probably be noted that my father never came to a game, even though he had promised that if I were to ever get on a Quidditch team at school he would.
Either way, once we were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, things got…interesting. My first date into Hogsmeade had been with Maria, Scorpius and Albus all around. All of us were laughing and exploring the newest joy of our Hogwarts experience when we decided to take a peek into Digger’s Alley, the less desirable side of Hogsmeade. Albus had hung back, a bit unsure of the place. We teased him mercilessly about it later, all of us scaring the bejeebus out of him when we walked out with fake blood covering our bodies and Scorpius holding a fake ear in his hand, this also covered with fake blood. It wasn’t all that bad, but maybe we just have strong stomachs. There were some things in that place I would rather not recount.
Anyway, later that evening Scorpius began to act kind of screwy. He was running his hands through his hair, a nervous habit that I found amusing. He was biting at his nails, another one of his habits. He took a seat next to me and began to murmur about a girl that he liked and how he didn’t know how to tell her and that sort of thing that I honestly had no idea about. That was when I decided to run up to my room, suddenly remembering the History of Magic homework that I needed to get done.
It would be another two years before I would realize why I had done this. I didn’t want to hear about his new girlfriend and how she was so amazing and perfect. It was no more than he wanted to hear about my boyfriend, Marcus Matthews, a Ravenclaw with blonde hair and green eyes that could melt me on the spot. After a year of dating and kissing the boy, I realized that I didn’t hold the same level of feelings for him as he did, so I broke up with him.
In sixth year, the relationship between me and Scorpius was still in that rut known as the friend zone. I realized that he was not the same cocky son of a jerk I had met first year. Sure, he was still cocky, still a bit jerkish, but he had grown into someone that many of the younger girls swooned for. His blonde hair he had grown out to just below his ears, his brown eyes that apparently he had gotten from his mother sparkled with mirth and had that just right color of chocolate in them that made me eat about a fourth of my weight in the stuff just to sleep comfortably at night without dreaming of them, disembodied and fully bodied if not fully clothed. I wouldn’t learn until later that Scorpius had the exact same dreams except with me as the main person. However, both of us weren’t willing to get over our pride and our worries that our mutual feelings were not there to actually get our act together and get together (that’s in
the words of my cousin, who isn’t quite as idiotic).
It was that summer that concreted what would be the framework of our relationship. One warm summer night, I had been writing Scorpius a letter about something when my father barged into my room, his face completely red. Apparently he had intercepted all of the correspondence between me and Scorpius and was dead tired of reading of a Weasley actually being sociable with a Malfoy of all people. He demanded that I quit my writing to him and basically give up the one person who took care of me and made sure I was safe. Sure, Hugo did a decent job, but he was my brother and he was basically required to do that. If you couldn’t guess, I refused and he got even angrier. He proclaimed that if I weren’t going to obey him, I was not a part of this family anymore. I happily agreed, knowing from the moment I was placed in Slytherin that I was not the cookie cutter Weasley.
So, as fast as any up and coming seventh year could, I packed all of my things and moved out of my childhood home, deciding to go the one place my father would never look. I Apparated to Malfoy Manor and slowly knocked on the door, unsure if I would be welcomed. I was greeted by a sleepy, shirtless, and green fuzzy house shoes wearing Scorpius. He snapped awake when he realized that I was in fact there and he wasn’t just sleepwalking again (he had had that problem since first year when he awoke to be ankle deep in the Black Lake with no recollection of how he had gotten there). He ushered me into his house, making sure that we stayed silent as we walked by his parent’s bedroom. As we walked into his room, I was surprised at the warm atmosphere he had created.
There was definitely a Slytherin theme in the room. The walls were a deep green with a western facing window where we could see the moon shining down on us. The bed was also deep green with silver threading. The curtains for the room were dark silver, the moon’s beam reflecting off the silver and casting the room into a contrast of the darkest of dark and a bright light. His bed was positioned in such a way that he would wake up with the sun, where the eastern window that could be seen from the front of the manor. He showed me the bathroom and let me change as he got back into bed himself, obviously not expecting me to come out in my black tank top and a pair of green gym shorts and climb into the bed with him.
It was odd to lie beside him, his arms carefully placed around my waist and our foreheads placed against each other, pure chocolate meeting dark blue. Our legs were wrapped around each other as two snakes would.
Before you ask, no, we did not make love that night. At least, not physically. I let tears flow at the disappointment that my father had placed upon me, the thought of my no longer being his daughter placing a heavy blow onto my heart. He didn’t push me away, he held me close and stroked my hair and let me cry myself into exhaustion and a fitful sleep. Before I succumbed to sleep, I felt a warm something press gently against my lips and I might have responded.
The next morning, his mother’s shrill scream woke us both; obviously the sight of her son holding a strange woman in his bed was confusing her. His father came in, his wand bared as though he expected a group of burglars to be in the room. Once he realized the situation and he gave me a once over, he gave me one question, “You’re Weasley’s kid?”
“Yes sir.” I said awkwardly, unwrapping myself from Scorpius and sitting up.
Rather than make a comment about that, he smirked just like his son and stated, “I’m sure your father’s not happy about it. But my discrimination of the Weasley clan has slowly been destroyed because of all of the things that Weasley’s done both for my family and for me.” He raised his hands in the air as though in defeat. “Just use protection alright? I’d rather not have to be a grandfather before my time and especially if it’s going to be a fourth of Ron Weasley’s blood.” He warned. Both of us blushed a heavy red and I cursed my red headed nature. “Now let’s all go down to breakfast. Fletcher is making omelets.” With that, the senior Malfoy turned on his heel and walked out the door, his emerald dressing gown flaring out.
“Well that was probably the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened in this family.” Scorpius stated. “And that includes the time I walked in on my parents…you know.” He said, giving me a significant look to tell me just what he was talking about. Just when I thought my blush couldn’t get any redder, he went and said that and made it worse.
“Come on, our house elf makes the best omelets anywhere.” He continued, pulling on a silken green dressing gown over his lean frame. I slowly got up from the bed and went to my truck to pull out my own gown, a soft red that my parents had sent right before they got Hugo’s letter about my true sorting.
“Wow, way to show house pride.” Scorpius said sarcastically.
“Oh shut up Scorp, my parents gave it to me.”
“When you were eleven?” He asked, smirking at my too short sleeves.
“Yes.” I said shortly.
His smirk fell and he slowly walked backwards until he was in the hallway that leads to the stairs which went to the main floor. He gave a hesitant laugh before turning and running down the hallway. I laughed myself before running after him, both of us laughing with glee as though we were three year olds playing tag.
And so started one of the most amazing summers of my life. At my house, my mum would always yell at me and my brother if we so much as walked faster than a snail. In the manor, as long as we were outside and were leaving Fletcher alone, we were free to run as fast as our legs could carry us. This came in handy when we were playing chase or racing, something both of us loved to do. There were many times when Scorpius tackled me onto the ground, his body hovering over my own, when I wanted very much to do so much more, but I held back. I gave him a single kiss, got back up and raced away.
When school started again, Hugo acted as though I weren’t even a part of his family. He would ignore me and basically act as though I didn’t exist. It hurt the first time, but with all of the duties that came with being Head Girl I didn’t have much time to focus on it. Also, before you ask, no, Scorpius wasn’t the Head Boy to my Head Girl status. It was a Hufflepuff boy by the name Matthew Brown. I think he might have been related to one of my dad’s old flames. We were on speaking terms at least, nothing more or less to Scorpius’s intense joy.
My parents didn’t have any correspondence with me that year for the first time. It was rather odd to not have a letter come for me, only Hugo. It hurt a lot, but I tried to throw myself into Quidditch and NEWTs instead. With all of the studying I had to do and with the practices I did, I didn’t really worry about my parents, even at Christmas when I stayed at Hogwarts.
When my final year came to a close and I was on the Hogwarts Express for the last time, Scorpius did something completely unexpected. Whilst we were in a compartment with a few returning second years, with my head in Scorpius’s lap, we talked about little nonsense things that really had no sort of matter. Near the end of the last trip on the train, my boyfriend began to act like he had in third year. He began to squirm and running his hand through his hair, a habit that I found rather endearing rather than simply amusing. “What is it Scorpius?” I asked, sitting up and looking at him dead in the eye.
“I…” He took a few deep breaths and started his statement again. “Rose…I love you. You have to know that by now.” I did. He told me almost every day since we got together last year. “And…you’re my best friend. We’re different but we’re the same at the same time. Does that make sense? Anyway, I’ve been thinking about this for a while and I’ve come to the conclusion that…I want to spend the rest of my days with you. And…well, I wanted to ask you.” Scorpius got off of the seat and down on one knee to the second year’s coos and awws. “Would you-“ The train slammed to a halt, screeching on the railroad and into the King’s Cross station, sending Scorpius flying into the other seat opposite of me and completely off balance.
“Alright, this isn’t working.” Scorpius proclaimed as he got up and shooed the younger students out of the compartment. “Rose, marry me?” He asked, pulling the ring out of his pocket and opening the box. The box held a diamond surrounded by miniscule emeralds on all sides, the diamond catching every sort of light.
“Scorpius…I…I don’t know what to say.” I said, extremely shocked.
“Well there’s a preferred answer that has three easy letters to it.” He said with that cocky smirk that he had given me in first year, almost bringing our story full circle.
It’s almost funny how it happened.
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