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Chapter 23 : A Day To Remember
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I stare up at the suspiciously overly-white ceiling of the Delacours’ sixth spare bedroom, which I’m sharing with Dom and Lily, wondering if I’m ever going to fall asleep. I can see the whiteness very clearly now because the sun is coming up, but I’m yet to get one wink of sleep. I don’t even feel tired. Every time I look at my watch – or should I say, watches (I have them both on, one on my right arm and one on my left) – I find that another ten minutes have passed, then another twenty until eventually it’s seven o’clock. I feel sort of light-headed due to hunger and lack of sleep, but I just keep staring and staring at that white ceiling until eventually I decide to roll out of the bed and go for a walk.
I pull on an old pair of jeans that I have magically expanded and a plain white t-shirt and don’t even bother putting on shoes. It seems when you’re in the depths of depression and tiredness, shoes are fairly trivial items of clothing to remember to put on. I use the word depression – I’m not exactly depressed. You’d think I would be. You’d think that after everything that has happened in the last six months I’d be glued to my bed, not talking to anyone and painting emotional pictures of teenage girls crying, or occupied uteruses with angst-y captions like ‘Life is for Losers’. I’m not depressed. Well, not in the emo-ish way one would expect. I’m angry, confused and upset all at once, but depression can sometimes lead to a person not eating. And no force in this world could ever stop me from eating. It’s something to do with being a Weasley.
The house is peaceful and quiet, but it won’t be for much longer. Victoire is staying here on the top floor of the house, while Teddy is on the middle floor. Teddy is to go down for breakfast at twenty-five past nine, sharp, and then eat outside in the garden so that Victoire can come down for breakfast in the dining room at half nine. It’s so that they won’t see each other before the wedding, but I still find it kind of unfair that Teddy has to be banished to the garden on his wedding day. Then again, it is Victoire’s grandparents’ house. I suppose what she says goes.
I creep down the stairs as carefully as a semi-heavily pregnant person can creep. I hear distinct snoring coming from the room Dad is sharing with Uncle Charlie and it reminds me of better times when Mum used to cast silencing charms on Dad during the night to make him shut up. Then I hear noises from downstairs and begin to wonder who the hell has gotten up earlier than me.
I hear a man’s voice coming from the kitchen, but it’s unfamiliar. It’s definitely none of my uncles. I tiptoe down to the hall and grab the first sharp object I find – an umbrella – and brandish it as my only weapon as I make my way towards the kitchen. It’s a pity I didn’t think to carry my wand on me. I’m not used to the whole concept that I’m allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts now.
“Did you get the camera?” the man’s voice asks. I throw open the door of the kitchen.
“Don't move! I have a weapon and I’m not afraid to use it!” I cry. There are four people standing in the kitchen – a family of four, to be exact. The Scamanders. Lorcan drops his bag in shock, Lysander stares at me with a very relaxed expression, Rolf jumps and spins around to face me and Luna smiles dreamily.
“Hello Rose,” says Luna, apparently not caring that I’ve just shouted at her and threatened her with an umbrella. I must look like a complete psycho. Here I am, pointing a perfectly harmless umbrella at close friends of the family while wearing two watches. Then again, I shouldn’t honestly be too worried about looking weird in front of the Scamanders.
“H-hello,” I manage to stutter. I put the umbrella down, as Lorcan is beginning to look quite nervous.
“We’re not late, are we?” asks Rolf, Luna’s husband, picking up Lorcan’s bag and setting it down on the table. He then proceeds to go through it, looking for what I presume is the camera.
“Erm, no,” I say, “The wedding doesn’t start until this afternoon.”
“Oh,” says Luna, “Well then why don’t we all apparate to the beach and collect seashells?”
Although Rolf looks very excited at this prospect, Lorcan and Lysander look less than enthused. Having to endure the horrible sensation of side-along apparition just so they can collect seashells with their parents probably isn’t their idea of fun. Fishing in a Grindylow infested lake would be more their type of thing.
“Erm, why don’t you two go to the beach,” I suggest, “and I can show Lorcan and Lysander around…”
So I end up walking around the Delacour’s massive Parisian summer home (yes, it’s not their actual house, they usually live in Marseilles. I thought the Potters were rich…) showing Lorcan and Lysander every last corner, while Luna and Rolf head to the beach. It’s very dull. And I’m not exactly the world’s greatest tour guide.
“There’s a bedroom,” I say monotonously, “And another…and another…there’s a bathroom…and another bedroom…and another…”
I don’t know if they’re just putting it on, but they actually look interested.
“Do you two actually care about what I’m saying?” I yawn. I haven’t slept or eaten, yet here I am showing two teenage boys around a French country house.
“Not really,” Lysander admits, “But we’re used to pretending like we care about what people are saying.”
“It comes with living with our mum,” Lorcan adds.
Before I can respond to that, the door of the bedroom I’m sharing with Dom and Lily opens and Lily walks out, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She’s wearing her pyjamas and her red hair is extremely messed up. Lily’s not a morning person, so I’m guessing she’s just going to the bathroom or something –
“AH!” she screams when she sees me and – oh yeah, her boyfriend. “W-what are you doing here?” We’re not quite sure who she’s screaming at, as her hair is covering her face.
“Lily be quiet!” I warn, “You’ll wake Victoire!”
Or worse, Scorpius.
The door of the room Scorpius and Al are staying in opens. I’m ready to sprint into my own bedroom, but luckily it’s just Al, his black hair equally as messy as his sister’s.
“What’s all the screaming?” he asks groggily, “Alright Scamanders? Aren’t you a bit early?”
I shoo everyone downstairs so that we don’t run the risk of bumping into You-Know-Who (not that You-Know-Who). Lily returns to bed, clearly not caring that her boyfriend is here. Sleep before love and all that. Lorcan and Lysander head straight for the garden, probably to check out what weird magical creatures they can find out there. I doubt they’ll find anything. Maybe a Spiky-Backed-Garden-Ball (otherwise known as a hedgehog).
Al and I sit at the small table in the kitchen. He looks terrible. His green eyes aren’t half as energetic as usual and he looks like he hasn’t slept at all. Three guesses what’s bothering him.
“You don’t look good, Al,” I say, trying to make that sound as un-insulting (I know it’s not a word) as possible. He grunts in reply and stares out the glass sliding doors beyond where Lorcan and Lysander are climbing the massive oak tree. “This is about Jenny, isn’t it?”
“No,” he says far too quickly.
“You’re a really bad liar,” I say.
“I don’t care about her,” Al lies, “I just don’t feel well.”
“Shut up!” he snaps childishly.
“Al if you still like her –”
“Just if you do, maybe you should tell her. I’m sure she’s hurting just as much as you are.”
He continues to frown out the window. “I’m going for a walk,” he says and wanders off outside. I stay in the kitchen, watching Lorcan picking stuff up off the lawn and putting them in his pocket while Lysander hangs upside down from the oak tree. Seriously, he’s fourteen.
I end up drifting off at the kitchen table and am rudely awoken at nine o’clock by Nana Molly, Andromeda Tonks and Apolline Delacour rushing into the kitchen to start breakfast.
“Rose! What are you doing asleep down here?” Nana Molly asks, but doesn’t bother waiting for an answer, “Will you set the table in the dining room please? Are those the Scamander twins on top of the shed?”
I grab the cutlery and grudgingly head into the dining room to set the table. I’m actually tired now, and I feel that if I did have the chance to lie down again I’d probably fall straight asleep. Fat chance of that happening now. And this isn’t like setting your normal six-seater table – we’re talking thirty. It’s like a conference table.
More and more people start coming down for breakfast. The first down are Mum, Angelina, Ginny and Audrey who help with the cooking, while George and Percy sit at the table, waiting to be served.
“Oi!” I snap at them, “Your breakfast isn’t going to just grow legs and walk over to you. Go help!”
They look very frightened of me and jump to it, and I distinctly hear George say “sorry Mum,” in a sarcastic voice.
“I heard that!”
At twenty five past nine sharp Teddy appears in the kitchen looking blissfully happy and I feel a mixture of jealousy and guilt at the sight of him. Of course we barely have a chance to exchange two words, as Nana Molly and Mrs Tonks grab him and banish him out to the garden. Harry, being the caring godfather (and Best Man) he is, joins him out there. Five minutes later exactly, Victoire comes downstairs for breakfast. Personally, I think they’re taking these silly superstitions a bit too far.
“Morning all!” Victoire calls happily. Plenty of people smile and beam at her, but Dom throws herself down on the chair beside me and starts shovelling sausages into her mouth. How the hell does she stay so skinny?
“If I die before this day is out, promise me you’ll bury my wand with me,” says Dom darkly. She seems just about as keen on this wedding as I am, though I’m guessing for different reasons. “Have you seen our dresses yet?”
“No,” I say, now feeling sort of frightened. Surely they can’t be that bad. However, I don’t have the chance to ask her just how bad they are, because Scorpius enters the room. It seems strange that there can be so much awkwardness and tension in one room, even though only two people in the room can feel it. I’m presuming he’s feeling awkward, as he won’t even look at me. He just sits down beside Al (who still isn’t talking to anyone) and they both sit there looking extremely moody. Already I can tell this isn't going to be a fun day.
Luna and Rolf arrive back at the house in the middle of breakfast, Luna wearing a new necklace she has fashioned from seashells. Rolf is carrying a rather large bag of more seashells. They’re a strange couple, our Rolf and Luna. However, now that there are so many people in the dining room, nobody finds it strange that Scorpius and I aren’t speaking.
At a quarter past ten, James (the last to wake up) arrives down for breakfast, by which stage Nana Molly, Fleur and Madame Delacour have whipped away all off the food. James isn’t even dressed – he’s wearing his boxers and a pair of white socks. It’s not a very pretty sight I can tell you.
“Oh Christ,” Dom mumbles and immediately covers her eyes.
“Try sharing a dorm with him,” says Fred darkly, and Mark nods in agreement.
“James, do you have to embarrass us everywhere we go?” Ginny snaps angrily, “Could you not even put on a pair of jeans?!”
“Chillax Mum,” he yawns, scratching his bare stomach, as if he has fleas or something, “What’s for breakfast?”
“Breakfast was at half nine!” says Nana, bustling into the dining room, pointing her wand at the table and making it clean itself, “It’s now ten-seventeen! Time to start getting ready!”
“What? But the wedding isn’t ‘til this after –”
“Upstairs now, James!” Ginny demands, “And for the love of God put on some clothes!”
Ginny chases her eldest son up the stairs, and he shouts and swears the whole way about how he’s starving hungry and this can be considered child abuse, denying him a basic human right.
“I’ll show you child abuse if you don’t get up those stairs James Potter!” Ginny screams at him and we hear him run faster. Seriously, that woman is terrifying.
After breakfast, Nana Molly begins assigning jobs to everyone.
“Victoire, go upstairs so Teddy can come inside; George, Percy, Charlie and Ron, begin setting up the chairs in the marquee; Rose and Dominique, go upstairs with Victoire and start getting ready; Louis, Hugo, Lily, Roxanne and Lucy, help Andromeda with the food; Audrey, Angelina, Hermione and Ginny, finish the decorating; Fred, Mark, Scorpius, Albus and James – whenever he decides to grace us with his presence! – make sure the yard is clean and then help setting up the chairs! Jump to it everyone! Oh, Luna and Rolf, will you come with me, I need you to de-gnome the garden…”
We all know better than to disobey a direct order, so we, in Nana Molly’s words, ‘jump to it’ immediately. Dom and I follow a very hyper Victoire up the stairs to the third floor and into her room. On the way up we pass James’s room, where Ginny is pulling a t-shirt over his head.
“I can dress myself, I’m eighteen!” he’s shouting.
“Obviously you can’t dress yourself!” she shouts back, “Hurry up! You have to help set up!”
“But I’m hungry –”
“You should have gotten up earlier!”
Victoire’s room is even more extravagant than the one I’m sharing with Dom and Lily. It’s about three times as big, with a balcony and baby pink walls. There are random paintings of the countryside, and some pictures of Aunt Fleur’s family dotted around the place. Victoire’s dress is hanging up on the door leading out to the balcony and I have to admit, it’s beautiful. She’s going to look like a princess – and I’m going to look like a blimp. Such is life.
We have our showers; Dom first, then me and then Victoire. By the time we’re finished, Victoire’s friend Dina has arrived. She’s a bridesmaid too, and there’s a lot of squealing and hugging on their part. Dom and I make gagging faces at one another. Dom’s face looks even sourer when Victoire takes the bridesmaid dresses out of the wardrobe.
They aren’t as bad as I expected from Dom’s reaction. They’re quite frilly and a vivid electric blue colour. Okay, so they’re quite horrid. And they’re as wide as tents. I know I’m fat, but Dom and Dina are a pair of matchsticks.
The hairdresser, the make-up artist and the dressmaker arrive shortly after Dina. I’m starting to think James and Al got the better end of the deal, cleaning up outside. The hairdresser, Mavis, pulls at my unmanageable hair for about half an hour until she eventually tames it into a loose up-style thingy on the back of my head. It’s nice, I suppose.
Then, the rather fat lady called Stephanie attacks me with the make-up brush, putting the same electric blue colour of the dresses on my eyelids. Then she throws some blusher on my cheeks, as if they aren’t red enough. I officially look like a prostitute. Or, as Nana calls them, ‘Scarlet Women’.
Dom doesn’t look quite as bad, as she can pull off the blue better than I can. We then slip into our marquee-sized dresses. The dressmaker, Timothy, merely flicks his wand at us and all of a sudden the dresses don’t look quite as bad as we first thought. It’s a strapless gown, with the waistline coming into a small ‘V’ at the centre front, and the skirt falls to below our knees. The skirt has a sort of handkerchief style hemline with four points, and all in all it doesn’t look too bad. Well, it looks a lot better on Dom, as mine is quite strained around the stomach area.
Thankfully when we are finally done up to the nines, the stylists turn to Victoire to torture her for a while. Dom and I sit down by the window, which is overlooking the back garden and watch as Nana Molly chases James around making him do work as he complains loudly about not having had any breakfast.
“So what’s the deal with you and Scorpius then?” Dom asks quietly, but that doesn’t make the question any less blunt.
“Erm…” I try to think of something sarcastic to say, as I usually do in situations like these, “Well we’re having a baby…”
“Yeah yeah,” Dom sighs impatiently, “Stupid sarcastic Rose remark, blah blah blah, but could I please get an actual answer before the year is out?”
My sarcastic remarks are not stupid.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dominique,” I say, using her full name as revenge for her calling my incredibly witty and clever sarcastic remarks ‘stupid’.
“Yes you do,” she rolls her eyes, “You haven’t said two words to each other since we got here. You could cut the tension with a knife at breakfast.”
I slump back on the chair (until Victoire screams at me not to crease up the dress, so I sit back up again) and shrug.
“He thinks I like…someone else.”
Your about-to-be brother-in-law.
Dom’s eyes widen at this and she seems genuinely shocked.
“Who?” she asks in disbelief.
“I…I don’t know,” I say, deciding that telling her about my seventeen year long crush on Teddy on the morning of his wedding probably isn’t the best of ideas, “He just has it in his head.”
“Well…do you like someone else?”
I pause for a moment before answering.
“Rose!” Victoire calls, as the hairdresser pulls the rollers out of her hair, “Could you please go and check how the marquee is looking? It better be nearly ready…”
She seems stressed so I agree. At least it delays me from answering Dom’s question.
I trudge down the stairs, catching glances of myself in the huge mirrors on the walls – perhaps the electric blue eye shadow is a bit too much. Oh well, I suppose I can put up with it for one day.
The back garden is mayhem. People are beginning to take their seats inside the marquee, but Nana Molly and Mrs Tonks aren’t even changed yet – they’re still in dressing gowns, shouting orders.
“James!” Nana Molly growls, “STOP PICKING AT THE WEDDING CAKE!”
“But I’m hungry!” he moans, as Ginny drags him away from the food table. Al is sitting right at the back, as far away from the altar as physically possible, completely disregarding all of Victoire’s carefully planned seating charts. Luckily for him, Ginny is too busy tying James’s Dickie-bow to notice him. However, Mrs Tonks appears to have noticed and drags him up to the third row to sit beside Lily. He looks extremely pissed off, I have to say.
Teddy is already sitting at the front beside Uncle Harry. As soon as Auntie Fleur’s third or fourth cousins decide where to sit (and as soon as Mrs Tonks and Nana change into their dressrobes), the wedding is ready to begin. I scan the marquee for Scorpius, and notice him sitting up beside Al with his arms folded. I feel such a forceful pang of guilt in my heart at the sight of him that I can almost feel tears in my eyes. So, to avoid the embarrassment of having mascara and electric blue eyeshadow streaming down my face, I return to the house to tell Victoire that everything is ready.
“Are they ready?” Victoire asks – well, snaps – as soon as I re-enter the bedroom. She looks so elegant in her dress, with her blonde hair curled and falling just past her shoulders, her veil placed carefully on top of her head and her make-up done to perfection. She is perfection. She looks like someone who should be on an ad for some really seductive wine. Or maybe for Milk Tray.
“Everything’s ready,” I assure her.
Uncle Bill arrives at the door to escort his daughter downstairs, telling her just how beautiful she looks.
“Notice he didn’t mention how beautiful I look,” Dom mutters bitterly to me as we make our way downstairs, “Then again, I look like a bloody Scarlet Woman.”
“Call them prostitutes,” I mumble back, “You sound like my dad.”
Standing outside the marquee, I can hear Auntie Fleur crying from inside, reminiscing of her own wedding. Her sobs can be heard over the stringed quartet (cliché? – no, of course not) as I make my way up the aisle after Dominique and in front of Victoire’s friend, Dina. I find that my eyes are fixed on nobody but Scorpius. He hasn’t even looked up from the fingernails he’s been chewing. I almost trip at one stage from lack of attention.
“Be careful!” Dina hisses from behind. Resisting the urge to stick up my middle finger at her, I concentrate on walking and not falling over. Because apart from the fact that it would be deathly mortifying, it really wouldn’t be good for my baby.
What feels like ten thousand miles later, we arrive at the top of the aisle where a very old French wizard is standing, smiling at us. He’s the one who’s going to marry them – he makes me sick. Who would willingly choose a job where they have to attend weddings every other week? I’d rather work as an undertaker, thank you very much.
All in all, the ceremony is quite boring. I don’t even pay attention to what is happening, but steal glances at Scorpius, wondering if he’s ever going to look at me the way he used to. Will we ever laugh at random students who walk down the corridors singing “She’ll Be Coming ‘Round The Mountain” again? Will we ever just hang out in the library in complete silence, but complete comfort again? Will he ever consider me as anything more than the girl who broke his heart and had his baby?
I see his eyes flicker to me for a split second, but then they wander to another girl. She’s older than me I would think, maybe nineteen or twenty. And she’s certainly prettier than me. I’m fairly sure she’s some distant relative of Auntie Fleur’s, which means she has Veela blood running through her veins.
The ceremony ends without me even realising it. However, there are then thousands upon thousands of pictures to be taken outside, so it’s at least another hour before I’m finally set free. Dom looks equally as pissed off as I do.
“Stupid sodding pictures,” Dom mumbles as she rushes over to a waiter and grabs a glass of champagne. She grabs another and offers it to me.
“I’m pregnant, remember,” I say, somewhat bitterly.
“Oh yeah,” she says, looking at my bulging stomach, “Maybe you did get the worse end of the deal.”
I glance around for Scorpius, but he’s nowhere to be seen. James has already delved into the buffet, while Al seems more interested in getting drunk – even though he isn’t even seventeen yet.
“Al,” I say angrily, as he downs a glass of champagne in one as if it was water, “Steady on, yeah?”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he growls.
“No, but I know someone who can,” I say, nodding towards Aunt Ginny.
“Whatever,” he grabs another glass of champagne, “She doesn’t scare me.”
Yeah, right. And I hear the Pope is a Jew.
“Al, I really think you need to slow down…” I try again.
“You slow down,” he says stupidly.
“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter says as Al makes to take another glass of champagne from his tray, “May I see your ID please?”
“Of course,” says Al, without a hint of anxiety, and hands him a small card. The waiter seems pretty satisfied with it and hands it back, allowing Al to take yet another drink. I glance at the card. Of course – it’s James’s. Apparently the waiter didn’t notice the difference in eye colour. “See you later, I’m going for a walk.”
He grabs a full bottle of champagne on the way out of the marquee. Everyone is beginning to sit down to dinner, so I decide it’s best to just leave Al to his own devices and go eat something.
Except I can’t eat. My guilt has made me lose my appetite completely. Also, the fact that James is sitting beside me, lobbing every bit of food within his reach into him, has completely turned me off.
And then the dancing begins. As Teddy and Victoire take to the floor, I notice just how happy he looks. He’s glowing. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him look happier in his entire life. He has eyes for one person and one person only – Victoire. I used to wish he’d look at me like that. Now, if Scorpius looked at me with even half the love Teddy’s showing for Victoire, I could die a happy woman.
And then I realise it.
I don’t love Teddy Lupin.
Well I love him, of course I do, but I’m not in love with him – not by a long shot. Perhaps over the years I’ve just gotten used to fancying him and I’ve never really given anyone else a chance because of my unhealthy obsession. But today I haven’t really looked at him at all. I haven’t pined for him, or even felt upset about his marriage. Was it all just lust?
As I look at him now I know that I am definitely not in love with him. I admire him, I look up to him, I respect him, I love him as my best friend in the world. But Merlin, if I was Mrs Teddy Lupin right now, I’m not sure I’d be very happy.
“Care for a dance, Rose?”
One of Teddy’s mates, Evan, is standing in front of me, his hand outstretched. He’s one of the groomsmen, and it’s sort of my obligation to dance with him now. Is there any chance I could get out of this without looking like a spoilsport?
“Go on, Rosie!” Dad encourages, sitting at the next table beside Mum, George and Angelina.
This sodding dance can’t end soon enough.
I need to find him. I need to tell him…
What the hell am I supposed to tell him? I’m so bad at confrontation. And knowing me I’ll probably end up verbally abusing him or something.
“Are you alright?” Evan asks me as we sway uncomfortably on the dance floor.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, and as soon as the music ends I break away from him immediately, “Thanks for the dance.”
I run to the table where Dom is sitting with James, Fred and Mark and grab her by the arm.
“No,” I say to her firmly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“No,” I repeat, “I don’t like anyone else!”
It takes Dom a moment to figure out just what the hell I’m talking about. “Oh, right,” she says, “That’s good.”
“Have you seen Scorpius?” I ask frantically.
“Not since…” she trails off.
“Not since when?” I snap.
She shifts uncomfortably. “Not since I saw him chatting to one of my distant cousins outside a while ago.”
I know which one it is. It’s the one he was looking at during the ceremony. Instead of getting upset about this, I go the other way – insanely angry.
“Oh no she doesn’t,” I growl to myself, “I saw him first…”
I storm out of the marquee, like someone with a mission. Scorpius isn’t outside, but the girl I know he’s been chatting with is. It takes all of my will power not to take out my wand and curse her pretty blonde head off. I approach her with such force and confidence that she raises her eyebrows at me in a very cynical and patronising way.
“Excuse me,” I smile sweetly to her, “You know the boy you were talking to? With the blonde hair?”
“Scorpeeus?” she asks.
“That’s the one,” I say, “See this?” I point to my stomach, “It’s his. So don’t even bother trying.”
“Zat is ‘is baybee?” she nods to my stomach.
“Yes indeed it is,” I say, “And also, he has an extremely obsessive foot fetish, I really don’t think you want to get involved with the likes of him.”
She looks a little frightened and then stalks off with one of her friends. Okay, maybe tarnishing his reputation isn’t the way to go about telling him how I feel. Screw it, I’m not losing him to another Veela.
I storm around the garden like a complete lunatic, looking for Scorpius. I find Lorcan and Lily sitting up a tree, snogging, while Lysander plays with a pygmy puff he got Merlin knows where underneath it. I then find something a bit more shocking a bit further down the garden.
Al, kissing the girl I’ve just told off for flirting with the father of my child.
There are some sentences that, when you’re around six or seven, you think you’ll never have to say, and believe me, that’s one of them.
What the hell is he playing at? I’m so glad poor Jenny decided not to come to the wedding after all.
“Oi! Potter!” I yell at him, and the girl breaks away from him. She frowns at me as if to say ‘you again!’ and I suppose I can’t really blame her.
“What d’you want?” Al grumbles, clearly intoxicated.
“Where’s Malfoy?” I decide that reasoning with him in this state would be as pointless as selling ice to an Eskimo, so I just cut to the chase.
“I dunno, probably in the loo,” he shrugs.
Of course! I never thought of checking there! I rush to the house to find that there’s a pretty long queue outside the downstairs bathroom. But then again, Scorpius is more likely to be in his ensuite bathroom. So I rush upstairs to his room.
Not bothering to knock (as I’m pretty fired up at this stage) I storm straight through his bedroom and into his bathroom – again, without knocking. Thank Merlin for small mercies, he’s in the process of washing his hands and looks extremely startled as I burst in the door.
Of all the ways to tell someone you love them, this has to be the least romantic.
“C-can I help you?” he stutters.
“You listen up, Malfoy,” I snap, not really quite sure why I’m so angry, “You just listen! You can’t just tell me you love me and then ignore me all day! I’ll have you know that I’m not in love with Teddy –”
“Yeah, right,” he mumbles.
“Do not interrupt me!” I yell, and he looks a little frightened. This really isn’t going well. “I am NOT in love with Teddy, I might have thought I was once, but I’m NOT. I know my heart far better than you do.”
He looks down at his shoes.
“S-so,” I struggle, “Y-you just get your facts right before you start preaching, alright?” I poke him on the shoulder. I am getting physically abusive while trying to express my love for someone. I’m not joking when I say I need therapy.
“So what are the facts then?” he frowns at me.
“The facts are…” I trail off, “T-the facts are…w-well, I don’t really know what the facts are!”
Yeah, I’m actually coming out with this. Maybe I’ll wake up in a minute.
“Well then what are you doing bursting in on me in the crapper?!” he yells.
“I LOVE YOU, YOU IDIOT!”
I should be a love poet, don’t you think?
He looks quite shocked. Okay, he looks extremely shocked. So I do what any other completely insane girl who bursts into a guy’s bathroom to tell him how she feels would do.
I kiss him. Finally.
A/N – Do I hear the distant sighs of relief? Do I hear some cries of ‘HOW COULD YOU LEAVE IT THERE?’?
I hope you liked the chapter, it’s taken me ages to write. I kept getting writer’s block, but I’ve gotten over that now! Sorry that there was no Ron/Hermione contact (but a brief mention that they were sitting beside each other, see?!), but I think the Rosius contact made up for it?
Another huuuge THANK YOU for the Dobby nominations, it’s so overwhelming!
Also, if anyone’s interested, I got my exam results, 5 As and 2 Bs, woo! College, here I come! My A in English was because of this site. I did no revision otherwise! So thank you HPFF! And as always, thank you loyal readers and reviewers.
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