Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter...although you probably already knew that. XD
Truth, Chapter One
"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie."
It seemed ages ago that Rose Weasley had spotted the pale boy with blonde hair across Platform 9 ¾. So long ago-six years to be exact-her father had warned her about the boy, had told her he was no good.
Usually, Rose would have listened to her mother, would have chalked up her father's behavior under his Malfoy-prejudice…
But he had been right.
She was curious at first, curious about the boy named Scorpius Malfoy. But then she saw it in his arrogant swagger, in his sneering smirk—he was no better than what Ron Weasley had described.
And so Rose steered clear of him. Until he came to her.
"Think you're so smart, Weasley," he'd sneered at her with a most hateful expression, "think you're brains can ever make up for you incurable ugliness?" His Slytherin friends laughed coldly.
And Rose had gone straight up to that pompous prat and broke his nose.
"My nose! Bloody hell! That insufferable—" he was clutching his face, blood dripping everywhere. Rose imagined he would cry out for his mummy. She bit back maniacal laughter and walked away.
"You'll pay for this, Weasley!" he threatened, but she never heard him.
Third year had been the worst. Rose had just scarfed down a glass of pumpkin juice, turning to talk to her cousin, Albus…
"Hey, Albus, do you know if—?" Rose stopped mid-sentence and gasped as every eye in the Great Hall turned to her. Her voice was as deep as a bullfrog, the gravelly bass echoed throughout the Hall.
Uproarious laughter floated away from the Slytherin table.
"Sound as masculine as you look, Weasley?" Scorpius Malfoy was smirking triumphantly at her from the emerald-clad table.
Later, she knocked him off his broom and caught the Snitch, resulting in the defeat of his House.
He was furious. And he made sure Rose knew this, making every possible second of her life a living hell.
And she always fought back, always retaliated with a fury to match his.
But then he went too far, embarrassed her in front of Benjamin Wood. She cried herself to sleep, the image of Scorpius' smug smirk haunting her even in the darkness.
She came back fifth year and she was untouchable. She had vowed long ago that whatever that low-life Malfoy thought would not affect her. Who cared if he thought she was ugly? She didn't think so, and neither did half the male
population of Hogwarts.
(The half she wasn't related to, that is.)
Oh, the look on his face was priceless—his mouth agape, his eyes slightly bulging—gawking was so uncharacteristic of him. The miffed look of the girl on his arm.
She gazed at him briefly as they passed in the halls, pausing momentarily as she knew his eyes were moving over her features—waist length auburn curls, ocean-blue eyes, full pink lips, her long legs, her now-curvaceous figure…
She couldn't help but notice him, as well-those platinum blonde locks that were tousled carelessly, those unreadable grey eyes, that perfectly chiseled jaw, perfectly sculpted figure, like granite…
But their expressions quickly assumed looks of indifference, mild disgust, even. They were both good at acting. At lying to themselves.
And now it was their last year, so many years later, and Scorpius and Rose were in their predicted pre-term row.
"I cannot believe you are HEAD BOY! SCORPIUS MALFOY, HEAD BOY! The statement is even ironic!" Rose spat his name as if she were deathly allergic.
The aforementioned boy leaned casually against the doorframe of a compartment, inspecting his manicured nails. Heads were already poking out of their compartments, eager to see the yearly show.
"Who were you expecting?" he questioned, meeting Rose's passionate gaze. "Benjamin Wood?" His last comment caused the creeping blush to slowly spread across her face.
"Anyone but you!" she recovered, though inside the mention of her long-time crush had hit her like a blow from a fist.
"Why anyone but me?" Rose rolled her eyes at the self-centric rant that was sure to follow.
"I have top grades," (next to Rose of course,) "I'm filthy rich, Slytherin Prefect and Quidditch captain, and—" he paused for emphasis, "I'm irresistibly handsome."
Rose knew this speech by heart, mouthing each syllable with over-exaggerated hand gestures. Malfoy stared at her.
"See? You even agree with me, Weasley." The ever-present smirk was now emphasized on his aristocratic features.
"UGH!" Rose stormed off to find her cousins, Albus Potter and Louis Weasley. They were busy chatting up a few fifth years who looked like they were about to wet themselves in the mere presence of the two.
"I don't believe this! Malfoy is Head Boy!" Rose exploded, causing the girls to huddle closer together. Similar frowns were etched on her cousins' faces.
"Aren't you glad?" wondered Louis.
"Yeah, we all know you have the hots for him," added Lily, who had been sitting in a corner of the compartment, reading her copy of Witch Weekly.
"I do not!" she argued, but she just looked at Rose as if she was being naiive.
"He's impossibly gorgeous." She sighed. "What a shame." She disappeared behind her magazine. Albus winced. Rose left the room, fuming.
"Poor child," said Lily, not looking up. "She hasn't a clue."
Getting no sympathy from her flirtatious relatives, Rose had no choice but to return to the Heads' compartment.
What she saw almost caused the reappearance of her lunch.
Scorpius Malfoy making out with his fellow Slytherin, Petunia Parkinson.
"Get a room!" she yelled as she entered the compartment—no doubt to grab her stuff and leave.
Scorpius took his time snogging the girl in his lap before looking up at the furious Head Girl with a bored expression. His arrogance practically made her seethe.
In his casual drawl, he responded, "Last time I checked Weasley-" he sneered at her name, "-this is one." Petunia giggled, moving around in his lap. He was staring straight at Weasley, absently noticing how attractive her blush was…she looked like she was about to hex him. Clearing his throat, he chose the path that would lead to less injury…he still recalled that incident with the broken nose. That girl had a helluva right hook.
"I'll see you later, Parkinson." The girl blushed a deep crimson, and Scorpius once again made an absent note: her blush made her look like a swollen tomato or something. Good thing she had other redeeming qualities. He winked at the Slytherin, squeezing her backside before she left the compartment.
"You disgust me, Malfoy," spat Weasley, just as the door slid shut.
"I can't see why," said the boy, leaning back in his seat. Rose hated him with a passion.
"Well I can." She sat down in a seat as far away from him as possible, taking out a Muggle novel. "You're obnoxious, rude, an arrogant bastard, a bully, a spoilt brat, immature, you cheat at Quidditch, you use your so-called 'friends', you're a shameless flirt-not to mention heartbreaker, a sexist pig, an academic slacker, a prissy mama's boy-" Rose took a breath to continue, but Scorpius held up his hand for her to stop.
"I take offense at 'prissy mama's boy.' It seems like you took this opportunity to name-call, so it's only fair if I list your bad qualities, as well."
Rose crossed her arms. "Like what?" she asked pointedly.
"There's one," and Rose flinched when he pointed at her with one perfectly manicured finger. "Your pride. That's a big one. You refuse to find fault in your House, your family, or yourself." Rose opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy continued. "Also, you're a know-it-all. I'm not saying being smart is bad, but you try too hard. It's like you're trying to prove something-to impress someone. Perhaps, fill in your mother's shoes?" Scorpius turned his icy gaze at Rose. She flinched again at the eye contact, then cursed herself because it was Malfoy.
"And," he said, "you have quite the temper. Anything can set you off under given circumstances. And it's a blind rage. Sometimes your anger won't let you see that it's unnecessary, or that you're in the wrong."
Rose was silent.
How did he know?
How did Malfoy, the most self-centered prat on the planet manage to figure her out. She had to admit, she was shocked, impressed, and terrified at the same time. Those metallic eyes seemed to read her very soul.
Clearly, Malfoy had handled the situation more maturely than her. How many times had she walked in on Albus snogging a girl?
It was just the fact that he was bloody Scorpius Malfoy that irked her. Everything about his looks attracted her—the eyes, the body, his hair, impeccably white-and yet everything in his personality made her loathe him to a greater degree.
Those eyes were studying her again and she didn't like it. For once in her life, she felt vulnerable.
Not meeting his calculating stare, she managed to scoff, "Do you always study people so intently, Malfoy? Or are you staring at me for other reasons?" Her question met silence, and she curiously looked up from her book, at once meeting his gaze.
For the briefest moment, she could swear she saw a flicker of guilt and embarrassment on his face, in his eyes. But then his features regained their cool composure and he looked away, out the window at the rapidly changing landscape.
Rose felt a moment of disbelief wash over her, but then she assured herself that Malfoy did not feel guilt, let alone show embarrassment. Her reassuring lies, however, dissolved as he protested quietly.
"I wasn't staring."
But she knew better.