title: the world could be burning
characters: scorpius malfoy, lily luna potter, rose weasley.
summary: but you are no girl on fire -— ScorpiusLily.
a/n: this is probably more ooc than it should be, and i mostly ship scorpiusrose, but i decided that i would try writing something different for once. the hiding prompt is meant to be during the divorce scene, along with the personal; 'elegance' is meant to be during the easter egg party. all dialogue are in italics, as well.
warning: ooc-ness. potential spag errors, as well.
disclaimer: i don't own anything besides the story idea; the characters and everything else belong to J.K. Rowling.
dedication: this is for round 3 in hpfc's hunger games competition.
prompt: hiding, personal, elegance
.
I know you have songs sleeping deep within your heart,
When young you wrote beautiful poems;
They say to me, just to me, that you too will slow down
- Martinson
[1]
Like all destructive things, it ends with a child —
.
The Sacred Twenty-Eight, Albus murmurs in reverence in the summer after his first-year; Rose will go to Hogwarts in one year, and she is counting down the days until she is not the baby of the family anymore. I got into the club, even though the Potters aren't one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Why couldn't we have been purebloods, though?
Don't talk like that, Ginny (Weasley) Potter reprimands.
Weren't you a pureblood, mum? The three of them are sitting in the Potter mansion, swallowing gulps of cereal and milk, but it is just another pretense to be Muggles, to be a normal family, but they will never be normal, no matter how hard they try. Lily fingers a box of gifts that are piled up behind her alabaster chair, and lets milk stains dry out upon the mahogany surface of the floor, and laughs at the birthday gifts - of how predictable they are (a camera, a book of magic spells, Muggle toys from another country, postcards, medieval souvenirs and more). She purposely distances herself from the conversation, because Lily Luna Potter is a child, and children are not meant to interfere, she thinks.
I did, but my family and I have always resented it. It is not a gift to be a pure-blood; you do know that, right children? They nod in response, quick sharp actions.
I'll marry into a pureblood family, Albus says moments later, always with the irrational fear of never being good enough, because he will never be James Potter the Second, and James Potter the Second will always be the Golden Boy. What about you, Rosie?
Narcissa Travers, she murmurs in response, staring at the back of a birthday card, and wishing for a friend; the gifts are all from family members, fourth cousins twice removed, but they are all obligated to send the same birthday cards and re-gifted presents, and she is not satiated, and wishes for something more than predictable family. You could always marry her.
She is ten years old, and everybody wishes to be a pure-blood these days, and wishes to just be.
.
Lily Luna Potter sits in the opposite room from her parents, and thinks that this is not a fairytale.
She would have given anything to be the ten year-old whose biggest priority was to make friends; she would have given anything for a dependable, non-convoluted family whether they were normal or not. Her mother and father are screaming at each other, about 'stress' and 'personal priorities' and she increases the volume on her headphones until the music is pounding loudly in her ears, and then there's the inevitable slam of the door, and she doesn't come out of the room for days; nobody bothers to check on her, anyways, and the safety of her room seems higher than ever.
Ginny and Harry Potter have divorced, and they are friends now. Lily thinks that friends talk to one another, instead of sitting awkwardly on opposite sides of the room, not bothering to acknowledge each other's presence.
James Potter the Second is the Golden Boy of the Potter family — he is the firstborn, named after the hero of the generation's father, captain of the Quidditch team, with all the girls chasing after him; he is not perfect, but at least he is not a Slytherin. Albus Potter is the middle child, nestled in between the girl and the golden boy — he is named after two of the greatest people his father has ever known, a convoluted professor with good intentions, and the professor who was more like a father to Harry Potter than anything else, and is at the top of his class, best friends with Scorpius Malfoy, a Slytherin; he is not perfect, but at least he is not a Slytherin.
There is Lily Luna Potter, who is often forgotten than anything else, and she thinks that being invisible is better than it seems.
.
She meets Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy on the train to Hogwarts in fourth year —
You can sit with us, the girl offers, toothy grin. I'm Rose Weasley. This is Scorpius, she motions towards a reluctant blonde who gives her a disgusted look, before gazing back out the window; it doesn't go unnoticed by Lily that Rose's and Scorpius's hands are entwined together, as though they are one heartbeat, but they are two different entities, she thinks, and sits down across.
Who are you supposed to be? Scorpius asks, eyebrows raised in disdain.
Lily Luna Potter, she says simply, staring out the window, across the fields of happiness, and thinks that the train ride to Hogwarts couldn't move by any slower; there's a knock at the door, and the trolley of magical sweets are rolled around. She reaches for chocoballs full of strawberry mousse and clotted cream and a pumpkin pasty; Rose takes out homemade sandwiches, and Scorpius buys a can of treacle fudge.
Do you want some? He offers; if she had paid more attention, she would have seen the warning look that Rose had given Scorpius, as if to 'stop it, just stop what you're doing', but Lily, a little confused why on Earth the boy who hated her — because he hated her, she could see it in his eyes — would be offering her a rather expensive treat, and reaches forward, fingers brushing against one another (there is no spark of electricity; this is not a fairytale).
Thanks, she murmurs, and thinks that they are friends now, taking a bite into the golden syrup, and tries to open her lips, but they are cemented shut, and she narrows her eyes at Scorpius Malfoy, who smirks in response; Rose lets out a small giggle, before calling for help; and thinks that she has already made an archnemesis at fourteen years of age. Once her lips are not cemented together, she tells him, You didn't need to do that.
You're annoying when you talk, he only says, smirk implanted upon corrupted features.
She slaps him hard across the face — it is for the first time, but not for the last — and exits the compartment, and feels ire through bubbling veins, and promises to get revenge.
[2]
He is a Malfoy, she later learns.
The Malfoys and the Potters are sworn enemies.
Her somewhat estranged father tells her of Draco Malfoy, of a villain finally redeemed into a hero whose only crime was supporting his family until the death of them all, of how family feuds are destructive and how the tradition will not be carried on throughout the years.
Lily only thinks that she's never really listened to her father, and plots revenge (not for the first time). She is little Lily Luna, except she is now at Hogwarts, but she is still everything that she doesn't want to be - a child - the Gryffindor with a sharp tongue, who makes Unbreakable Vows and swears revenge. So in Herbology, Scorpius, and accidentally Rose, Rose who always gets in the way of everything) end up covered in a slimy liquid of Bubotuber pus, painful yellow boils appearing on their hands, the rest of their bodies protected by thick, steel gloves, and she thinks that she has won a round in a twisted, wicked series of games that nobody is playing in but herself.
.
I am but the sum of all my finite selves; you, however, you are brilliant and infinite and it is for that reason that I hate you with all the loathing my tenuous mortal heart can muster. I love you, and my love is black and wicked as the abyss is wide and deep; we are the most beautiful disaster assembled in the toyshop of god, Rose Weasley reads in the class of Muggle Arts, middle of fifth year; like everything she says, the words are eloquent, with hidden second meanings, and there is a flicker of an insecure girl who used to be, disappearing under a false bravado of confidence, and Lily thinks that nobody is truly confident - it is all a show, fake it until you make it, and all.
Rose exchanges a look with Scorpius who flinches, because Scorpius Malfoy is not romantic; he builds up castle walls to protect himself, and Lily thinks that Rose is slightly fed up with it.
She sits outside Rose's dormitory room, mindlessly fiddling with a quill and empty scrolls of paper, illuminated by a lantern which hangs from the ceiling, flickering on and off now and then, headphones plugged in, and it is not the first time where she has used to them to block out the shouts. There's the slam of a door, and Scorpius comes running down the stairs, moody expression and all, and she hears tears upstairs, and knows that RoseandScorpius are Rose and Scorpius from now on. Lily, you've got to help me -
Hell's sake, she says, because there is no God in a world like this, don't bring me into your arguments. You screwed up Scorpius, and now the time has come for you to pay the price.
He tilts his head to the side, and Lily thinks that if she squints hard enough, she can see hurt inside of their icy exterior, because Scorpius really did love Rose, he did, that much she knows of - he just loved other things more. Karma then?
Something like that, Lily remarks, and walks up the staircase, and not for the first time, makes an Unbreakable Vow (not really unbreakable, though) that she will get revenge upon Scorpius Malfoy, but it is with less fervor now.
.
He approaches her on a Sunday afternoon —
Elegant Easter Egg party, Rose was calling it, some sort of Muggle holiday that didn't seem to make much sense, but then again, most of them didn't. You've got to come, plus Scor - I mean, Scorpius is going to be there, and we've just broken up, you see, and it'll be a bloody awful time without my best friend there to support me.
I'll come, she acquiesces, because Lily's never been a best friend of anybody, and deep down, she is still the same ten-year old who's always wanted a friend more than anything.
Hours later, Lily Luna Potter stands out the outskirts of the party, watching Rose, who momentarily glances back and forth between herself and Scorpius who moodily drinks on the perimeter, because these days, it is not the same, and nobody wants to be a pure-blood (they are the filth now, and the vicious cycle continues), continuing to dance with Hugo, mindless glances and exchanges of words in front of a boy who has had an infatuation with her since third grade, and it is a coincidence that their clothes match, as if planned, yet Lily thinks that the universe is rarely so lazy to create things such as coincidences.
Rose approaches her as the music swindles down, champagne glass in one hand, battering eyelashes at the crowd in front of her; a girl on a mission, perhaps, a mission to find a boyfriend, and Lily wonders when Rose Weasley had changed so much. Change is always for the worse, she decides. You're going to go talk to Scorpius, right?
Why would I talk to him? She questions, watching the liquid in her own champagne glass dwindle, circling, until it disappears down the back of her throat, sharp tastes of scotch mixed it with spiked punch, and Lily misses being a child.
Because he was the one who dumped me, and I'd really like to figure out why he broke up with me in the first place, and you're his friend, right?
I hate him. You know that - everybody knows that I hate him. And he hates me. And aren't you into Hugo now? She asks, pointing to the red-haired boy who stands in the corner, grin spilled across his face.
Hugo's my cousin, my second cousin, I think. He's a good kid, but he's not my type.
He likes you a lot, she points out, because it's quite obvious, and it isn't as though Rose is the oblivious type. Top-of-the-class, most likely to graduate as class valedictorian of Hogwarts (if a magical school even has such a thing). She's not stupid - though she acts like it.
I'm aware of that, Rose only replies, setting down her champagne glass upon a floral-colored tray in the middle of the room, casting appraising glances around the available male population; Lily rolls her eyes, and thinks that this is her best friend, and she loves the girl like a sister, but she doesn't love the person that she's become to fit into society. She misses the ten year-old Rose Weasley that she had only heard of in stories, who would pour over large textbooks, frizzy hair and thick-lensed glasses and all, who would turn her nose up in disgust at the mention of a boy; Lily had only meant Rose in fourth-year, and thinks that she would like to have known the girl behind the mature façade a little better.
Let him down easy, would you? Lily asks, because there was a time when Hugo Yaxley and her were friends - back at King's Cross Station, among the flurry of first-year students, they had formed amity between themselves; short-lived amity, but in a world where good friends are hard to find, she always remembered the boy who never quite fit in; he reminded her of herself.
Rose swirls back into the crowd, always fitting in, and Lily excuses herself to the outskirts of the crowd, because that is her home, that is where she belongs, and slinks away from the party, standing in the sunny ambiance, basking in the delicious rays of sunlight, and thinks that this is as close to paradise that the world will ever be. We should start dating, Scorpius suggests, walking up behind her. Since it's best friend and the boyfriend now, he mutters bitterly, and Lily sees a bit of hurt in his voice, easily concealed; Scorpius is the type of person to close doors upon all emotional attachments, because he is a Malfoy, a Slytherin, and neither of the two are weak; for a moment, Lily remembers that Hugo was Scorpius's best friend (after Al, Albus was always the best friend) too and thinks the situation is all too bittersweet. I mean, you're not my first choice, by a long shot, but at least you come from a half pure-blood family, rare these days.
She spits out an orange seed which flies directly into his eye; she doesn't bother apologizing, slaps him across the face, pressing the heel of her shoe hard own upon his polished shoes, and says, Rose is my best friend, Scorpius. I wouldn't ever hurt her like that. You repel me.
That sounds like the beginning of a love story, Potter, not the end of one. Lily walks in the opposite direction; he stares a burning hole into her back, and she can feel the tingling sensation of her veins, and thinks that that pretty much ruined her dramatic exit.
[3]
You repel me — He draws in close, his breath of cinnamon and peppermint, and brushes his lips against hers; he leaves moments later.
She only kisses him back because he tastes of peppermint and destruction, and Lily is slowly destroying herself. The world is burning around you, walls transforming into licking ashes, but you are no girl on fire, so you succumb to the arbitrary darkness, losing yourself among constellations until there is nothing but the dark side on the walls, all four of them.
.
Scorpius is sitting over there, Rose points out at breakfast. Go talk to him, since you weren't successful the first time. It's almost an order, but Lily's known Rose for long enough a time that it's not as though she is the 'doormat' in their friendship; they rely on each other to do what the other can't (won't) bring themselves to do. Nevertheless, Lily would rather not converse with Scorpius after their confrontation a few weeks ago - the thought of it still made her want to vomit.
Why do I have to talk to him? No offense, Rose, but if you really still love him, then you should be the one to take the initiative.
I'm not weak, she replies stubbornly, because Gryffindor's are not meant to be weak. Plus, your brother's sitting at the Slytherin table, so why can't you just pretend that you're talking to your brother?
The things that I do for friendship, Lily mutters wryly, and makes her way down the stretch of expanse near the front of the Grand Hall that separates the Gryffindor table in its fiery glory to the icy Slytherins who stare up at her with disgust. Can I sit here? She asks, plainly, toes tapping upon the pavement.
Five or so of what she supposes are the upperclassmen gather together, as though deciding her heritage or something akin to that, and then disperse, staring up at her and giving a simple nod. You're a Weasley, aren't you? She's almost glad that they leave out 'Potter' because their family has divorced, and she will not be associated with the name 'Potter' again; they look at her as though she is welcome, and Rose sits upon the icy benches, and looks at Scorpius, who looks mildly amused.
I don't like her anymore. Can't she understand that?
I didn't even tell you anything - never mind, she loves you, Scorpius. Can't you understand that?
Well, if you know that she still loves me, and you're her supposed best friend, then why did you kiss me back? Her cheeks flush slightly, half the color of her auburn curls, and she declines to response, heading back; in the vicinity, she can hear Scorpius respond, Exactly, and thinks that lying would have been a lot easier than saying nothing at all.
.
Why do you like me, Scorpius?
I never said I liked you; you're just something to pass the time by.
She doesn't let the hurt show, because she is Lily Luna Potter, and a silly, little girl is not who she is (pretends to be).
.
They just become a thing, after a while, names meshing together; he becomes nicer to her, same coldness to others, and she wonders when the roles will change once more, as they oft do in times and places such as these — it's not a secret kept in the closet, they have escaped that now — and it's undeniable to anybody looking at them that they are not well-fitted together; he with his ice and her with a burning (subdued) fire, auburn hair the light in a bleak life, and she thinks that she does not love him, but she does not hate him anymore, and that is enough.
Rose finds out on a Tuesday, and Lily thinks that it was inevitable, all along, but would rather have pushed the moments away for as far as possible; her nightmares are carved with Rose's wrath, her tears, because this girl is her best friend, her sister more than anything, but she's not ready to give up Scorpius Malfoy either — she wants the cake and to eat it to, but it is not that easy to simply divide the treat down the middle; sacrifices are to be made. You like him, Rose interjects into their conversation, sitting down on the sofa, all stiff and numb.
I do, Lily replies, because she is not one to lie to her best friend. Gryffindor's don't lie, and her entire heritage is muddled with divorces and estrangement, and all that she has left of who she is is a house placement.
You're my best friend, Lily. It wasn't supposed to be like this. There's a pause of silence and a mop of white-blonde hair peeking in through the door and Rose kicks the door closed, hard. Just make him happy, would you? If it wasn't going to me, then I'm glad it's you. You'll be good to him, won't you?
I like him, Rose, she murmurs, because she honestly likes Scorpius Malfoy, and it's not right (none of this right, this is not a fairytale). And then Rose bursts into tears and Lily is overwhelmed with guilt and remembers back when her mother had said that love was easy — that when you've found the right person, it's just that simple — and wonders why it's anything but.
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notes: please leave a review xx