"She is totally hot, right Scorp?"
"What? Er yeah totally."
"Aw, little Scoorpy is looking at Rose Weasley again boys,"
"Hell no, you have got to get over her man,"
"Yeah, she would be bad for you, and for us, what would they say?"
"Yeah, people would talk,"
"Have you heard about Scorpius? He has a thing with a Weasley, no dammit not Hugo you fool!" they mocked me.
"ooh I wonder if she lets him read her special books? Eh eh?" they nudged each other.
"I bet you if he's lucky, she might let him hold her hand,"
"SCORE!" they laughed.
"Seriously though dude, you can't shag the Weasel"
I felt my fists balling in my pockets.
"Not only would it look bad on us but she is hardly a one night stand chick herself, two years with Thomas, did they even kiss? No one knows but people have speculated,"
"Bad things,"
My fists started to twitch.
"Rumours spread,"
I tried to hold back the temptation of strangling my supposed best mates there and then.
"Unlike her legs!"
"BOOM," they guffawed
I turned around and punched him square in the face.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP ZABINI!"
Silence
Then a muffled, "Calm it Malfoy, it was just a joke," from a blood faced Zabini.
"Yeah? Well next time leave Weasley out of it you hear me?"
"Oh Scorpy," they cooed, "You need to learn to call your fifty year old virgin wife by her first name."
"YEAH! Especially when they call goodnight to each other from different rooms!"
I did the mature thing and walked away. They'll forget about Weasley and so will I.
A group of blonde bimbos sauntered over to us, swaying their hips and flicking their hair and said rather seductively, encouraged of course by my rather exuberant group arsehole of mates, "You coming to the Ravenclaw party tonight Scor?"
I shrugged
"We are, maybe see you there?"
"If you can get in," I snarled
"What?" she giggled in that fake laugh chicks do to get guys, who all end up being man whores and breaking the poor slag's heart, she then pines for comfort in a new womaniser, probably older with money to spare who then decides to get back together with his equally old but evidently had a lot of botox wife, somewhat of a vicious cycle is her life. I felt sorry for her and slightly sad, you can tell I read too many help magazines... forget I said that.
"You have to answer a fucking question to get in the door,"
"Oh, we won't if we arrive with someone," she giggled and fluttered hers eyelashes
"Go on Scorp, it'll stop you thinking about that Weasel,"
"She has a name," I growled
"So? What do you say?"
"I have to go."
As I walked away she caught my hand and whispered sharply in my ear, "I'll see you tonight Scorpius,"
I shrugged out of her grip, "Whatever."
As I walked away I heard a really subtle(hint the sarcasm) "He likes Weasley? But why? She does her homework? Zabini, are you listening to me?"
"Yeah I know, she even reads for pleasure,"
"Urgh,"
"Well he probably just wants the honourability of being able to crack the nun."
And then as I turned around reading to have a fucking go at the bastard I saw Rose, I imagined she'd be running at Zabini with her Arithmancy book, she is a weird girl that one; she just stood behind him with silent tears rolling down her cheeks rocking slightly on the spot, her short hair, that barely touched her shoulders falling delicately into her face, fiery, filled with passion and unspoken words. I felt like I could watch her forever. Merlin, I was getting a little to sentimental, I needed a firewhiskey. I refuse to believe I harbour anything other than petty lust for Weasley, Zabini was right, she reads for pleasure, that probably means she studies for extra credit aswell, urgh.
I bought a dress once when I was out in muggle London with my Mum, she insisted every girl own at least one proper party dress. Right now that seemed like a very good philosophy I thought as I scrambled around in my wardrobe looking for it.
Seconds later: was it always this short? ...And was the neckline always that low?
This was probably time to embrace those acting skills and find my inner slut. HAH, now there's a good joke. Rose Weasley; a slut. Very believable.
As I stripped down to my under crackers and slid into the black mini I think I had a stroke as I realised I was actually going to a party, there would be boys and alcohol and no studying to be done.
The last time I went to a party was my own, when I was eight, obviously there was no alcohol there and the only boys being Al, James, Fred and everyone else that comes in the package.
As I stared at myself in the mirror, I thought now may be as good a time as any to dive into my emergency make up bag, nothing more than a little powder and mascara, I also found a red matt lipstick that looked very unopened with the plastic seal still on. Hell I'd come this far I even threw a little liner on my lower lids.
Now time for one of my two worst nightmares; my hair, the easy way out being just to charm it into something almost decent. After much deliberation I decided on casual beach waves with a few pieces pulled back into a slide, too show how much I was letting go I even put in the extensions Roxy bought me for my sixteenth. I looked almost good now, well as almostly good as I was ever going to.
Now my second worst nightmare, possibly the worst of the two; leaving my dorm and walking through the corridors at this time of night wearing 3 inch peep toe cut offs.
When I was in the common room I got a few looks, Carrie from my dorm and two of her mates smiled at me, the fourth year boys were flicking between my arse and my chesty regions, as sick as you might think that is and don't get me wrong, I agree, I've never had a group of boys so much as glance at me before, my ex didn't even call me beautiful in the whole two years of our study sessions. Maybe I thought hopefully, maybe I might just look a little bit pretty, good, I'll show Scorpius Malfoy what he is missing, him and his loser mates. Twats, the lot of them.
My first thought; this was a shit party, what is it with all the nerdy fourth years insisting they need to get something from the common room just so they can dance with some mediocre girls from the year above? I was never like that, I thought as I brushed my bleached hair roughly out of my face and fell backwards into the armchair that was 1000 times more inviting than any of the girls doing shots right before my eyes. I tell you, if there is one thing I think that looks worse than Potter's girlfriends arse after her birthday it is girls who drink, not that I think they aren't allowed to let go every once in a while but how on earth is she supposed to make me breakfast if she is still hammered from the night before? And don't judge me as totally sexist, give me a frying pan and as amazing as I am it is guaranteed that something will explode. What can I say, that's my loveability factor.
The worst part in a already crap party is when a mildly drunk chick stands up, wobbles and goes "WOAH I am so wasted," before changing the quiet background music right up so that even people who haven't touched the Ravenclaws dodgy firewhiskey (aka me) will wake up tomorrow with a buzzing headache. It gets shitter still when the soberettes begin to listen to the lyrics of the music and sway along as apart from the odd girl purring stuff about your new designer jeans looking better on her bedroom floor in your ear, there is nothing else to do.
Looking around the room, in comparison to the party quality, it isn't actually a bad turn out, most of my year of course and the what is now deemed 'popular' in this modern world kids from fifth and sixth, also known as the 'orange, I've shagged your brother, his best friend and all five of your cousins within the last hour and now I want the party to start,' you have probably heard of them.
Behind the especially orange wasted gaggle of giggling girls was the entrance to the common room, the door being monitored by a rather shakey looking third year, how that is fair I don't know but as I don't want to end up standing there all evening instead of this comfy armchair I'm not planning on saying anything soon.
I look at my watch; 11:47. Why is time never on your side? And why oh why is nobody changing the tune? I refuse to listen to the same song on repeat all night.
11:58, I think I might have one firewhiskey, where is the harm in that? I tell you where, standing by the third year boy who by now looked scared out of his wits; her hair ginger even in this light and wavey with a slight frizz and this wasn't the first time I'd ever noticed her, certainly tonight it was but there was that time in class. I gulped down another shot. And in the great hall at breakfast. And another. And then when she was passing me in the hall. Then I smashed my glass on the arm rest. She looked up to see where the smash had come from, she was prettier than I remembered but if I hadn't had I few drinks I told myself she wouldn't stand out. I felt a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach which I instantly hated, it felt like I would lose control, like I was no longer driving my own boat, that was about to walk voluntarily off the plank, do something stupid.
She was still looking at me, my head beginning to spin as someone had cranked the music up another noch.
Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love, in love with someone
Ever fallen in, in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with
Blared in my ears. No I thought to myself, no I had not, which in hindsight is stupid as who talks to themselves about a song? I stood up and walked in the direction of this girl, not too sure of her name but she reeled me in more that the average whore.
I was passing the shot girls at this point when one of them jumped off the table and landed on me, my instincts were to hold my hand up in the air until she let go which she didn't. I don't get drunk out of my senses drunk, just a little 'woah hey dude! You are fat' drunk and so I obviously realised in my almost right mind that it wouldn't look good to the pretty girl if I walked over with a tangerine clinging to my neck so I did the thing I thought an gentleman verging on paedophile would do and whispered in tange's ear, "You've had too much to drink love, where's your room?"
She pointed me in the direction of her room and I thought if I quickly dumped her on her bed she might instantly fall asleep and I could get her off my neck.
It is now 12:47 and I'm lying on a comfy bed, not mine and nowhere near as comfy but still, in some cases, a bed is a bed. I never went back down to that party. Pretty ginger who?
CHAPTER 2 coming soon :) but i had made it a smut, i might change it depending on my mood or put it up and if it gets bad reviews i'll take it down, either way im going to keep the rating as an 'M' and if you were wondering this isnt the thing i was promising last week, I'll do that after...maybe :P
review's very happily recieved
Theressomethingaboutthemoon x
