QL
Falmouth Falcons,Beater 1
Mandatory: Scream 4
Optional: (object) letter, (object) toy car, (emotion) envy, (word) watch, (genre) angst
Note: Inspired by the fact that Jill was driven to murder because she was jealous of Sidney
Word Count: 1515
You watch; you wait.
No one cares that you've lost your first tooth. The adults are too busy showering Rose with praise.
Perfect little Rosie's first display of accidental magic is just so important.
"That's my girl," Grandpa says, patting Rose's head fondly. "Always knew you were a clever one."
"I swear, it was like she already had it under control," Uncle Ron insists.
And it goes on like that. You stand in the shadows, and you watch them fawn over her.
"Everything okay, Lily?" your mum asks.
But you don't get a chance to even lie. Within seconds, her attention is back on Rose, and you're left there, holding your tooth in your hand.
All anyone cares about is Rose.
…
You watch; you wait.
It isn't Rose's fault that she's older, which means that her Hogwarts letter comes before yours. Does she have to look so smug as everyone fawns over her? It doesn't matter that it's a big deal, that everyone gets this same treatment.
It isn't fair.
She's still holding her letter; she probably hasn't even put it down since its arrival. Her focus keep shifting back to that bit of parchment, like it's the greatest thing in the world.
"I think I'll be in Ravenclaw," Rose says as Grandma cuts her a big slice of cake. "Gryffindor would be nice, though. Maybe even Hufflepuff." She grins, gripping her fork and licking her lips. "Anything but Slytherin."
You sink back into the shadows, making yourself small. You pull a shiny toy car from your pocket, placing it on the table and pushing it back and forth as a distraction.
No one seems to see you at all. Who would notice a humble lily next to a glorious rose?
…
You watch; you wait.
"Potter, Lily!"
As you pass the Gryffindor table, Rose offers you a smile before leaning in and whispering something to James. You tremble as you sit on the stool in front of the rest of the school. All eyes are on you, and your stomach knots. You think you might throw up.
The Sorting Hat takes only a few seconds. There is no voice in your head whispering, trying to decide what your defining trait is. It barely even touches your head before it announces, "SLYTHERIN!"
The world stops turning for a moment.
Your dad says there's nothing wrong with Slytherin. He's talked about one of the men Albus is named after, how he had been a Slytherin.
It doesn't matter. Time doesn't always heal, and Slytherin still has a reputation. You can see it in Rose's eyes when she looks at you with a cross between pity and disappointment.
"Kindly make your way to your table, Miss Potter."
You force yourself to move. Rose still watches you, and you're certain you see her laugh.
It isn't fair. You've always wanted to be in Gryffindor like your parents; Rose hadn't even wanted to follow in her parents' footsteps. Why does she get to live your dream?
You sit far away from the rest of your Housemates, and you keep your gaze on the back of Rose's head.
Rivalry no longer describes it. You hate your stupid, perfect cousin and her stupid, perfect life.
…
You watch; you wait.
Scorpius is your best friend, and maybe you should be happy with that. How many girls are lucky enough to have a bloke who actually understands them? True friends are hard to find, and you should feel grateful.
Instead, you want more.
There's something about the way his lips quirk and his eyes brighten whenever he's excited that makes you melt. By your fourth year, you've memorized the exact shade of his white-blond hair whenever he's bathed in the sunlight, and it's all you see when you fall asleep.
But you are inadequate. His eyes always drift whenever Rose walks by, and sometimes he even drools.
"She doesn't even know you exist," you snap.
Scorpius doesn't even flinch at your sharp tone. His crystal blue eyes remain fixed upon Rose as she sits with James and Albus. "She knows I exist," he says, exhaling deeply and slumping forward. "The problem is that she doesn't like me."
That isn't quite true. Sometimes you see Rose looking at him whenever he isn't watching.
You don't tell him this. Maybe it's inevitable that they'll end up together, but you don't care. If you can keep him to yourself a little longer, you will.
…
You're tired of watching and waiting.
When your prefect badge arrives, you don't bother making a big deal about it. Grandma will fix you a special cake at the next big family dinner, but it won't really matter.
Everyone is too concerned with the latest scandal to care about your accomplishments. Somehow, even when Rose is at the center of controversy, she's all anyone seems to talk about.
A Malfoy and a Weasley. Hugo says that Uncle Ron fainted at the news. Mum says Scorpius isn't his father, and that Scorpius seems like a good match for Rose. James says if Scorpius breaks Rose's heart, he'll kill him.
So many different reactions, but one thing is certain: Rose remains the center of everyone's universe.
You sigh and pin the badge to your chest, admiring your reflection in the mirror. You don't need anyone else to be proud of you; you are enough.
…
You watch, but you don't bother to wait anymore.
Everyone's attention is on Rose and the diamond on her finger. Why should anyone care that you've been made Head Girl? This is such an important milestone in Rose's life, after all. She's going to get married, and you should fall in line and squeal like everyone else.
Tears sting your eyes, and your blood begins to boil.
It's always Rose. Perfect Rose. Rosie the golden girl.
For seventeen years, you've stayed in her shadow, never receiving the recognition you deserve. No one cares about you. Why should they? Compared to Rose, you're nothing.
Your jaw clenches until the tension makes your face ache.
Something has to be done.
…
You watch; you wait.
Rose hadn't even invited you to her hen night. You wonder if it's because she doesn't want her image sullied by her Slytherin cousin, if she wants the world to forget you exist at all. It wouldn't matter as much if the rest of your female cousins hadn't been invited. You sit, enveloped by shadows at the other end of the pub, and you hate her even more.
It doesn't take long for you to find the perfect opportunity. Rose excuses herself, and you follow her out, hiding in the shadows. Even when you're outside and your shoes crunch over the empty, snow-covered street, she still doesn't seem to notice you at all. You try not to laugh. No one has ever really paid attention to you before. Why should they start now?
"I suppose I ought to congratulate you," you say.
She turns, red hair whipping against her face. "Lils!" Her lips tug into a broad grin, and she stumbles whenever she steps toward you. "You made it!"
"Sorry I'm late. I was never invited…"
She pushes her hair out of her face, revealing how glassy her eyes are. You've never seen her drunk before, but she seems to be fairly out of it now. As she tries to focus on you, she sways slightly, giggling. "Of course you were. I…" Her brows knit together. "I… didn't invite you… Lils, I'm—"
"Save it," you snap, stalking closer. "Why should I matter to you when you have everything?"
"What are you talking about?" Rose asks, taking a step back, still wobbling unsteadily.
"Don't play dumb. Everyone knows you're far too perfect for that."
Rose doesn't answer. With each step you take toward her, she moves back. You wonder if her confusion is genuine, or if she's just too drunk to realize how miserable she's made your life.
It doesn't matter. You don't care about her excuses. You've spent your entire life having to hear how perfect she is, how wonderful she is. It's finally your time to shine
You draw your wand, and your cousin stops. "Lily, what are you doing?" she asks.
It would be so easy to use the Killing Curse. Merlin knows your hatred is strong enough, but you can't bring yourself to do it. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Her limbs snap to her side, and her body goes completely rigid. A second later, she crashes, her head striking against the ground with a sickening crack.
You stick around long enough to see blood spill from the wound, staining the pristine snow; then you're gone.
…
You watch as they lower Rose's coffin into the ground.
You had assumed getting rid of her would bring you peace. Instead, all you hear is her name. Everyone cries and talks about how tragic it is, how she was such a bright witch with a bright future.
Even in death, everyone loves her more.
You bite back a laugh. Maybe you should have killed yourself.