Title: By Any Other Name
Summary: Scorpius expresses what really grinds his gears about one particular girl. And why he loves her because of it.
A/N: FINALLY. Finally this stupid website has let my post this. It's been blocking me for, like, ever. Grr. But yeah, These Things We Have in Common by Aicalas (really cute fic-let, that I totally enjoyed! READ IT. Kthanks.) gave me a bit of inspiration for this fic.
Also, this is pretty much a stand alone. Though this is the general way I view Rose. Just fyi. Haha(:
Ah, also again, I kinda enjoyed listening to Rosé by The Feeling while I wrote this. I think it's a nice little Scorp/Rose song.
. By Any Other Name .
- one shot -
She's got no sense of style.
Her Slytherin robes are never pressed – and she shames their house's name because of it.
Her uniform is never right.
Her tie is always too loose – and never properly at her throat.
Her skirt is for some reason much shorter than all the other girls'.
She never wears a proper girl's oxford shirt.
She always has a boy's on. He assumes that they belong to her brother, or one of her numerous cousins. But then he thinks of her little fan club…and he's not so sure about that.
Her hair is always wild.
Curls go this way, or that, falling out of the plaits she twists it into, the ponies she pulls it up in…
She always has two different pairs of knee-highs on.
Her shoes are ancient.
She doesn't even bother to wear the uniform Mary Jane's, but a pair of combat boots that obviously were bought at some hand-me-down shoppe.
.
She's not very pretty.
She's awkwardly tall.
Her limbs are too long for her body, and she's clumsy all the time – an absolute barmpot.
Her hair is a waist length tangled, mess.
Whenever he is near her it is constantly falling on his books, getting caught in his hands, blowing in his face...
Her eyes are a mucky blue.
Just like the sky before a harsh storm. And, oh, how he hates storms.
Her pale skin is speckled with freckles.
Everywhere. There isn't a space on her that doesn't have one of those brown blotches.
She's too skinny.
Like one of those anorexic American models. And she has no tits; she's as flat as her ruddy little brother.
Her mouth is too big for her face, and it's miss-matched.
Her top lip is hardly visible, while her bottom is bloody ignoramus.
Her teeth are… weird and big. Just like her mouth.
Her nose is really small. And bunny like.
.
She's completely barmy.
She blows off all her classes.
She's lazy.
With a capital zed. The only time she appears to do anything is when she pranks someone out a revenge – or general spite.
She's always sleeping.
Somewhere. And she's always in the spot he wants. Like the library's cushiest chair, under the tree by the lake that has the best view, or sprawled out of the Slytherin Common Room's best couch – the one right in front of the fire.
She stares.
All.
The.
Bleeding.
Time.
Her smile… it's always as if she knows something, something secretive.
.
She's got no sense of style… but she's perfect.
He's keen on the way her robes flow around her like mist.
He's keen on how her shirts are always unbuttoned so her creamy collarbone is visible.
He's keen on her little short skirt and the way, if he stares long enough – and the wind is strong enough – it'll flip up and show off her lace panties.
He's keen on those grotty boots she wears everywhere, because they're so her.
.
She's not very pretty… she's gorgeous.
He adores her mile long legs, he could look at them for days on end.
He adores tangling his fingers into her fiery waves of hair.
He adores the depth of her eyes – and finds that he thinks of her much too often when it rains.
He adores the freckles that are sprinkled over her porcelain doll skin, and the excuse it gives him to kiss every single one.
He adores making her eat food; satisfying her sweet tooth with candies.
He adores how full her lips are, particularly the bottom one.
He adores her teeth and the cute way she bits on her bottom lip when she's deep in thought, or nervous.
He adores the cute little button nose she has.
.
She's completely barmy… and he loves her for it.
He loves that even though she makes everyone believe she doesn't give a shite about her class work, she would never let her parents down in that way.
He loves that she's an evil mastermind when it comes to pranks, and that she always gets even.
He loves that she can fool everyone into believing she's sleeping – when she's really just observing, and listening.
He loves that she knows she doesn't have to be a chatter box to get her point across.
He loves her smile.
.
She's not what he'd planned on – in fact, she's quite obviously the opposite.
She's a Weasley, he's a Malfoy.
She might as well be a Capulet and he a Montague.
She's not meek or polite, or the little delicate flower people first believe her to be.
She has thorns. She's stubborn as a mule and has a sparking temper fueled by fire.
Her hair is wild, just like her personality, and would never be able to be tamed into a ladylike hairstyle.
She's not a proper society woman. But – he enjoys that she speaks what she feels, rather than putting a false smile on.
She's made of angles, where most are made of curves.
He knows that she hates her lack of figure, but he loves her just the way she is.
She's a Rose, and by any other name – may that be barmy or loony or cheeky – she'll always smell just as sweet to him.
Sooooo. Anyone like it? I was bored in my comp class so this was pretty much the result...lol
Oh. And has anyone not heard of the poem/song "Strange Fruit?" If you haven't, got listen/read it. I love it in a completely morbid kind of way. :) It's haunting.
Reviews (AS ALWAYS) are adored. :) Thanks guys!