Chapter 1: The Last First Day
I roll over and am immediately affronted by blinding white sunlight. Why are my curtains open? I could have sworn that I closed them before I finally went to sleep. I distinctly remember shutting them after I grew tired of reading my latest romance novel. I grab my pillow and bury my face with it, groaning loudly. I would have loved to float back into dreamland. I don't remember the dream I was having but I know from the snippets I do remember it was particularly delicious. I close my eyes and brief glimpses tease my eyelids with visions of broom closets and white blond hair. Wait, what?! I only know of one person with that particular hue of hair. No, no, no, no, no, no. That is not okay, not in the slightest. I ground my palms into my eyes trying to banish the offensive thoughts from my brain. There was this one time in fifth year in the library with that blond-haired smirk-faced git, but I've blamed that on total sleep deprivation and a possible love potion. I never attained the evidence to prove my theory true. I vowed to myself that, that would never ever ever happen again. I squirm in disgust and horror just thinking about it.
My alarm chooses then to rear its loud, annoying head. I smack it and stop the incessant buzzing noise. I sit up and stretch my arms high above my head, trying to shake the sleep out of my my shoulders, I walk over to my vanity table and plop down in front of the mirror, frowning at my reflection. The summer sun had not been kind to my ivory skin no matter how much sunscreen I had slathered on. Hundreds of new freckles littered my face and shoulders, compared to the end of 6th year. My hair was a wild mass of ginger curls that not even the strongest combination of defrizzing and smoothing potions could tame. I run my hands through it trying to sustain some order but to no avail. I might as well be Merida from the muggle movie Brave. All I need is the bow and arrow and thick Scottish accent. My icy blue eyes stare back at me innocently like a wide-eyed fawn. I don't look at all like an adult. My 17th birthday was last week, but I still resemble the same baby bird I always had. Being 5'0" also made it hard to believe that I was of age and a 7th year.
Today is my last first day ever at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm almost a full-fledged witch and ready to move into the adult wizarding world, and that is truly terrifying. I have no reason to be worried. I'm a model student, even if I do get in my fair share of trouble and have Outstandings in all of my subjects, I just have no clue what I want to do with my life and if it would be acceptable to apply myself in that particular field and that I would enjoy my time after I finish my education. No opportunity is barred for me. Being the only daughter of two-thirds of The Golden Trio, I have the entire world open for me. But the only thing I truly treasure is writing trashy romance novels. I've wanted to tell my family, but I know they'll tell me I'm wasting my gifts as a brilliant witch, that I could apply my immense knowledge in any magical career of my choosing. If it wasn't for the support of my cousins Roxxie, Albus, and Freddy, I would have never even attempted to write my own stories. We were joking one night about Roxxie's horrible choices in men when they suggested I write her the perfect man, like out of one of my many novels I'm always reading. It turned out I had a real knack for creating fictional illicit affairs between muscular, hot-tempered men and busty, faint of heart women. So I haven't stopped writing since. I even run a bi-weekly column in the underground newspaper Magic and Mischief, a tell-all about the going on's at Hogwarts. I use a pseudonym, Mora Munroe, but at least I'm exercising my passions. It's quite popular with most of the girls around school and the feedback I get is mostly positive so it encourages me to stick with it. I just hope one day I can write professionally.
It doesn't do me any good to sit and mope about it now. I move to open my closet and move along with my day. I change into a navy circle skirt and oversized creme sweater and lace up my tattered brown boots. I layer some mascara on my already dark, long lashes making them darker and longer. I stare into my mirror, blowing a stray curl off my face. Well, that's as good as it's going to get, I'm afraid.
My dad pokes his head inside my room and grins his goofy, pearly white smile. "Rosie, dear, I was hoping you were still asleep. I wanted to wake you." His eyes gleam with proud father tears.
"Dad, please don't start with the waterworks. It's only seventh year. It's not like I'm getting married, or have won a Nobel Peace Prize, or cured dragon pox" He laughs, a round and full belly laugh.
"Of course it's a big deal my little Rosie Posie." He picks me up and swings me around like when I was little. "You're a woman now. As much as I hate to admit." He plants a kiss atop my head and places me gently on the ground. "I'm so proud of you, Rose, I really am."
"Thank you, Daddy. I'm proud of me too," I joke. "I'll race you downstairs. I smell something delicious and Mum's Going Away Breakfasts are always the absolute best." He nods and takes off with a grin. I smirk and apparate to the kitchen with a snap of my fingers. Dad bursts in a few seconds later celebrating his supposed victory with a little dance.
I laugh at his childish antics. "Ah, Dad, I believe you've already forgotten that I'm an adult and can in fact, apparate."
"But that's cheating. 'Mione tell her that's cheating." He stamps his foot like a boy who believes the world is unfair.
"Ronald Weasley, you are a grown man. Tell her yourself." She giggles and plants a kiss on her husband's cheek as she carries a plate piled high with almond pancakes, my favorite, to the table. "Now, eat up everyone. We'll be off to King's Crossing within the hour." We all dig in, enjoying our last meal together as a family until Christmas.
The Hogwarts Express promptly pulls out of Platform 9 ¾ at 11:00 AM. The entire Potter-Weasley clan is crammed into one carriage waving madly and calling out to their parents, graduated siblings, friends, and extended family. I do try to resist the urge to make a fool of myself this year by calling out my goodbyes and well wishes, but of course, I'm not strong enough to resist the urge, and I, too, am mixed up in all the hubbub and excitement. I even got a little teary-eyed when it finally hits that this would be one of my last rides to Hogwarts. I look over and see the same glum look on Roxxie's face, tears streaking her cheeks. Albus is wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve while trying to play it off like his allergies are getting the best of him. Fred is calmly staring at his nails with his normal devil-may-care attitude. This isn't his first go 'round of 7th year though. He didn't do very well last year, to put it kindly. He was too busy chasing girls, pulling pranks, and playing quidditch to worry about his N.E.W.T.s. Headmaster McGonagall graciously agreed to let him retake the year after the strong groveling of Uncle George. Even though Freddy is going to play quidditch and eventually take over Weasley Wizard Wheezes, George said he must graduate if he wishes to do either. I think he feels guilty he didn't finish with his class, but at the time it was best for Uncle Fred and himself.
As we make our way through the Scottish countryside, most of the Potters and Weasleys file out of our car and make their way to carriages with their friends, leaving Albus, Freddy, Roxxie, and I to chatter about the year to come. It seems like just yesterday we were all in this same place for the first time, nervous and jittery and excited to start our own Hogwarts adventure, and now it's coming to an end. I stare out the window as the green hills and shrubs roll by. Freddy's voice pulls me out of my reverie.
"So, Rosie, write any more smut for your adoring legion of thirsty teenage fans?"
My face flushes a deep crimson. Now don't get me wrong, I am not ashamed of what I write in the slightest, but I do get a tad bit embarrassed when asked to talk about it aloud and Freddy is fully aware of this. He just likes to watch me squirm.
"Erm… Actually, I have been working on a new series to debut at the start of term. It's about this well-to-do society woman who falls in love with this captain who just so happens to lead a band of pirates. She dresses as a young sailor to get aboard his ship and…."
"No! Don't say anymore!" Roxxie covers her ears with her hands. She's shaking her kinky auburn curls furiously. "Spoilers, Rose! Spoilers! I want to read it as it comes out. I don't want to know any major plot points before they happen."
We all start laughing at Roxxie's fangirling antics and the realization that I truly have a legion of thirsty teenagers, well at least one, when there's a knock on the compartment door. I turn toward the sound and my eyes fall on the lanky 6'0" marble statue that makes up Scorpius Malfoy. His shaggy white blond hair falls across his eyes. He gingerly pushes it away with long, slender fingers. He stands draped against the doorframe with his ankles and arms crossed and his trademark smirk plastered across his angular jaw. If I hadn't learned to contain my obvious appreciation for the physique that is Scorpius long ago, my jaw would be skimming the floor just as Roxxie's is. It's a normal reaction when around the Malfoy boy. Don't let his gorgeous exterior fool you though. This wolf in sheep's clothing has been ruffling my feathers since we were 11 years old, whether it be in academics, athletics, or pranking he always tries to out-do me in every aspect of life. I mean we don't exactly hate each other but he tends to be quite the annoyance for me, and half way through 1st year I made a vow to myself that I would never fall for him, ever. Albeit, I was young and never stopped to think about how attractive he may be one day, but our rivalry, of sorts, has made keeping my promise quite easy.
I shift my eyes away from his long frame and gaze out the window, my cheeks becoming more like my namesake as I recall my dream from earlier.
"What's all this ruckus about," Scorpius drawls in his Scottish accent.
"Oh, Roxxie here was just telling us about how she almost got her hair singed off by a blast-ended skrewt while she doing her internship in magical creature care," Freddy answers, recovering first from the giggles.
"Oh yes. It was quite a blast." Roxxie rolls her eyes and twirls her hair around her finger.
We've all gotten really good at lying ever since I started writing. We have to be quick so we don't slip and tell someone what we were actually talking about. Thankfully, we've never been caught, but it's always a risk to talk about my secret hobby in public. It's not that anything bad would come if my secret was to be found out. I just don't want people to treat me differently if they do.
"Mind if I sit and join you all then? My compartment is quite boring. I've grown tired of listening to stories about Slytherins proving how much money they have and what they've thrown it away on over the holiday. Plus, you've stolen my wittle Alby-Walby and I've just missed him so much." Scorpius cooes in baby-spek at Albus and fluffs his already untidy hair.
The gang agrees and they fling themselves into idle chatter about summer break and some Italian broad that Scorpius was with most of the holiday. I pull my journal out of my carry-on and immerse myself into the land of seven seas, pirate ships, bar wenches, and stolen kisses on uncharted islands.
I had been writing uninterruptedly until I could feel eyes staring at me intently. I look up and lock glances with Scorpius. His molten grey eyes holding my gaze, vying for me to look away first. The corner of his lip quirks up when he realizes I will not back down from his unspoken challenge. His voice rises over the current conversation.
"Whotcha' writing over there, Red?" He used that awful childhood nickname. I know he's trying to get under my skin. He only ever calls me Red when he's trying to start something with me.
I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant about it. "Just thoughts, lists, the usual type of things organized people write when preparing for a new term. Nothing special."
"You looked awfully happy for someone writing lists," he counters.
"I'm always happy when I know I'm already ahead of you, Malfoy. It's just all part of my charm." I blink rapidly, playing off of my big, doe eyes. The brat pack snickers in response.
"I have a feeling you're hiding something, Weasley. I've always had this niggling feeling about you, and plan to find out what it is this year."
"Go ahead and tire yourself out looking for something that's not there. I'll be too busy being better than you in everything like I have for the past six years." I stick my tongue out at him, childishly and he laughs at my lackluster threat.
I stand up and sashay out of the compartment off to the loo and to find the trolley. I most definitely need some pumpkin pasties to make it through the rest of the train ride.
I pay the woman at the trolley, turn back toward my car and stuff an entire pasty in my mouth.
"That was the most ladylike thing I've ever seen, Weasley." Scorpius smirks.
He's leaning against the wall again, ankles and arms crossed. Why does he always do that? Does he believe he looks cooler like that? Come on, who does that?
I cover my mouth and try to swallow. It's difficult but I manage to swallow the pasty with just a tiny bit of dignity left.
"I wasn't aware you became a stalker over the summer. I heard they make quite good pay in Diagon Alley. Maybe you should check it out sometime. Like now, for example." I'm trying to stare up at him to appear somewhat intimidating, but my extremely short stature makes it nearly impossible.
"Your insults never did come close to par." He pats me on my head demeaningly. "I actually wanted to try something before I have to change into my robes." Scorpius starts walking closer to me, resembling a predatory snake about to strike at a scared, little mouse.
I put my hands up as a shield to try to distance him from me. "Sss…scor...Scorpius, what in Merlin's name do you think you're doing?" I was now backed against the wall of the train with only six inches between Scorpius and myself. My hands were pressed against his supple chest, failing in their attempt to shield me. All the sounds of the train and the people had been sucked away and there was only the sound of my heartbeat.
He slowly places his hands on the wall, forming a cage around me. My clear, blue eyes are being held captive by his mercury, grey eyes and I make no attempt to escape. He leans down to whisper in my ear. His breath hot against my cheek.
"I'm going to kiss you. Push me away now if you don't want me to," he murmers huskily.
He waits a beat and when I make no sudden movements to stop him his lips caress mine softly, just the lightest touch at first. His hand slips from the wall to cradle my cheek. It's like my brain is completely frozen but my body is working on a will of it's own. I increase the pressure of our lips and he takes that as his cue to deepen our kiss. He probes my top lip with his tongue seeking entry to my mouth. I sigh into him as our mouths crash upon one another. My hands still on his chest, clinch around his white t-shirt. His other hands slip down to rest on the curve of my waist. Whatever space that was once between us has vanished. The kiss is becoming more frenzied as if we depend on each other to survive. I throw my head back as his mouth hungrily kisses it's way down my neck. I've never heard myself make such satisfied little moans in all my life. It's like I had donned one of my character's skins and this was just some odd out of body experience.
And just like that my brain snapped back into working mode and I remembered where I was, who I was with, and what was going on. I unclinch Scorpius' shirt and push him away. He's breathing hard. Winded, like he's been running. His smirk creeps on his face, making him look entirely too proud of myself. I slap my hands over my mouth in disbelief of what had just occurred. I'm sure I'm as red as my hair. Merlin, what have I done. No, what has he done.
He laughs and pushes a stray curl back behind my ear. I slap his hand away. "Why did you just do that." I cry. I'm absolutely mortified I let him do that. It may have been the best kiss of my life, but it was also Malfoy.
"Because it was in your face," he says, still smirking.
I groan, "No. Not the hair. I could care less about the hair. Why? Why did you kiss me?" I'm talking way too fast now but I can't stop myself.
"Oh, that," he shrugs, " I don't know. I just wanted to, I guess." He smiles brightly at me. He has one of those smiles that could light your way in the dark, if need be. Or if you were to stare at it too long, it might blind you, much like the sun.
I'm just standing there dumbfounded at a total loss for words. A first for me, in fact. I lift my hand as if I'm going to say something and end up dropping it back down to my side again. I literally have no words. I just stare at him completely shocked to my core. I blink at him trying to communicate the thunderstorm of thoughts and emotions I have through the flutter of my eyelashes.
Well, I guess he doesn't comprehend the meaning of blinks because he laughs one last time and turns to walk away. He calls over his shoulder, "See you around, Rose." He gives me a weird little salute, as well.
I sink to the ground. My legs no longer able to support my weight. I touch my lips reveling in their slightly swollen state. What in the actual world of fucks just happened? I bring my knees up to my chest trying to process the last ten or so minutes. I shake my head at the ridiculousness of it all. My pumpkin pasties lay on the floor beside me having been long forgotten. Oh wait, that was the first time he's ever called me Rose.