Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Harry Potter Series. All rights belong to J.K. Rowling.
Warnings: This fanfiction contains gender violence and swearing that some might find offensive.
PLEASE read the author's note at the bottom of this page if you're concerned about the violence. It doesn't make sense in this context, and I swear to God I don't think violence like this is okay.
Tourniquet
Hate is a simple word with many connotations. It's one harsh syllable that bites the tongue as it rolls off with a nearly painfully malicious pleasure. But what does it turn in to when it reaches that deceivingly unreachable climax?
Does it overflow in to a ruthless desperation, or does it simply release what the red haze of pure loathing has pushed back? It's murderous presence stifles positive inclinations that threaten its dominance, and more often than not, we let it.
Rose Weasley knew hate, knew what it felt like to have your blood boil beneath your skin, to feel the overwhelming need to scream at the top of your lungs. Yes, she knew this very, very well.
Ever since she looked in to his slate grey eyes that first time seven years ago, all she could remember was that feeling. When she saw that silky platinum-blonde hair, that sharp pointed nose, thin lips, and haughty smirk, the beast inside of her took over.
The Weasleys are known throughout the wizarding world for their red hair, freckles, heroic tendencies, the ability to breed like rabbits, and their infamous temper. It is quite an intimidating sight to see a towering Weasley with a face as red as their hair bearing down upon you.
Rose Weasley knows this first hand, considering the fact that she grew up surrounded by volatile brothers and cousins and just about every type of relation you can dream up. So naturally, she was quite used to dealing with hot-headed bursts of temper. It also didn't hurt that her own temper was not exactly… balanced, so she could just scream right back at them if the fancy took her.
The only slight flaw in Rose Weasley's foolproof anger prevention techniques was one small fact. She was what one might call… delicate. Yes, she still swears like a sailor and can down a whole bottle of firewhisky without breaking a sweat, but when you grow up being one of two girls in the entire Weasley-Potter second-generation clan, sunbathing in Majorca isn't exactly the erm… normal form of entertainment.
Rose snorted in a very unladylike fashion at the thought. She was starting to sound like a pretentious muggle. She was patrolling the fifth floor corridor by herself. That blasted Malfoy had ditched her once again, and he was Head Boy! He was most likely off with his newest conquest. She could feel her temper rising as she thought about his 'love em and leave em' ways. Rose herself was quite the feminist, and was appalled that some girls actually had so little self-respect. Really!! It's atrocious!
She picked up her pace in order to try and burn off some of her more… negative energy. She decided to forget all about bouncing ferret no. 2 as she affectionately (Ha! When pigs fly!) called him.
She didn't much mind patrolling alone, in fact it was much more relaxing than spending the entire two hours wasting precious breath yelling at Malfoy. God that boy was infuriating. Rose couldn't remember a time that they weren't at each other's throats. It didn't exactly help matters that Rose's father, Ron, had told her stories about how Malfoy's dad was part of a cult that worshipped an evil psychopath who cut up babies and boiled puppies in his spare time. From some of the insults Malfoy threw at her, I think it's safe to say that Draco Malfoy didn't exactly tell his son about what wonderful heroes her parents were.
Within the first three words exchanged between the two, it was obvious that they wouldn't be friends.
Rose dragged her heavy trunk along the corridors of the crowded train. She was about to begin her first year at Hogwarts and couldn't wait. She longed to see the ghosts and poltergeists, the moving paintings, and most of all, the legendary library. She couldn't wait to run her fingers along the dusty leather spines, breathe in the smell of mustiness mixed with the fresh scents of ink and parchment….
Caught up in the throes of her musings, she momentarily forgot that she was traversing a train crowded with bunches of hurrying students. She was unceremoniously pulled out of her orgasmic daydreams of books by a jarring impact, and the sensation of tipping over and landing on something soft and sweet smelling.
She was just about to take another whiff when a loud voice brought her back to reality.
"Ugh! Get off me you foul blood-traitor!" The voice was sneeringly superior. It grated on Rose's nerves, and she immediately jumped up and straightened her robes with as much dignity as she could muster.
She took in the boy that now stood before her. He was a bit taller than her, and was quite attractive with his pointed, aristocratic features, and wide silver eyes. As she was taking all of this in, she suddenly remembered what he had said to her.
Her eyes narrowed, and she immediately recognized him to be the evil little boy that her daddy had pointed out to her, Scorpio or something. He was absolutely right; this boy was clearly a pompous prat with no respect or gentlemanly inclinations.
Rose sniffed haughtily, feeling her infamous temper rearing its ugly head.
"How dare you! You idiotic inbred git!" She reckoned the whole train heard her yelling.
She could feel herself quivering in outraged anger, and grabbed her trunk and yanked it up, pushing unceremoniously past the boy with a rough shove before he even had a chance to reply.
That was the moment that Rose Weasley decided that she hated Scorpius Malfoy.
Rose was brought out of memories by a loud clatter to her left. She jumped two feet in the air, and it took all of her self-control not to scream out loud.
She drew her lit-up wand, and held it in front of herself with a shaking hand. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!" Her voice was loud in the oppressive silence.
The only response she got was a slight rustle from a small alcove behind a suit of armour. She felt beads of sweat form on her forehead as she mentally cursed Malfoy to hell.
Suddenly, a tall, bulky figure disengaged itself from the shadows. It was obviously male. As her lit wand touched on the face of Leon Goyle, her stomach gave a fierce twist. He hadn't actually done anything per say, but he was the perviest guy she knew, and she wasn't exactly comfortable with him alone in a dark, deserted corridor. The creepy smile that chose that moment to appear on his face didn't exactly reassure her.
She held her wand high, and shuffled her feet in to what she liked to think was a defensive stance. Better safe than sorry, right?
This was exactly the type of thing she had been referring to when she said that she was 'delicate'. She was short, only about 5'2'', and had a slender, willowy frame. But her explosive temper and tendency to make it widely known when she didn't like someone has given her an image.
She was known as the tough girl of Gryffindor. She's the type that mostly hangs out with guys, and whom appears rough and unflappable. The boys aren't afraid to tackle her during quidditch matches or throw hard-packed snowballs at her head.
This was all well and good when she was younger, because everyone was basically the same size. But come fifth year, the boys underwent major growth spurts. And man, did they not know their own strength!
Rose however, did not grow, and to this day is one of the smallest seventh years in all of Hogwarts! But yet, she can't seem to shake that 'one of the guys' reputation.
She winced, remembering all of the times she had been tackled by 180-pound boys 'just for fun'. Bloody hell!! Fun? She was left with bruises for days! Those idiot boys.
Other than these occasional friendly attacks, she managed well. Thankfully, she wasn't really the getting in to fights type of girl.
The situation she was in now though, was one she'd always feared. Rose was a fierce verbal sparring partner, and was quick to throw insults, but whenever faced with physical fighting, she shrivelled up in to a wimpy prune. How she got in to Gryffindor, she couldn't fathom.
For what she imagined was the first time in her life, Rose wished that Malfoy were here. She knew for sure that Goyle wouldn't try anything if he were with her like he was supposed to be.
Rose decided to go for the snobby, unaffected Head Girl angle.
"What are you doing out this late, Goyle?! I'm afraid I'll have to deduct points if you don't proceed to your dormitories at once!" She figured that she sounded official and pompous enough, but he didn't look affected in the least.
She watched warily as he strode towards her.
"Now Rosie! Don't be such a spoil sport, love!" his voice was mocking.
By this point, he was only a few feet away from him. She watched, as if in slow motion, his right arm come forward as if to cup her cheek in his hand. With a force that surprised her, Goyle grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers. She struggled, but was no match for him. Just as she started to really panic, she remembered her wand was at the ready in her hand,
Stupefy! " The bright red light that shot out of her outstretched wand hit him directly in the chest.
She watched as he keeled over on to the stone floor with a thud. Good, she thought maliciously, I hope he hits that head of his hard. She noticed she was still shaking, and turned around and hurried towards the Head's dorm.
At first, all she felt was scared and stupid. He hadn't even done anything! Why was she being so wimpy? She just hadn't liked the anticipatory glint in his eyes, and decided that she had acted rationally. She may be paranoid, but if it keeps her safe… then she didn't really give a rat's arse.
She felt her fear and sadness morphing in to something else as she nearly ran down the corridors. She still had a half-hour to patrol, but there was no way she was continuing after that little interlude. She hoped Malfoy wasn't there when she arrived back in the common room.
She suddenly felt a blinding surge of anger fill her. Malfoy. The nerve of that conceited little ferret! She could have been raped and it would be all his fault! That arsehole! She would give him a piece of her mind. Oh yes, she would tell him exactly what she thought of the bloody idiot!
Rose was moving so swiftly in her anger that she almost strode past the painting that led to the Heads' dorm. She stopped herself and very nearly screamed at the poor painting.
"PEACE AND UNITY!" The centaur nearly fell over in surprise and opened, rapidly granting her entrance. He had faced the wrath of Rose Weasley, and did not want a repeat performance. He shuddered at the thought.
By this time, Rose was already stomping loudly in to the common room. She was unsurprised, yet all the more incensed when she saw Malfoy and some blonde bimbo practically eating each other's faces off. Ewww, to think she sat on that couch!
"OUT! GET OUT YOU BLOODY WHORE OR BY GOD I WILL MAKE YOU!" Rose held up her wand threateningly.
The girl, whom Rose faintly remembered to be Isabella Meadowes, quickly untangled herself from Scorpius' arms and fairly sprinted out the door. Rose smirked at Isabella's obvious fright, but it was quickly replaced with a fierce scowl as soon as she set eyes on Malfoy. He was standing angrily in front of her, his own hands clenched at his sides.
"Bloody hell Weasley! What the fuck is your problem you selfish bitch?! Must you ruin everything?!" Malfoy's face was quite pink at this point, and Rose could tell that he was quite angry.
At his words, she felt her hackles rising, and had the sudden urge to remove Malfoy's head from the rest of his body. She felt the dam open up inside of her, and out poured all of her angst, fear and anger.
"You fucking idiot! This is my fault?! You're the one who's shagging the school's biggest whore when you're SUPPOSED to be patrolling with ME! I am sick and tired of you making me do all the fucking work! You are HEAD BOY for Merlin's sake! Act like it! All you bloody do is sit around acting like the stuck up ponce that you are! Well you know what Malfoy?! You may think you're all that, but you're fucking not!
You're a pompous prat with a death eater for a father! I'll bet you'll turn out just like the bastard! Killing children and kicking dogs, huh?! Well that sounds just like you, so no worries there!"
Rose was on a role. She didn't even care that Malfoy was bright red in the face, and that his hands were clenching and unclenching furiously. She didn't notice just how far past his limit she was pushing him. He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she was faster.
"NO! Don't you DARE interrupt me! That's all you ever do! You feel so fucking entitled all the bloody time! You CANNOT do whatever you want. Go stick your pure blooded head up your pure blooded ASS! No one cares about that shit anymore! But oh no, the almighty Scorpius Malfoy is a pure blood! El gaspo! We never would've guessed!
I don't even understand why you're so bloody proud of it! All it means is that you're whole family is full of dark evil murderers, and that you all lack an amazing amount of creativity and open-mindedness! Not to mention the fact that you're all just inbred idiots who're going to go mental before you're thirty because of all the incest!
You're a disgusting excuse for a human being with no respect for anyone else! For God's sake Malfoy! Do us all a favour and get the fuck over yourself! Take some responsibility for once and DON'T act all mighty and superior! NEWSFLASH! YOU'RE NOT!"
Malfoy looked ready to explode. Rose was still consumed by her anger-reddened haze and didn't notice at all. She was gesticulating wildly, her face bright red.
But just as soon as Malfoy looked about to spontaneously combust, he went dead pale. His face was now a papery white, and his shaking hands were the only evidence of his fury. His silver eyes had hardened in to steel, and if Rose had been looking in to his eyes, she would have quailed with fear.
"Weasley… I'm warning you…" His tone was soft and silky. This was even more dangerous than hot explosiveness, this marble-like ice-cold statue of undiluted rage. Obliviously, Rose continued her angry tirade.
"DON'T you even START with me Malfoy! Like you would do anything! A bloody COWARD! Just like your father! He couldn't even stand up to my mum, who by the way, punched him in the face in third year! You know what he did? He ran away CRYING! I guess the family resemblance doesn't end in looks, huh? You're JUST like him! YOU'RE A BLOODY FUCKING COWARD!! GO FUCK -----"
That was as far as Rose got before she found herself slammed against the back wall of the common room, her head banging against it. She shook her head to rid it of dizziness. She felt fear start to creep up on her as she realized what a predicament she was in.
Malfoy towered over her small frame at about 6'1''. His biceps were huge and very defined from years of furious quidditch playing. One of his arms was probably about the size of one of Rose's legs. His large hands gripped her upper arms tightly enough to overlap. He was squeezing so tightly that Rose was sure there would be bruises there tomorrow. She felt tears pool in her eyes as the pain hit her fully.
Rose's eyes were currently fixed on Malfoy's broad, toned chest, which was about where she reached in height.
"I warned you to stop Weasley. I warned you. But you couldn't stop, could you? You never stop. You take everything too far! Well you've pushed me too far this time you little mud blood bitch!" His voice was low and dangerous, but Rose could clearly hear the plain fury behind his words.
At his words, Rose felt herself trembling fearfully. She had never been so scared in her life. Her eyes slowly travelled up his body to meet his eyes. As her own vivid blue orbs met his steely grey gaze, she felt the panic hit her full force.
Malfoy's face, usually so calm, devoid of emotion, was twisted in to a furious scowl, his skin the colour of a corpse. His eyes were what frightened Rose the most though. The usually molten silver pools were hard as rock. They showed no mercy in their depths, only pure, undiluted anger. She had never seen Malfoy this mad before. Ever. He had his fair share of enemies, but never had Rose seen this absolutely ruthless side of him.
It scared her out of her wits. As she assessed her position, it was clear that she was at a severe disadvantage. Malfoy was huge compared to her tiny self, and could easily overpower her. The severity of her situation finally settled in. She had dropped her wand when he pushed her against the wall. He could do anything to her. Anything. And she would be absolutely powerless to stop him.
She hated this feeling. This feeling of utter weakness, of knowing that no matter how much she struggled, no matter how hard she kicked, he was ten times stronger than her. He could force her to do anything. Do anything to her.
Her shaking became worse. She was absolutely petrified. But she is Rose Weasley, and Rose Weasley never gives up without a fight. Through her panic, she felt a determination set in. She began wiggling in his tight grasp, attempting to free her bruised arms. She started struggling more violently and used her position against the wall as leverage to kick out her legs.
As soon as she started, she stopped. Malfoy's teeth were bared as he growled at her feeble attempts to free herself. The sound was the single most chilling thing Rose had ever heard.
"Don't even think about it you fucking whore," He sounded wild and feral. Uncontrolled.
His eyes flashed, and for a second Rose thought she'd gotten lucky as he removed his right hand from her left arm. But instead of letting her go, he pushed her harder in to the wall, and tightened his grip on her left arm. Her breathing accelerated in panic as his right hand came towards her face.
She flinched and closed her eyes, but instead of hitting her across the face like she'd expected, his large came down on her chest, encompassing her throat. Before Rose could let out so much as a squeak, he started squeezing the delicate skin of her neck. He viciously pressed his fingertips in to her neck, cutting off part of her airsupply.
She felt large, fat tears roll down her cheeks. She never thought that she would be in this position. With Malfoy no less! Yes, she knew he hated her, as she hated him, but she never thought he would actually hurt her. She never thought that she'd have to fear him, physically at least. She never thought he'd stoop so low as to actually touch her violently, to hurt someone so obviously unable to defend herself against someone as strong as him.
It was stupid, she knew, but she felt almost… betrayed. Rose felt horrible. She was scared. Scared of Malfoy. All of the things she never really noticed before came in to sharp relief. How much taller he was, how much bigger he was, how much stronger, all of the things he could do to her. She shuddered in horror, knowing that he could do anything at all that he wished, and she would be powerless to stop him. Hadn't her encounter with Goyle been enough? But no, she just had to push her luck as far as it could go. Farther, it seemed.
Still applying painful pressure, Malfoy leant his head down next to her ear and whispered furiously.
"You have no right to say anything about my family. You're just an ignorant little girl who doesn't know a fucking thing. Don't you dare talk about something you know absolutely nothing about! You're wrong Weasley. My father was no coward, and neither am I. You're weak in a way that it's obvious I'm not," He whispered fast and furiously.
Once he was quiet once more, he released her throat. She was sobbing and gasping for breath at the same time when she felt a familiar prickling of anger. How dare he! He was clearly more physically powerful than she, and he had the audacity to call her weak because of it!
"Coward. You are a coward." The words were rough and gravely, but Rose felt strangely proud. She was not weak.
A sharp intake of breath was all that filled the silence after her daring statement.
"How dare you!?" The fury and rage were present in his voice full force.
Before she knew it, she heard a startlingly sharp crack, and felt a stinging pain whip across her left cheek. The pressure on her arm was removed, and she felt her head snap back with the pressure of the slap.
The force of the hit made her light headed and dizzy. As soon as her arm was free, she collapsed. She was barely aware of anything. Her vision was blurred with tears, and sobs mingled with choking emitted from her throbbing throat. She felt her cheek pounding and swelling.
But above all, she felt stupid. Here she was, lying on the floor. No. Scorpius Malfoy did not have power over Rose Weasley. She was strong. Rose could still feel his presence in the room, the silence heavy in the air.
No matter how pathetic and defeated she felt, she could not show him that. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her crying and weeping on the floor at his feet.
Ignoring her surroundings, and the heavy throbbing pain in her arms, on her neck, and on her cheek, she rose to a standing position. Her head spun wildly, and she struggled to keep her eyes open. She stumbled blindly towards the stairs, and wobbled up them, her eyelids drooping. Very nearly tripping numerous times, she shakily twisted the knob to her maroon and gold room.
Once safely inside, she slammed the door, wincing as her head pounded louder and faster at the loud noise. The last thing she remembered was stumbling to her bed and pitching forward. Then everything went black.
The first thing Rose felt upon consciousness was a deeply irritating scratching in her throat. She groaned aloud at the feeling, and winced as the sound produced a sharp pain.
Although she could very much feel her injuries, her head was not pounding frantically, and seemed to be relatively all right except for a small headache. She was level headed once more, and able to think clearly.
She winced as she replayed last night's events in her head. Once again, tears sprang to her eyes. She just felt so pathetic. Is she really that weak? She knew she would look at things differently now. It's kind of hard not to when you suddenly realize that there are people out there who can and will hurt you. Everything just becomes too real. Far too real.
Rose shook her head quickly. She didn't want to think about this. She felt like she was betraying herself. Everything she knew seemed to have been pulled out from underneath her in one night.
Still crying softly, Rose padded quietly to the shared bathroom. According to her alarm clock, it was 5:45 am. Knowing Malfoy wouldn't be up that early, she entered the bathroom without knocking and locked both adjoining doors.
Flicking on the light she mechanically undressed, not bothering to look in the mirror. She was far too scared of what she might find staring back at her. With a flick of her wand, a hot shower was running, and she gratefully stepped under the heated spray.
She took a deep breath, and began to take stock of her injuries. Her cheek and throat were throbbing heavily, and she knew that they would both probably be severely bruised. She gulped and held both arms out in front of her. Even doing this simple task produced an achy pain concentrated in her upper arms.
The sight of her skin sickened her. Black and purple bruising surrounded almost half of her upper arm. The marks were clearly handprint shaped. Rose could pick out each fingertip amongst the bruise. It was a ghastly, ugly thing, and she felt ashamed, ashamed that she was harbouring something so ugly. She imagined she could feel the darkness of the bruise seeping in to her body, tainting her.
She cried as she robotically washed her hair and body, tears mixing with water.
Rose stood in her room in front of her full-length mirror. She had dried off in the bathroom after her shower and put on a baggy pair of sweat pants and a large turtleneck. She was horrified at her reflection in the mirror, just as she'd anticipated she would be.
Her left cheek was entirely covered with a grotesquely coloured handprint shaped bruise. It was swollen and sensitive, painful to the touch. Her neck was horrible too. Blotchy purple and blue marks were painted along the normally milky white skin of her collarbone, and up the smooth expanse of skin at her neck. As with the other injuries, she could clearly make out fingerprints. The clothes covered the bruises on her arms and neck, but the handprint on her face was clearly visible.
She sighed. Today was Wednesday, which meant she still had to go to classes. All she wanted to do was curl up in her soft warm bed and cry. But she was Head Girl, and she still had enough pride left to want to set a good example for other students.
Unfortunately, Rose didn't know any concealing or mark-removing charms. She'd never been much interested in healing, and could not go see Madame Pomfrey. She also wasn't familiar with any beauty charms or the like. She didn't want anyone to know what had happened, even Malfoy, if he didn't already know the extent of the damage.
This only left her one option. Last year for her birthday, in an effort to 'bring out her femininity', her cousin Lily had bought her some magical make-up for her to play around with. She knew that even if she applied a thick coat of the 'Fortifying Foundation', it would not cover the marks totally. They were too dark to be totally concealed. Rose opted to do the best she could with the concealing cream.
She ended up applying a bit of 'Enchanting Eyeliner' and 'Magical Mascara' to make her face look less matte and clown like. The overall effect was pretty good. Although she looked like one of the bimbos who wore pounds of cover up, it hid the bruises well. You could only notice them if you looked really hard. She would just keep her head down, and try to get through the day with as little trouble as possible.
As the shock wore off, Rose's mood became lighter. After all, she'd had worse injuries than this before! She'd had a concussion and a broken leg! This was nothing. You're just blowing this out of proportion, she told herself. Although this made her feel slightly better about the whole situation, the fact that someone had actually made these horrendous marks with his bare hands niggled irritatingly at the back her mind.
Looking at her bedside clock, it read 8:00 am. Classes didn't start until 9:00 am, so she had plenty of time to go down to the little kitchenette off the Heads' common room and have a bowl of cereal. Desperately hoping Malfoy wasn't down there yet, she set off hesitantly to begin a new day.
Entering the kitchenette, she was startled to see Malfoy leaning casually against the shabby countertops, slowly taking sips from a steaming mug. He had a pensive expression on his face, as if thinking deeply, and hadn't yet noticed her presence.
Rose couldn't help but feel slightly uneasy at the sight of him. God, when did he get so huge?! She shook her head sharply. Don't be such a damn pussy, Rose! Get in there and show just how Gryffindor you are! She straightened, and stepped firmly in to the small room watching warily as his head snapped up and his eyes widened.
Damn, she thought, as his eyes rested on her bruised cheek. Malfoy was a seeker on the Slytherin quidditch team, and a good one at that. She hated to admit it, but it was the truth. He was passable on a broom, but his real talent was that he had eyes like a fucking hawk, and was observant as hell. If anyone could see past all her makeup and bravado, it was him. Perfect. She almost snorted at the thought. Could she catch a break? Apparently not. The person who she wanted to appear strongest in front of could now tell there was a huge as fuck bruise on her face.
As she took another cautious step forward, she kept her eyes on Malfoy. She expected to see his patented self-satisfied smirk spread across his face, so was surprised when his mouth dropped open a bit, in what appeared to be shock. His eyes were glued to her cheek, and she saw a range of emotions pass through his flint grey eyes. They were no longer hard and cold, but rather a molten silver that warmed her slightly.
She saw pain, anger, guilt, and shock plain as day in his eyes as they travelled back to her. Weird, she thought. It never for one second crossed her mind that he might actually regret hurting her. I mean, who would have guessed? This is Malfoy we're talking about. Rose still wasn't even sure what to make of his expression. She knew from experience that she couldn't just go about assuming things. He hadn't explicitly vocalized any regret, so who was she to assume he had one shred of moral fibre?
She walked over to the pantry, and tried not to flinch as she passed him. She barely succeeded. After pouring herself a bowl of some random muggle cereal, she grabbed a spoon and sat at the small square kitchen table, intending to eat it dry. The crunching of her chewing filled the silent room, and just as she was about to take a fourth bite, Malfoy's deep voice broke the heavy silence.
"Erm… Weasley, are you… umm…. " he seemed to be struggling with his words, and looked distinctly uncomfortable.
Abruptly, Rose was angry. Now that she was more level headed and not sobbing in foetal position like some senile old lady, she wasn't angry at herself, oh no, she was angry at Malfoy. How DARE he? He was clearly physically superior, and he knew it! What gives him the right to go around beating up girls half his size?! The nerve of that audacious arsehole! Only one thing stopped her from yet again bursting in to hysterics. As much as she didn't want to admit it, even to herself, she was scared of him. Rose did not like the sound of that. No, she thought, she just had a healthy respect for his… erm… physical capabilities. Yes that's it! Pathetic. She couldn't even lie to herself.
"What, Malfoy?" she tried to make her voice strong and loud, but the words only came out in a shaky, breathy whisper.
She glared at him. This was at least something she felt comfortable doing. She tried to convey with her eyes how much she hated him, and just how angry, not mention sad and hurt she was that he had physically harmed her. She wasn't sure that it worked.
Malfoy had placed his coffee on the counter and was shifting uneasily from foot to foot. It was clear that he was having trouble bringing up the topic.
"Sorry about, uh, missing patrol last night," his voice was strained.
"You should be," that was better. At least she sounded more like the Rose Weasley everyone knew and loved with a sharp retort such as that. She was happy to see that Malfoy looked uncomfortable again.
"Well, um, I noticed that you were back early?" the response was phrased like a question.
If the circumstances were better, Rose may have laughed. Slick lady-charming extraordinaire Scorpius Malfoy stumbling over his words like some stuttering first year? Now this was something not often witnessed!
"How very observant of you," Rose was getting back in to the swing of things. But there was still that annoying voice in the back her head, warning her to tread carefully.
What if she made him mad again? Who knew what he was capable of? She sighed lightly. She never thought she'd see the day that Rose Weasley would be afraid of Scorpius Malfoy. She never thought there would be cause to be. But once again, Malfoy had proved her wrong.
"Why," the monosyllabic response grated on Rose's nerves.
"If you must know, I had a rather unpleasant encounter with Goyle, which ended up with me stupefying him. Please inform your dim-witted housemate to refrain from approaching the head girl in such a crude manner in the future," her voice was prim and formal, just as she'd hoped it would be.
Rose knew that Goyle was a friend of Malfoy's, and she couldn't help but be a bit nervous that he might try and seek revenge or something like that. Just being silly, she thought, once again failing to lie to herself. Well, they don't call me the smartest witch of my age for nothing, she thought.
"He what?! Malfoy's voice was loud and borderline angry.
She knew it. Damn it, she thought. She scooted her chair a bit away from where he was standing, and answered haltingly in an anxious whisper.
"Well, I mean I-I was w-w-walking, he approached m-me and w-w-well…" Rose stuttered and tripped over her words horribly, but she didn't have enough dignity left at this point to care.
"Well what?" his voice was still bubbling with anger.
"W-well he didn't really d-d-d- anything, but he was, well you see he kissed me, and I t-tried to get him to stop but he wouldn't, so I kind of…" she trailed off, grimacing at her timid explanation.
She flinched as she watched Malfoy's eyes nearly bug out of his head, and his fists clench furiously at his side. His voice was loud, but he spoke in disjointed sentences and seemed to almost be talking to himself.
"The bastard! …. kill him! …. has no right to touch you!" he continued to mumble and rant.
Rose was shaking in her seat. She wasn't listening to anything Malfoy was saying. She was trembling with fear. He didn't notice Rose's shaking, and took a step towards her.
As soon as she noticed him advancing, instinct took over, and she flew out of her chair and pressed herself against the back wall of the room, her hands coming up to protect her face.
Immediately, Malfoy stopped speaking. After a few moments silence, Rose hesitantly lowered her hands. He seemed to be frozen; one foot extended forward, yet completely still. Their eyes met; silver and cerulean, and the amount of pain and guilt in his astounded her.
All of the previous anger had drained from his features, his face drawn with a burning regret. He straightened suddenly, and nervously clasped his large hands. The tension in the room had dissipated slightly, and was replaced by an electricity that neither of them could ignore.
The kitchenette was quiet for what seemed like hours, until Malfoy broke the charged silence with a voice so soft that Rose nearly missed his words.
"But I'm no better than him, am I? I'm no better than him." The words were simple, but Rose felt just how hard they were for him to say.
With that, he turned abruptly, and left the room. Rose let out a huge breath in a gust. What just happened? She had felt something, something amazing. It warmed her from the roots of her hair right down to the tips of her toes. But what was it? It was safe to say that she had never felt like that before. She'd felt happy and sad, angry and content, but never these amazing feelings of security, and at the same time, a wild freedom. She felt uncontrolled yet grounded. In that moment, she could fly, she could run a thousand miles, she could do anything.
But just as soon as it began, it was gone. As soon as the silence was broken, it vanished, and Rose found herself questioning whether it had even been there in the first place. She shook her head, gradually her breathing calmed and her heart rate returned to normal.
Mechanically, Rose grabbed her messenger bag and school robes and let herself out of the Heads' dorm. As she walked down the sixth floor corridor, her mind ran wild. No matter how much she pondered, she had no idea what that scalding emotion was, all she knew was that she wanted to feel it again.
Rose wearily told Firenze, the centaur in the painting outside the Heads' dorms, the password. He seemed to be relieved that she wasn't screaming and yelling at him and hastily admitted her entrance.
Her day had been boring and uneventful. She barely saw any of her relatives, and thankfully no one noticed the bruises. She saw Headmistress McGonagall shoot her a concerned look during dinner, but that was it.
The only interesting part of her day was during lunch when Goyle walked in to the Great Hall halfway through the meal with a black eye and a busted lip. Almost of their own accord, her eyes flew to Malfoy's, and she was surprised to see a small smile grace the corners of his lips. It made her smile just thinking about it.
At 10:00 p.m, Rose disentangled herself from her Transfiguration homework, and prepared to leave for patrol. She went down the steps to the Heads' common room fully expecting to have to go out alone again. Suffice to say, she was surprised when she saw Malfoy alone in the common room, seemingly waiting for her. She gave him a wide berth as she walked past him, and was once again surprised as he silently followed her out in to the corridor.
The first hour and a half passed in silence. The few times Rose looked over at him, Malfoy seemed to be either deep in thought, or stealing glances at her. He broke the silence as they passed the small alcove on the fifth floor. Rose gave a little start as she realized where they were, and moved closer to Malfoy's side. He noticed her skittishness.
"Are you okay?" his voice seemed loud in the quiet, when he was really only speaking just louder than a whisper.
"Oh, yes I'm quite alright. It's just that this is where; you know…" she trailed off nervously.
"Ah, I see. Well Goyle won't bother you anymore. I took care of it,"
Rose felt her lips curve up in to a smile.
"Yes, I noticed. Thank you for that,"
He grinned back at her, and they both fell silent. There was definitely tension in the air due to the subject that neither of them seemed willing to bring up.
The rest of patrol was silent, and at 12:00 a.m, the two Heads retreated to their common room, both weary and emotionally drained.
Rose could feel her forced calm slipping. When she closed her eyes the air seemed to be crackling and buffeting, moving around her, causing chills and shivers to rack through her body. However, when she opened her eyes, the room was perfectly still and silent; deceivingly calm.
She took a deep breath and shook her head back and forth. She was really going crazy, wasn't she? Imagining tempests and hurricanes in the middle of the Heads' common room! How silly of her. Her mental chastisement was interrupted once again by the low, rough voice of Scorpius Malfoy.
"I can't take this anymore, I just can't!" what started off soft and breathy gradually became louder and more forceful.
Rose turned to look at the attractive blonde. His body was tense, stiff; yet his eyes were wild, moving at frantic speeds in a confusing pattern. Rose took a cautious step forward and was about to respond when he beat her to it.
"I've never done anything like that before. I've never… touched a girl that way. I know that it's fucking wrong; I was raised better than that! But I just… I just got so mad and couldn't stop myself, I couldn't!
I hate myself right now. I mean, I've always believed in fair fighting, and I-I it's obvious that you can't, oh I don't know… you're so fucking small! When I look at you now… see the bruise on your face, I hate myself, so so much. And I know that those aren't the only ones. I can't stand what I've done, I---" he stopped speaking abruptly as she approached him.
Rose was confused. First he had mercilessly hurt her, and now he was sorry. If she had heard it from someone else, she might not have believed it could be true. But standing there, she could read the sincerity in his tortured expression. She sighed. She knew it would take her a very long time to be able to trust him, if she could at all, but his apology still meant something.
Warily, she slowly walked up to him and stretched her arm out until she just an inch from touching him. His eyes were wide with surprise, but he made no effort to move away. Rose spoke in a soft, caressing tone, trying not to lose herself in those molten silver eyes.
"Just... be,"
Those two words were what it took. What it took for everything to change, for both of them. Rose felt free; like everything holding her, everything thing that bound her to the Earth; it was gone. It was if it were never there. She was defying gravity, flying high. She could do anything, anything at all.
High off of this all-consuming emotion, she hesitantly reached forward, spanning that last inch of space, and placed her small, delicate hand over his infinitely larger one. After a moment, she felt his warm hand grasped hers tightly. When Scorpius was this way with her, this sensitive and emotional, it was hard for her to be nervous or afraid. Even though there was no anger marring his handsome features, there was still that voice in her head telling her to run. Her body was still slightly tensed, waiting for something to happen. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't completely relax in his presence, she wondered if she ever would.
The feeling continued to course through her veins, totally taking over her body. She let it. The electricity that she had felt in the kitchen; that was nothing compared to this. The liberty made her feel wild, like she could do anything, yet there was something, still one thing that encompassed her, one thing that made sure she didn't just float away. It wrapped around her, compressing and squeezing and pressuring.
One might have though this uncomfortable, claustrophobic even, but not to her. It was an intoxicating mix of both opposites, a nearly painful pleasure. The feeling was much akin to hate, she noted, but to her this was far more powerful, even though she had no idea what it was. She hoped that in time she would be able to completely forgive Scorpius, but not for awhile she knew. His touch still inspired a spark of fear, but also something else, this wild emotion. Something incredible, yet undefinable.
The feeling still surrounded her, tight as a tourniquet, but she did not even contemplate freeing herself from this force, oh no, not this one. For possibly the first time in her life, Rose Weasley did not want to be in control, she did not want to be free.
FIN
A/N Okay. First I just wanted to thank you all for reading this and if you have any input I would greatly appreciate a review. Now I know that I probably made out Rose to be some abuse-condoning wimp, but I really didn't mean to! As I read it over, I can see that I made Scorpius a bit too violent. The very end is just the first step for them on what I'm sure is going to be a long road to complete forgiveness.
This fic was actually kind of an excercise preceding a post-war Dramione that I'm writing. It is going to be heavily based on violence from both parties, and will be much more in-depth and angsty than this. Love will not come until the very end. The only reason I brought up love in this fic at all was that it's supposed to be a one-shot, and I just wanted to wrap it up. Even so, neither of them recognize the emotion as love yet.
I'm sorry if I offended anyone or anything with this. I digress, it is kind of unbalanced, but then since when is there anything balanced and normal about forbidden love? I just wanted you guys to know that I don't in any way condone domestic abuse or whatever. The violence in my Dramione will make more sense, I promise.
Thanks For Reading,
Darkness
P.S. I may write a sequel at some point, so keep your eyes open.