A/N: This is the FIRST FANFICTION I HAVE EVER UPLOADED! So I'm really unfamiliar with the formatting and well, who am I kidding... everything. I have no CLUE what I'm doing. You wouldn't believe how long it took for me to figure out how to post this thing. Honestly. Much too long. I don't own Harry Potter... If you couldn't tell. But I do own this story, and I'd love some of your feedback! It's not going to grow out of control, I'll promise you that. More like 10 short chapters. MAYBE. But review and we'll see...
I sit off in the corner of my bedroom, glaring daggers at the boy in my bed. Hey! Don't jump to conclusions, we aren't alone.
My mum and Aunt Ginny are cooing and fussing over him. Victoire, our resident Healer-in-Training, accompanied by Auntie Fleur are smothering him with strange experimental salves Vic nabbed from school. I'm not paying them any particular mind, but if I were, I'd be party to them blabbering stuff off like:
"And after I finish my internship then I think I'm going to specialize in pediatric healing, because… well…I think it'd be somuch fun to dig Knuts and Chocolate Frog Cards out of ungrateful children's stomachs!"
"You 'ave 'eard of zee work I did in zee aftermath of zee second Wizarding War? You 'aven't!? Vell… my contribution vas invaluable!"
Even my dad is seated on a stool near the head of the bed, placidly obeying the edicts aimed in his general direction while chatting animatedly with the ever-loving bane of my existence.
My dad, MY DAD, the only ally I usually have under these circumstances, the same dad who should be fuming and huffing, "Get that rotten Ferret out of my daughter's bed and out of this house!", was instead chatting up Malfoy.
"So… let me get this straight… you caught her, took a rogue bludger to the collarbone, andcaught the snitch? All in one play!?" My father squeals like the little girl he becomes when Quidditch is involved.
"Yes sir, but it all happened so quickly- in matter of seconds." Malfoy responds, smiling sweetly and then wincing slightly as Victoire pressed a saturated cloth to one of the many gaping cuts on his pasty body. I hope it stings, Malfoy.
"And you nearly crashed!" Dad says, awed.
"But I landed just right, not a scratch on Rose!" Malfoy exclaims, seemingly quite proud of himself. Ugh, die, ferret scum.Dad looks like he could burst with joy.
A ferrety smirk twitches at the corner of his lips. His eyes lock with mine. I feel violated, like he's either trying to eye-rape me or eye-hook-me-in the-face. The effect is a bit of a combination and I give him the single most hideous… disdainful expression I can manage. He chuckles. Or… he tries to chuckle and karma kicks him in the ribs, shutting him up.
"See now Ronald, Albus' always telling you that Scorpius is a good boy!" Ginny says. I huff and tug my scarf up around my face. Uncle Harry walks in followed closely by his eldest son.
"So what about this play, now?" James inquires. He'd recently been drafted by some fancy-pants team God know where. Hopefully someplace sufficiently far, far away. Like Atlantis or perhaps the Bermuda Triangle.
Lilly strolls in with a basin of steamy water and perches herself near Malfoy's feet, batting her eyelashes and gazing languidly at him. Why oh why would you oogle such an ugly git, dear, sweet cousin? Please note the sarcasm.
Teddy squeezes through the doorway and rushes to put an arm around his fiancé. Victoire smiles warmly at the boy with blue hair and he pecks her cheek. Bleh. Well… admittedly it isadorable. Letting it slip. Just this once.
"It was magnificent. I couldn't get to her in time, Albus n' Fred neither, she was too far out, but Scorp was there in a flash. Bad time to use the loo, James," Teddy exclaims all in one breath.
Molly, Lysander, Luna, Uncle George, Roxanne, Uncle Neville, Hagrid, his GIANT wife (literally, not just offensively), and all the rest squeeze into my room, which is the real miracle here, not some stupid Quidditch play and supposed rescue by some stupid blond haired, grey-eyed, pasty freak!
I mean 'LET'S PAUSE CHRISTMAS, MALFOY HAS A STORY TO TELL'. Too bad we didn't catch it on film elsewise we could just watch his magnificence on a loop from now till' New Years.
"It's not the first time this's happened neither, eh, Scorp?" Albus says slyly as he leans up against my dresser, ruffling his black hair. The 'super-studly' hair ruffle is made null not two seconds after when he reaches up to adjust his glasses on his nose.
"Oh yes, Scorpius is always doing amazing things on the Quidditch pitch!" Lilly gushes; Lilly's loyal side-kick *cough, cough*, I mean our cousin Lucy nods reverently in agreement. Amazing things on the Quidditch pitch? Psh, heck yeah. Like snogging Sleazy Peony Brown and Fugly Pugly Parkinson at the same freaking time. Like a one on either side of his lips kinda deal. The rumors only get worse from there…
"No I mean saving Rose's arse," Albus continues smiling widely. I flick a couple thousand mental daggers at the twerp before turning my scathing gaze back to the King Git. He's pulling a face like "yes, I am the messiah- grovel at my feet".
"Really? You're keeping my little girl safe? Ah! I always liked him! Didn't I say that honey? Always liked him. Never thought you'd be like your dad. Gryffindor material. I figured from the first time I laid eyes on you that you and Rosie'd end up together. Right honey. Right?" Dad's blabbering to Mom.
Mom rolls her eyes. Now Malfoy's burning up. Dang that boy can blush. No wonder he fits in like a missing jigsaw piece around here. He's a natural Weasley. I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror hanging above my vanity. Good Merlin am I worse!
"It figures she'd fall for a Gryffindor! Fall! Haha! She really fell!" Dad just doesn't know when to stop.
"She'd better marry a good Gryffindor boy like Scorpius. All those slimy Slytherin gits I'd catch her hanging all over in Hogwarts…" James mutters, trailing off.
"Sketchy characters- those boys," Hagrid mumbles.
Luna has this dreamy far-away look in her eyes and I know she's just dying to publish the details of Scorpius and I's fictional betrothal in the next edition of the Quibbler. Do it and you're gonna' have a heck of a lot more to worry about than Nargles, Luna.
Half of the freaking school is present, so naturally I'm embarrassed to muteness. And Malfoy looks about the same. Hailed as hero he basks in the limelight, flirting with Rose- well that's overstepping, there.
"Treat her well, Scorp and you have my blessing."
"What the bloody hell Dad!" I shout, finally finding my voice. What happened to demon-spawn-of-Malfoy? We are NOT calling him Scorp. And he does not need your blessing for anything. Ever.
"Watch your mouth Rose!" Dad mutters half-heartedly, "She's got quite a tongue, my Rosie."
"C'mon tell us what happened!"
"Oh! Albus! What about that sweater incident?"
"Rumor has it that Rose was shirtless in potions; I mean flashing the whole class and good old Scorp here let her borrow his Quidditch jumper." Hugo announces proudly. I'm gonna kill you next Hugo. Look out little rat.
"Bloody hell Rose!" Dad hollers turning on me. Watch your mouth, Dad.
"Oh my! It was my fault!" Hannah Longbottom confesses. She blushes. "I'm just so clumsy."
"No… it was definitely Roses' fault." Albus shrugs, "Elaborate Scorp." He looks like he's finally gotten a few good breaths in, so he staggers out:
"Well… Al and I were walking into Double Potions…"'
But really. If I'm going to relate this story. I'm going to do it myway.
This story starts in Potions, the absolute bane of my existence. The only things that could compete with my awful cooking abilities are my catastrophic brewing abilities. A sedulous studying regiment and constant vigilance- that's all that's keeping me from Trolling.
That's right powdered unicorn horn- I'm watching you, you little bastard.
"So I was thinking…" A voice begins. I look up. Albus Potter. Cousin. Chaser. Gryffindor. He's sauntering into Advanced Potions. As late as wizardly possible.
"You honestly want to crash thatSlytherin party?" The face of thisvoice turns, a small smile tugging on the corner of his pale lips, and then he winks at me.
He winks at me.
He winkedat me?
What the hell was that!?
Constant vigilance out the window, I jerk my hand back, slamming it hard against someone's Cauldron. A dull pain throbs through my fingers, and I let out a tiny gasp as black gunk splashes across my jumper.
Hannah Longbottom. Potions partner. Family friend. Hufflepuff. Is muttering a string of apologies and looks to be about on the verge of tears.
"Its fine," I hiss, with a little more venom than necessary. It's not her fault, Rose, you're a total klutz. I feel like I'm going to start blubbering, myself. I started to prepare for the inevitable embarrassment.
I look down and raise my hand, noncommittal. I'm expecting to see a soiled jumper, and instead I see the pale skin of my stomach peeking out at me. The potion is… eating my jumper? This potion is EATING my jumper!
And suddenly I don't have a jumper anymore. And it wasn't because of the potion, which would have eaten through my skin, given the chance, but because he flung it over my head.
Scorpius Malfoy, the bane of my existence. And now I'm in my bra. Heads turn. Girls gasp. A couple of those blasted Gryffindor boys wolf-whistle. Professor Fliggin nods solemnly.
'Good job Scorpius, very well done, it would have eaten through the epidermis and consumed her entrails…' he might say, the prat. I hate Professor Fliggin. I hate Potions. I hate Scorpius Malfoy. Heat floods my face and I scream. It sounds more like a teapot letting off steam.
"What the hell did you just do?" But it's him so I stand up and my foot catches on my chair leg and my head connects to the desk with a whack. I stumble back into my seat.
"Are you okay?" He asks weakly and I feel tears stinging my eyes. My scalp, my ears, my chest, all blisteringly warm. Damn that Weasley blush. A sob catches in my throat.
"Come on Rose. You're fine."
And then Scorpius Malfoy is taking off his own shirt. I stop my blubbering, because there are abs and they are on eye level.
His jumper caught on his white shirt and he struggles it loose and hands me a fistful of fabric. I tug it over my head, but only because Potions is in a dungeon and there's a heck of a draft… and I'm shirtless.
He smiles at me, not a smug grin (a normal Malfoy smirk) or a toothy beam (that thing Albus sometimes awkwardly manages), just a little smile. But when Scorpius smiles, his gray eyes smile too. And no matter what anyone says, I didn't- DID NOT- smile back. Not even a little. At all. Okay maybe. But after such a traumatizing experience a smile like that can do you good. But my smile doesn't last.
Scorpius reclaims his seat next to his Potions partner, a tall, ashy ginger, with gangly limbs and geeky glasses framing his green eyes. One of the Gryffindor chasers? Something like that. We may or may not be related. Malfoy turns around and gives me one last smile.
Chivalrous and brave, risking his own hands to save a woman, Professor Fliggin awards Scorpius fifty points to Gryffindor.
Scorpius Malfoy. Enemy. Seeker. Gryffindor.
That's my story, as of thus; just a little explanation of how I was thrown to the snakes- literally. Because apparently getting caught wearing a maroon jumper with "Malfoy Gryffindor Seeker" printed on it the day before the Gryffindor- Slytherin game is frowned upon. The weasel might as well have let the potion eat me.
Rose Weasley. Klutz. Laughing Stock. Slytherin.
Red hair, green house. Wouldn't have it any other way.
"And some of Hannah's potion had spilt. So I offered my jumper," Malfoy says simply. Everyone seems to find this pretty gosh-darn adorable.
"She sees us walking past and she flings Hannah's potion all over herself. She's too daft to do anything about it and she's going to die. Scorp saves the day. This man sacrificed comfortable warmth for the whole day for a damsel in distress and how is he rewarded? SHE CHARMS HIS JUMPER! To this day the thing says: Malfoy Gryffindork Chaser. Honestly."
"I didn't do that-"
"Word of mouth said she spilled that because Scorpius Malfoy winked at her!" Lilly chrips, all too happy to contribute. With her sleek raven hair and Weasley blue eyes she could probably snag Malfoy easy- that is, if she weren't so young, soobnoxious, and if I didn't murder her first.
"I didn't wink at anybody," Scorpius denies easily, but I'm bright red, so all things considering, there's some suspicion.
"Oh goodness! It was really allmy fault! I should have- should have- attended to the cauldron!" Hannah chips up, her brown are eyes watery, and her puppy dog pout trembling. Thank Merlin for Hufflepuffs. Those self-sacrificing little buggers always save the day. No one's gonna want to deal with a blubbering Hufflepuff, so they all stick a sock in it and let the matter drop.
But then Roxy, sitting there oh-so-innocentlytwirling one of her braids around her fingers, just hasto ask.
"Well… what about the Quidditch story, then?"
Albus has the nerveto pipe up all smug and condescending: "Which one?"
It's true. These things are alwayshappening to me. I could fill a book with my marvelous misadventures. Because… well, I'm a bit of a klutz. After all, they didn't name me Rose Nymphadora Weasley for nothing.