notes; i'm trying to write more multi-chaps, and i just signed up for the hpfc 100k multichap competition, so i sort of have to finish at least 100k of this story by march 15th, so i'll update as frequent as possible. also, all of my multi-chaps right now besides crying lightning are on hiatus, at least until i can get around to finishing this one. also not beta-read, so sorry about spag errors.
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Until The Very End
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November, 2007
Rose Weasley prided herself with being the top of her class—
In elementary school, it wasn't that hard; all the students had to were memorize passages from their textbooks, recite them the next day in front of the class, or answer the questions in the forms of standard examinations. While the rest of the children prided themselves with having the shiniest hair (which honestly, was the slightest bit stupid in Rose's mind) or who could run the mile the fastest, Rose prided herself upon her intelligence, the only thing that would last for the rest of her life.
On a particular August morning, her parents had decided to see if she could test into middle school a year early—it didn't sound all too bad in her mind; middle school was something of an adventure, and Hugo and Albus and James had always bragged about how wonderful it was; of course, she passed the exam with flying marks, and there she was, on August 21st—
Standing in front of the looming brick building—Stonewall High, the golden letters read; looking down at her baggy grey uniform, not for the first time, Rose wondered if she should have opted with St. Grogory's Primary School for another year and a half but decided against it; Headmistress Roemmelle was postiviely insane and the rest of her classmates had the work ethic of a snail (no, that would be an insult to a snail). Competition would be nice, for a change.
"Breakfast is first hour," a bored looking boy reads off, directing the rows of eager and some not-so-eager new students into the Great Hall, which wasn't so great, not really.
A cold breeze blows into the public school's cafeteria—Smelting's Academy would have been nicer, smarter kids; and from looking far away, it didn't seem that much different from St. Grogory's elementary school canteen.
Boys were still throwing food at each other, except less often, under the supervision of teachers with beady eyes and professional looking clothing; her blue eyes scan the room for a familiar face. James and Albus, sitting near the front of the room, wave over at her, and she joins them, the slightest bit of relief running through her tensed muscles—her only friend back in St. Grogory's had been Dennis the Menace, likely named so because of his penchant for mischief (and root bear and ketchup, among other things), and even though these boys were her cousins, and they hadn't been in contact for the past two months or so, she could count on them. "This is going to be a wonderful year," James murmurs, rubbing his hands together, eyes filled with mischief.
"A really wonderful year," Albus echoes. "It's all that we've been waiting for—him." The two Weasley-Potter brothers glare towards a small looking boy who sits across the cafeteria, wrapped up in his own world. "He's going to make this year bloody brilliant."
"I don't even understand what you're talking about—who's he, anyway?"
They both look at her as though she's completely un-educated about the world of middle school, which quite honestly, as a sixth grader at age eleven, she probably is. "Blimey, that's Scorpius Malfoy."
She dives into the array of courses spread out across the breakfast table—decision made, this is really much better than elementary school. "I thought that you hate him—" Honestly, boys don't make much sense at all, do they?
"We do; we really do hate him, after all this time."
"So how is he going to make your year brilliant?" It seems like a simple question, with a simple answer.
James and Albus roll their eyes in unison—it's quite frightening, in fact. "Fred and Dominique Weasley—they're eighth graders, but we've managed to get connections with them, and it's going to be the bloody best year ever, because of all the pranks they've inherited from their genius relatives: Fred and George Weasley. There's no way that they won't want to pair up with us against the Malfoy kid."
"Why do you even hate him in the first place? Mum keeps on telling us to let go of our grudges; to forgive, and to forget."
"He's a Malfoy," James murmurs, as if that's enough to be said. "He's a Malfoy, and I'm a Potter; it's in my blood to hate him. Yours too, don't forget."
"Well, you won't be bullying him, not if I can help it," Rose says in a matter-of-fact tone.
"You're a sixth grader; we're your elders in every aspect of the word - you just have to listen to us to what's correct," James instructs, as though the two year age gap between them makes him so much superior.
"Can't you just be friends with him?"
"Blimey, you really do belong in elementary school, don't you? He's a Malfoy—you can't ever forget that Rose, a Malfoy. Why are you so keen on making sure that we don't bully him—oh." James and Albus exchange a knowing look, and Rose stomps her foot impatiently upon the ground. "Well," Albus says, smiling; more like smirking. "James and I reckon that you like Malfoy."
"What, no - stop this; I don't even know him—I was just being nice—"
(The word spreads around the cafeteria, and by the end of the day, everybody's whispering Rose-and-Scorpius as if it's something permanent and real.)
.
They're in the same English class, apparently—
English Gifted Honors, taught by a young professor—Professor Flitwick, who bumbles around the room, yelling at the students who pass notes (who only roll their eyes and continue their numerous transgressions), who never actually lets Rose answer the question, even though she's the only one who bothers to raise her head, sitting front and center in the stuffy room. "So, Weasley, heard that you fancy me?" Scorpius leans in the seat next to her, legs crossed and arms splayed out across his brightly colored textbooks.
She rolls her eyes—a few girls in the back of the class murmur something gossip-related, because apparently, they have nothing better in their lives to do. "It was just a joke from my brothers. I don't even know who you are."
"Well, course you do—I'm Scorpius Malfoy; everybody knows who I am." Ego the size of the sun—blimey, James and Albus really weren't lying, were they? She thinks, flicking a strand of auburn hair from her cheekbones, casually leaning back in her white seat and trying to focus on the lecture, which becomes increasingly difficult with Scorpius talking incessantly.
"I don't care who you are—if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to my homework."
He raises an eyebrow; she can see the screws working in his head—it's almost amusing, how the human mind works; oh, she's one of those nerd types, Rose can just imagine him thinking. "Why do you care so much about your homework anyway? We're in middle school, Merlin's sake."
"Merlin's sake?" As if he couldn't get any more eccentric.
"All the high school kids are saying it; might as well fit in." Of course, he's one of those popular types.
"Whatever," she murmurs, drawing out the structure of a sonnet upon her composition notebook which became increasingly difficult to do when Scorpius Malfoy maintained a glare upon her back for the rest of the hour.
.
"So, Scorpius Malfoy—I saw the two of you getting chummy," James murmurs in her ear, dropping down in the seat next to her in the Grand Hall. Albus sits down on the other side of her, trapping Rose in her spot; she only rolls her eyes in response, because honestly, they're in middle school, and there are much more important things to do than cling onto grudges and gossip.
"I've got a theory," Albus pipes up.
"Oh, do tell," Rose remarks, sarcastically, jabbing her knife into the English muffin, splattered with strawberry-scented jam.
"Scorpius likes you, or something like that, so we can use you to get to him! It's brilliant, foolproof really." James nods in approval, and the two of them clink glasses, overly smug and satisfied.
"I've got a theory of my own—the two of you are girls." James chokes on his water and Albus lets out a snort. "There's no other way to explain why you're so interested in gossip, why you can't let go of a grudge that hasn't come up in two generations."
.
"So, this is your great plan?" Rose asks dubiously. She stands in the middle of the school's foyer, light flickering in through the early morning lights, morning warning bell yet to be rung; neatly trimmed eyebrows arched.
"Brilliant, isn't it?" Albus looks up at the ceiling with great admiration in his eyes, obviously very smug and satisfied with himself.
"You're going to throw a cake from twenty feet up on his head―I don't even understand how you're get the cake to push itself onto the floor."
"Magic," he echoes, the words faint on his tongue, a whisper.
Rose rolls her eyes and hopes that she doesn't get a hemorrhage from overusing the muscles too much as she has been over the past few weeks, whether it would be to her arrogant cousins and her tasteless classmates. "Really Albus: magic? Don't get me wrong, it's an okay idea, but he's never done anything to hurt you, has he; this really could be dangerous."
Albus laughs, "He's a Malfoy, Rosie. That's all you need to know."
(Except she's a nice person so she dismantles the trap and finds herself staring into the cold eyes of Albus and James and knows that doing what one thinks is right isn't ever necessarily the better option.)
"Rose, you shouldn't have done that," James and Albus echo, looking at her as though she's one of the filthy Malfoys now, and Rose can't help but think that the Weasley-Potter vs. Malfoy family feud has gone on long enough. They're not even her brothers—Hugo's her older brother, and he couldn't care who she decided to be her friend, but for some reason or another, everybody else did.
Her hands are placed on her hips, fury running through her eyes. "I'll do what I like, thank you very much."
"Don't come running back to us, because all we'll say is—"
"I told you so." They're one and the same really, and Rose isn't quite sure why she had been friends with them in the first place—perhaps it was the reason why they had met in the first place, because they were all cousins, the whole Potter-Weasley-Delacour-Johnson family tree, the whole lot of them all ended up at the same school. Just her luck.
And then James and Albus leave, and Rose is left in the abandoned corridor, staring at Scorpius Malfoy; a small gash runs across his cheeks, the dark colored blood a stark contrast from his pale as ivory skin. "Thanks," Scorpius murmurs.
She smiles, despite herself, because who knew that just being nice would accomplish the impossible—it was Scorpius Malfoy, after all, the boy with the ego the size of the Sun. "What was that? I couldn't hear you—you can say it again, if you'd like."
"I'm not saying it again, Weasley," he mutters towards the floor, slowly regaining his confidence, his own icy blue eyes locking into stare with her green ones for a moment, and then dropping down again.
"You're welcome."
"You didn't even do anything!" Scorpius exclaims, hands clasped and fidgeting with one another.
"I just saved you from being the humiliation of the entire middle school, Malfoy—you should be on your knees thanking me," she instructs, in a matter-of-fact tone, eyes flickering with amiability—towards a boy who isn't her relative; God, how growing up changes you.
"Friends?"
Rose Weasley isn't friends with boys; they're either her competition or something below her, creatures who have nothing better to do than stuff their faces with food and act in an ignorant manner, or they're her cousins; she has a lot of them, anyways. "Something like that."
And then, it all spirals out of control with Rose meaning for it to—He invites her to his lacrosse matches to which she goes reluctantly (and then she starts wearing green and silver scarves and mittens that wrap tightly around her neck, away with the girly scarlet and red mittens wherein the cold nips at the tips of her fingers, and everybody comments on this recent development as if it's the biggest thing in the world. She drags him, unwillingly, to study sessions and he's not that stupid, not really; then again, compared to her, only a few select students compete in their intellect. Her mother wasn't Hermione Granger, the top of her class every year, for no reason.
.
On their first date, they're walking through the town—
Town Day—what an appropriate name. Fingers interlocked as winter whispers a blanket of snow upon them, it almost feels natural, as if it was meant to be. "So, where would you like to go?" Scorpius asks, uncharacteristically cheerful. It's almost cute, she thinks.
"Anywhere," she says, her breath catching in the cold winter air. She'd go almost anywhere with him.
Except all good things come to an end; She rounds the corner, hair matted to forehead from gym class—it's probably the only one where she's not on the top; at least she could blame that on her parent's genes maybe—eyes searching for the familiar mop of blonde curls; except, he's snogging Molly Weasley, and they don't look like they're going to stop anytime soon.
Her eyes harden into steel, and as she strides through the Great Hall—people look at her apprehensively, and a light murmur of 'breakups and hookups' flicker through the murky air. She only lets herself break down in the closure of her dormitory room, empty for the time being—
Nobody writes about the songs that come easy.
.
(He knows that he's messed up from the start when he sees the flash of auburn hair out of the corner of his eyes, tears starting to form—Rose Weasley never cries, he knows that much—but it's not as though he hasn't tried; her friends always barricade the doorway to the first-year dormitory, and she always ignores him, and then she gets a new boyfriend of her own, so what's the point?)
.
Rose sees him on occasion, passing in the hallways—
Most of the times, he's snogging girls, throwing away like Kleenex—use one, then discard—and her eyes make notice never to lock with his own icy glare, steel and hardened. You should have just stuck to the books, Rose tells herself; second year wraps around the corner, and second year means her second boyfriend (You always have two loves, Victoire tells her, and of course, it's Victoire Weasley, one-hundred percent heartbreaker and boy expert, so there's no reason not to trust her, the one who shows you the world, and the one who puts it back together after the first one left.)
"I didn't love him," Rose would only snap up. "We dated for six months—you don't fall in love in six months." I don't fall in love at all, she adds in a sidenote, and flips through the lengthy pages of a Herbology textbook.
Victoire raises an eyebrow, "Then why are you still moping over him if you didn't like him?"
"I'm not moping," she quickly corrects. "I'm moving on in a healthy way—I'm not going to rush moving on and end up in a dysfunctional relationship, okay?"
"You've been watching far too much television; suit yourself, though. I'll bring the Ben and Jerry's to somebody else."
"Good for them." The door bangs with a satisfying click, and Rose collapses upon the mattress, clenching a pencil in one hand, the textbook wrapped up in her arms. Rose Weasley is the top of her class, she is not weak—she does not eat her feelings under layers of ice cream; she won't let herself be weak because of a boy, of all reasons.
.
Lorcan Scamander is the boy she has been waiting for—
Top of the class, too. Plus, he's a family friend—not a pureblood Malfoy—so if they ever got so far as to meeting the family, there would be no concern in her own mind. She's walking through the hallways with him, smile reaching her eyes for once, and it's not forced anymore so Rose knows that this or whatever they can call it must be right, when Scorpius is coming in the other direction and she clenches Lorcan's hand a little tighter. "Everything all right?" He peers down at her through light hazel eyes.
"Fine," she lies back through clenched teeth. Honestly, Scorpius Malfoy shouldn't affect her this much, at least not anymore; he nears closer and closer, and then his eyes flicker onto her face, and Rose inhales a gulp and turns her chin up, eyes looking straight ahead of her, yet he still remains in the corner of her vision. "
.
For days on end after the bullying, she falls back into the world of imagination—where nothing goes wrong, except the best books are the ones where everything goes wrong, and people never really recover; her fingers are stained with ink quills, and her phone rings a few days later. Lily Luna Potter, the caller ID reads; Rose sighs and picks up the phone; after all, little Lily Luna never did anything wrong. "Hey Lily," she murmurs, voice tired.
"Scorpius is leaving for London—he's actually going to London."
She should feel joyous; the boy who's been bullying her for the past three months is finally moving away, but there's a pang inside of her heart that Rose tries to block out. "And what does that have to do with me?" She knows the answer, of course.
"Well, I just thought that you would like to say good-bye to him; everybody's leaving to King's Cross in a few hours, so—"
Rose hangs up the phone.
.
June, 2012
A hoard of children vacate the premises of, beaming smiles embedded upon their faces—their eyes gleam and whisper (more like shout, but still) promises of the best summer ever, one without the worries of homework and summer reading assignments. A hoard of to-be seniors don their SENIORS sweaters over threadbare shorts; among them, Rose, Victoire, and Lily Luna, who remain in the center of the crowd, Victoire dwarfing the two of them.
"It's going to be the best summer ever," Lily Luna exclaims, voice filled with excitement and innocence, the way Rose's used to be before her dreams were crushed by stupid, little boys who make more of a lasting impact than they honestly should; but she's over that, really.
Victoire raises an eyebrow, "That's a matter of opinion, Lily—Rose looks a little less than thrilled about the summer getaway. Summer getaway―my treat," She announces, hands clasped together, all prim and proper.
"It's my birthday anyways, so I've paid for all you guys, and I've invited the boys too, so none of you have any reason for not going."
Rose hesitantly grabs the ticket. "First-class tickets, Victoire? Really?"
"What?" She smiles, smugly.
She rolls her eyes in response, directing her eyes towards the ground from the rays of sunlight, bright and deadly. "I don't even understand how you can afford this. Louis complains all the time about how he can't buy a lunch because it's too expensive―"
"He's lying; he'd just rather spend the money on other things. Like video games. And books. Whatever, you're coming, right?"
Rose heaves a sigh, contemplating; it wasn't as though she has anything better to do over summer holidays, but honestly, Victoire was unpredictable, and she'd rather be safe than sorry. "Well―"
"Great! It's settled then. I'll pick up the two of you, tomorrow morning, seven o'clock?"
"Make it ten." If anything, she'd at least have her sleep, if not her free will in the matter.
"Seven thirty. See you then!" Great, Rose thinks. Just bloody fantastic. The next day, she finds herself staring upon the Delacour-Weasley's summer home—it's something carved out of dreams, really, surrounded by arrangements of flowers, and the sheer size seems colossal, shielding them from the balmy heat. "Your room's upstairs," Dominique, Victoire's younger sister, says in a matter-of-fact tone. "You'll love it."
A boy with icy, pale features is splayed across the mattress, Beats headphones plugged into his ears—despite the expensive headphones, Rose can still hear the rap music pounding in her ears, and pinches herself once more. This has to be a dream—more like a nightmare, honestly, or some sort of prank; I knew that Dominique was up to no good, I should have known; I mean her father's George Weasley, king of troublemaking— Scorpius turns towards the door, smirk imprinted upon a face of ice, then drops upon seeing her. "What the hell are you doing here." It's not even a question, really.
Rose screams.
.
notes - there should be monthly updates on this, especially since spring break's coming up. i'd really like feedback since this is my first hp multi-chap xx 'll go more into the bullying in more chapters and what happened between them and all of the characters will be explained more, not just rose and scorpius, since i know that a lot of the minor characters in here were a bit too vague.
please leave feedback, c:
