A/N: Hope you all enjoy reading my story!
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to the brilliant JK Rowling, not me. Unfortunately.
Rose Weasley.
The daughter of Hermione and Ron Weasley. Smart. Quidditch player. Popular. Newly appointed Head Girl. Fun. Nice. Friendly. Most likely to succeed. Perfect. These are just a few of the labels attached this name. With these labels come an expectation and a reputation to uphold, which Rose seems to manage without even trying.
But what no one knows is that, most nights, after doing more than enough homework and study to ensure she gets the Outstanding grade that is expected of her, Rose makes a trip to the Room of Requirement. She's been there so many times recently that she doesn't need to pay much attention to where she's going. She only needs to look out for other night-time wanderers – lest they see her and her reputation comes crashing down – but tonight, in her haste, she doesn't even do that. Tonight is different.
As she reaches the door, she doesn't even hesitate before thinking the same thought as every other night she has come searching for the Room: I need a room full of glass. She opens the door and surveys the room with the same sense of awe she always has for it. There are glass tables with glass vases on top, each vase more intricately decorated than the next. There are glass cabinets full of glass plates and cups, shining under the light coming from the glass chandeliers which cover the ceiling. There are glass shelves holding up glass wine goblets and champagne flutes.
Rose shivers. The glass makes the room seem colder than it actually is. The harsh white light bounces around the room, making the whole scene look uninviting. And yet the glass has a certain beauty to it. The craftsmanship required to make it is evident in the patterns and curves. But that is not the only thing that amounts to the beauty of glass. Not many people think about it in the thought process that gives glasswork the label 'beautiful', but part of the allure is in how delicate and fragile it is. The most beautiful things are those which can be taken away so easily: the flower which can be crushed underfoot; the butterfly whose wings can be torn; the pretty face which can be ruined by a fist. Rose flinches at that last thought, knowing first-hand how that feels, before continuing on her train of thought. Now it is her turn to take away some beauty.
Rose walks once around the room before choosing a target. It is goblet, studded with crystals and gems. She examines it carefully, and then she flings it down to the ground with all of her strength, where it shatters into tiny pieces with a crash.
That one is her parents.
Rose doesn't hate them. She loves them, but they are to blame for all of her problems. Ron and Hermione Weasley, the famous war heroes. When she arrived at school, people had already judged her. The teachers and Ravenclaws wondered if she would be as smart as her mother. The Hufflepuffs hoped they could become close enough to her to be her friend. The Slytherins waited to see if they could get revenge on her on behalf of their parents. Even her own house, Gryffindor, could only see her for who her family was, and only cared whether she could play Quidditch as well as the Weasleys, or win as many house points as them. At first she tried her hardest to live up to their expectations, but she soon realised that only made it worse when she failed. The disappointed looks from her peers and teachers were horrible. But by then it was too late to change anything.
Rose moves on, circling the room until she finds her next target. It is a platter, mostly plain, except for a few emeralds dotted around the edges. That is what makes her choose it. She barely looks at it before sending it crashing towards the ground.
The one is Nott's band of Slytherins.
They, too, only saw her last name. From the very first day on the Hogwarts Express, they had hunted her down and made sure that she knew where they stood. Rose was to pay for what her family had done to their parents and the way that they disgraced them. In her first few years at Hogwarts, it wasn't too bad. It was only childish name-calling. That, she could handle. But as they grew older, their fights became more and more violent, the last few leaving her battered, bruised, and limping towards the hospital wing with the excuse, "got hit by a Bludger."
Because she definitely can't tell anyone. She can imagine their reactions clearly. Albus wouldn't believe that his house would do such a thing in this day and age. James would act all horrified that anyone could hurt "his" Rosie, but secretly revel in the fact the he got an excuse to prank the Slytherins. Lily would play the high-and-mighty outraged cousin, telling the whole school and then soaking up the spotlight. And Hugo, the teachers, her parents...they would all be so disappointed. Everyone expects her to be such a hero. She is supposed to be the one beating up the bad guys, not the damsel in distress. No, there is nothing she can do to stop them from attacking her. Nothing can stop people from seeing her as, first and foremost, a Weasley.
But all of this is not why Rose came here tonight. There is someone else on her mind. Someone whose surname is almost as famous as her own. It is a delicate snake that gleams a brilliant silver that reminds her of him. Her other problems dull in comparison as she remembers the events of that afternoon. She handles the snake gently, thinking of what he means to her. Rose tries to tell herself that that's over now. It doesn't work. She remembers what she means to him – nothing - and throws it away, tears starting to blur her vision.
That one is Scorpius Malfoy.
Rose can't pinpoint the exact moment when she fell in love with him. They have been best friends for their entire time at Hogwarts, but the last few years she has realised that she wants something more. And Scorpius is completely oblivious. Or even worse – he knows but he is just not interested. Maybe that was why he asked Georgia Davies out at lunch today. What hurt the most wasn't that he asked someone out other than her, but that Georgia meant something to him. As they have gotten older, most of the female in their year have been fawning over his good looks and charming smile. Although he occasionally accepts their many offers to accompany them to parties and the like, he is only humouring them. Rose had accepted that part of him, the part that has another girl every few weeks, keeping them around for a bit of excitement and a snog, but only because she had firmly believed that he would grow out of that phase and realise that he had loved her all along.
Quite a fantasy, she realises now. Because the way Scorpius talked about her today, after Georgia accepted his offer to accompany her to Hogsmeade, it is obvious that Georgia has stolen her part in the drama that is her life. Georgia is the one to straighten him out and get him to settle down with her gorgeous smile, charm, and talent. Not Rose. She never stood a chance.
Yet she cannot blame Georgia Davies. Who could say no to Scorpius Malfoy? Even Rose finds it hard now, in the face of this betrayal, to think of him as anything other than the person she loves. She keeps on seeing him through Rose-tinted glasses. Instead of blaming him for being so obtuse, so dim-witted, so insensitive, she blames herself, for being so unattractive, so undesirable, and so stupid as to think that he would love her.
So she keeps on smashing glass in the hopes that she can find some sort of comfort from it. Or, failing that, at least some satisfaction or refuge from the wreck that is now her life.
Hours later – or is it merely minutes? - Rose wipes her eyes free of tears and gets up from where she was kneeling on the floor. The shelves and tables are now bare of glassware – it is now in pieces on the ground. Rose brushes off all of the fragments from her clothes. It would not do to let anyone know what happened here. The glass crunches under her feet as she walks towards the door, knowing that it won't be long before she is forced to return.
Because, really, she is as broken as the glass scattered on the floor. She just needs someone to put her back together again.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please send a review, even if it's short. Let me know what you think!
