Rose Gold
.o0o.
Break my heart . . .
.o0o.
She's nervous as she makes her way down the corridor, looking from compartment to compartment and screwing up her nose as she realises that they all are full. It's difficult being new and her cousins are nowhere to be seen. Rolling her trunk behind her and struggling with the weight, she shakes her head at the snowy owl in its cage.
Continuing down the corridor, she ignores the stares of the older students who no doubt recognise her from the tabloids. She's never really been a stranger to the press, what with her parents being war heroes, and they've likely all grown up hearing her surname.
She hates it and wishes that someone would, for once, know her as Rose rather than the Weasley girl.
"Rose," she hears a voice call, and with a growing sense of relief she turns and beams, pushing her way into the Albus' compartment and collapsing upon the seat with satisfied oomph.
Before she can scold him for abandoning her earlier, she notices the two boys sitting across from them, both watching her with airs of bemusement. While one is fair the other is dark, but both sport identical smirks.
.
The one on the right extends a pale hand, long fingers cool against hers, and she feels her cheeks heat up as she meets his stormy-grey eyes. Albus is silent, evaluating the situation, but she reaches out and accepts.
"Scorpius Malfoy," the boy says, his smirk never fading. "Aren't you the pretty little flower?"
.o0o.
Rose hears them speaking one evening, as she lingers between the shelves, sneaking glances at Scorpius every few seconds. He's speaking to Albus and she strains to hear what they're saying, wondering if Scorpius is talking about her.
"She's family, Scor," says Albus, his tone indicating that he's far more serious than usual. She tenses, wondering if her wildest dreams are about to come true.
"I'd never hurt her, Al, you know that," Scorpius replies, the sound of his voice alone causing shivers to run down her spine. "She's my priceless flower, and with your blessing, I'll be meeting her at the top of the Astronomy Tower tonight."
"Knowing her, she'll be seeing you with or without my permission," Albus says, "I suppose, as far as her dating options go, it's better the devil I know that the angel I don't."
Rose claps her palms across her mouth to stifle her squeal, and without listening to hear anymore she rushes off in a tizzy. It's what he called her on the first day they met, a flower, in that suave voice that fit him like a glove.
In her dorm, she searches for her prettiest periwinkle dress and decides to skip dinner, tapping her feet and waiting for nightfall. She sneaks out before the common room fills, hoping to avoid curious glances, and in the chill night air she waits at the base of the tower.
Hours trickle by and her eyes grow weary, till at last she hears a sound and she turns.
She freezes, her heart plummeting from her chest, and she darts behind the nearest tapestry, eyes wide as she sees her dream break. It's like a knife in the back, right between her shoulder blades, because no matter how much she twists her arms she cannot grasp the hilt to yank away the pain.
He's leaning against the wall, face lit by the flickering torchlight, his collar up and his smirk in place with a scarf lazily wrapped around his neck. He's dreamy and gorgeous, and she could melt into a puddle at the sight.
But the picture of loveliness is marred, of course, by the fingers of another weaving through his. Her cousin, Lily, stands on tiptoes before Scorpius, pink lips brushing over his, and she's looking prettier than Rose could ever hope to be.
It hurts so much, knowing that he's never thought of her in that manner, that she's deluded himself into believing that she's his priceless flower.
That is when the first petal fell from the most beautiful of all flowers, leaving it scarred and imperfect.
.
Then the one on the left quirks an eyebrow, olive skin a stark contrast to his companion's ivory. Instead of offering her a hand to shake, he simply nods in recognition.
"And I'm Zabini," he says, "Delphin Zabini."
She smiles at the casualness, even as she is drawn to the formality of the other, and replies, "I'm Rose. Just Rose."
.
"I still don't know why we couldn't just Apparate," he says, causing her to roll her eyes from behind the wheel. It's a regular complaint that he always makes whenever they drive anywhere, mostly stemming from the fact that he doesn't know how to operate a car.
"James sends his kids to a Muggle kindergarten, Del," she explains, "It'd be odd for us to pick them up in the usual way."
"And the teachers?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow. "Surely they aren't going to send Trys and Danny off with some strangers."
"James told them that I'll be fetching them this afternoon," she answers with a sigh. It's sometimes hard for her boyfriend to understand the Muggle world and all it entails, but there's no denying that he enjoys it.
She remembers taking him to get pizza, introducing him to sushi, teaching him the joys of television, and oh so very much more. There are times when he questions how the Muggles function without magic, not comprehending their ingenuity, and this often leads her to explaining mundane concepts such as fetching children.
It's never a bother, nor with Delphin, because he's worth everything she has and more.
"So what do children learn at these kinkergarlens?" he presses, eyes twinkling because he knows; he knows that he's pronouncing it wrong and he simply doesn't care, knowing that she'll pause to correct him as she always does.
She turns to do so, a smirk across her face, but before her lips can part there's a shrieking of twisting metal and her head slams against the steering wheel. The car flips, not once, not twice, but four times before bursting into flames, but she's already been sent flying through the windshield in a shower of glass and pain.
Rose lets out a scream as she hits the ground and rolls, her bones aching from the impact. Struggling, spitting blood, she looks up, and her blood runs cold at the sight of Delphin sprawled just a few feet from her.
He's bleeding from just above his brow and he isn't moving.
She crawls, dragging herself to him, fighting back the screams that threatened to burst out her mouth. Her arms are scraped raw, her leg probably broken, but she perseveres till she reaches him. Without a second's hesitation, she shakes him, urging him to reply even as she sees his glassy eyes.
"Don't leave me, Del," she pleads, "please, don't go."
He stares without seeing, his head lolling to the side at an unnatural angle.
It is then that the most delicate of blossoms, already wilting, begins to die.
.o0o.
"Just a little more, Rosie," coaches her mother, not uttering a single complaint as Rose's nails dig into her arm, causing pinpricks of blood to dot the skin.
Rose sucks in a breath, the hospital gown plastered to her body with sweat, and brushes a matted strand of hair out of her eyes before pushing. She shrieks, and then all at once she's overcome with a crashing wave of sweet relief.
The Healer and midwife are bustling about at the foot of the bed, and she cranes to get a glimpse, ignoring her mother's gentle reassurances. It is a few minutes later when the midwife steps forward and, slowly, tenderly, places a tiny, pink-faced bundle into her waiting arms.
"He's a bright one," the Healer comments, "Already opened his eyes and everything."
She looks down, a smile upon her lips, and she swallows as her ever so slightly sunken eyes make contact with his. His tongue darts out, pink and tiny, the lip licking at his lip before disappearing again, and she wants to laugh at his newborn antics but suddenly, he begins to wail.
"Why is he crying?" Rose asks, panic filling her voice.
"Relax, Rose," soothes Hermione, stroking her on the shoulder. "He's just hungry."
Nodding, she looks to her mother for help. Hermione smiles, eyes not leaving her first grandson, and undoes the hospital gown and the strap of her bra. Smiling in thanks, one of her first real smiles in months, Rose brings the infant's lips to her nipple.
This is when the first dew drops fall, sparkling across the bare stems, and like magic, emerald leaves unfurl whilst petals of scarlet silk unfurl.
"You are the one true love of my life, Christopher Delphin Zabini-Granger," she whispers at the squirming blue bundle in her arms, nuzzling at her breast and staring at her with his father's hazel eyes. "All that I have, and all that I ever will have, is yours."
.o0o.
But don't expect me to fall apart. . .
.o0o.
A/N: Written for Round 8 of the Third Season of the Quidditch League in my capacity as Chaser 2. My task was to write about a Next-Gen character, and so I went with Rose Weasley but decided this story would work better if I told it through Hermione's POV.
Additional A/N: Shane (me) is not happy with this story. My vision did not pull together, as I've been sick most of this round, and my muse had left me by the time I was better. That being said, I hope you all enjoyed this story.
Quidditch Prompts: [Creature] – Owl / [Colour] – Periwinkle / [Song] – Wildest Dream by Taylor Swift
Prompts Galore Challenge: [Line] – That was when . . . scarred and imperfect.