an: i don't own anything
this is for Alice (watching stiricide) as a belated birthday present, and Lucy (WeasleySeeker) as a happy birthday for today, fic.
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Morning dawn; it has always been Rose Weasley's favourite time of day, the time when the sun begins to rise, casting a glorious kaleidoscope of colours across the sky, illuminating areas which would otherwise have been cast under the grey blur that sweeps across the city during the day. It's always been the time when she's been able to think the most clearly, to make her plans for what she wants to do during the day, and, of late, whether or not she's got a chance of telling Scorpius that she's moving to New York in ten days, and that he's not going with her.
It wasn't ever meant to be like this. This, they, was just meant to be a casual thing, something that could have turned into something more if they had had the time, but she had known she would be leaving for their entire relationship. Now, she wishes that she had just told him, so that she had an excuse not to get attached and he could walk away if he wanted to. But now, now she's just created a situation where she doesn't want to leave him, he doesn't know she's leaving and yet she has to, because the flat is enchanted for only one person to live there, and the job is a year long contract in the Big Apple, to work for the wizarding paper there. Everything was signed up three months ago, and yet she chose to ignore that, and go out with the one time bad boy.
In the fluffy clouds above London, she half thinks she can see a girl and a boy, dancing together, before she realises that she's reading too deeply into them, and that she's twisting their appearances to look just like she wants them to. She wants to see herself and Scorpius, back when they first met, back in that ballroom when he asked her to dance and she said yes without a second's hesitation, but that's impossible, isn't it? She can't expect to see that in clouds of water, decorations which can release precipitation to rinse away life's concealments, to reveal what's hidden underneath.
She can hear stirring in her bed, and she turns around to see the blond haired boy shuffling into a sitting position, his hair dishevelled and reminding her just why she thinks she's fallen in love with him; with her, he's not the Malfoy who he is to the rest of the world, but just the normal boy, the kind that everyone wants to fall in love with. If only she had told him where she's going; he could have tried to get his job transferred out there, see if the American Quidditch teams wanted him. But he's just signed a new contract with the Puddlemere United squad, and so she's never going to drag him from there, for her, is she?
"Hey." Even his voice is adorable, and she has to fight to stop herself relaxing the wall she's managed to put up amidst the moments of quiet reflection. She has to do it today. She has to do it whilst she's wearing his shirt – which smells strongly of his unique scent, the one that smells like aftershave – and can still feel him on her skin, because otherwise it'll get to the hour before, and she'll be leaving him quite literally.
"I need to talk to you." Her voice is low, quiet, and it's completely different to normally. She's reserved and guarded now, compared to free and fun-loving – things she knows drew him to her – and it's almost as though she's heading for a funeral as she climbs onto the bed next to him.
"What's wrong?" he sits up instantly, worry creeping onto his face, and she has a feeling she can pre-empt his next question. "You're not…?"
A ghost of a smile creeps onto her face, one that would normally have spread right across and had her laughing until she was doubled over with a stitch; today, it barely pulls the corners of her mouth up and doesn't reach her eyes at all. "No. I'm not pregnant. I just…I need to tell you something."
"I can tell it's not good. Just tell me, Rose, please." His pleading, the way that his eyebrows fold in and highlight the panic in his eyes, makes her not want to do it; she's going to break apart the soft man, the one who was brought out by her love, not anyone else's, and revert him back to the womaniser. She can tell. It's obvious to her, and she hates herself for doing this – but it's all her fault, after all.
"I have a job in America," she tells him in a rush, twisting her hands together and biting her lip as she waits for him to react. He doesn't, so she continues. "I've had it organised since before we got together, and I should have told you, but I couldn't face it as I loved everything we had…and I have to leave in ten days."
It's as she suspected; his face hardens over and she can see that there's no emotion in his face, not even when she tries to read deep into his eyes. There's nothing there, just an empty vessel who doesn't believe what she's telling him, or doesn't know how to react to her words.
"I see." Even his voice is empty, and she finds herself recoiling from it, because she never expected things to end like this, so cold and icy, just like the usual Malfoy trait, apparently. "Well…I'd best be going then. I don't want to…get in the way of your packing, especially for such a long term move. I take it you don't want me going with you."
"I want you to come with me. I do. But the lease is just charmed to allow me to live there, and you've got your work, and I wish you could – oh, I wish you could come! – but it can't happen." Moisture drips onto her leg and she realises that she's crying, that droplets are rolling down her cheeks and distorting her vision, so she can't even see his face properly anymore, not even when she wipes the tears away furiously.
"Whatever." He doesn't say anything past this as he jumps out of the bed and dresses, ignoring her attempts to make him understand that she loves him, she does, but that this just didn't work out because of her. She thinks that he just doesn't care.
As he's walking out the door, he turns back, and she can see for the first time that she's hurt him; it's the only thing she can see as he leaves, and it's what causes the guilt to consume her as soon as he's out of the door, especially when she realises that she's still wearing his shirt.
…
He doesn't wave her off.
She didn't expect him to, really, given how they left things (him walking out after she basically told them they had never really begun) but it still hurts, to know that she's not going to see him again for the next year.
"Promise me that you'll tell me how he's doing, yeah?" she makes her cousin, Albus, promise that he'll pass on messages about Scorpius, because she doesn't think that she can stand a year – or more – without knowing what he's doing and who he's hooking up with.
"I promise, as long as you tell me how New York is." He wraps her into a hug, and for a minute, Rose feels at home again. She can imagine that it's Scorpius who is hugging her, not Albus, and that's the thing she wants most in the world right now.
"Sure will; letters and Muggle methods of conversation every week sound good to you?"
He just nods as he pulls away from her to allow her parents time to say goodbye – "we'll miss you," and "you'll be just fine, Rosie; you always said you were going to take the world by storm."
She just wishes that it was Scorpius telling her this, not her parents.
Still, she says goodbye to them all, to England, to Scorpius without him being there, because her career has always been the most important thing, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity; she'd be stupid not to take it.
Right?
…
She loves her job.
After the first day, she has no doubts about why she came out here, no desires to go back home to a poorly paid journalist position, when here, she has control over everything in this part of the paper. She's loving it, loving the power, the responsibility, the chance to mentor some people who are just like she is (was) and she doesn't understand why she ever doubted herself.
She saves that for when she's going home to an empty flat, because there's nobody there to welcome her home, to give her a kiss, or for her to steal their clothes.
Even though the reports from Albus are few and far between – she supposes he doesn't want to tell her about his playboy lifestyle, especially since it's so obvious to her family that she's in love with him – she can keep up with his career through the papers; she notices whenever he has a bad game, when he stands out from the rest, and the way that he seems stronger as time goes by, as though he's getting over her.
(That breaks her heart, because when she's in this flat – apartment; she's in America now - she calls home, it's as though she's just waiting for him to approach her at a dance and sweep her off her feet.)
Her apartment gives her a beautiful view of the sunrise; it's crystal clear, not obscured by buildings as most of Manhattan is, but instead looks out over the water of the Hudson River, and allows the fractioning of the light to take her breath away. But it's not like the one at home; she's got nothing for the morning dawn to distract her from, because she's alone all the time. The colours make no impact on her now, because they're merely just pretty shades that could be found in paint stores, so she finds herself sleeping through sunrise. It's hard at first, but she's trying to change her life entirely, and if that means that she has to get rid of the sunrise, then so be it.
…
It comes to the time when she has to choose between going home or staying in New York, a choice between being with her family (and Scorpius) again, or staying and building an even bigger and better name for herself. It comes down to one question that she needs to know the answer to as to whether she stays or goes, whether her flat actually becomes home, or if she decides to give in and return to her cosy flat in London, the one with the beautiful sunrise.
She's about to ask Albus whether Scorpius is still single, when she reads the Daily Prophet's headline.
PUDDLEMERE UNITED SUPERSTAR, SCORPIUS MALFOY, SET TO WED SOCIALITE FIONA NOTT.
Suddenly, Rose decides that she's staying put, and that if she never has to see a sunrise again, there's no way that she'd ever be happier.
an2: once again, i'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite without reviewing.
vicky xx