[Just a short little thing, written because I'm avoiding revising for my exams ;)
Thank-you for taking the time to read it.]
You are a train crash in slow motion, the falling of civilisations encapsulated in human form. One girl can't take this much pressure. You're falling to pieces, unnoticed, because what could be wrong with Rose-fucking-Weasley's dream-filled existence? You're the girl who has it all, remember: the looks, the brains, the inherited fame. You even have the suitably attractive arch-nemesis to match: the infamously gorgeous Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, rebelling oh-so-successfully against his family name by being placed in Gryffindor.
You're like a shooting star, a meteorite, because you're disintegrating, slowly, stunningly, in full display of everyone watching. (And there are a lot of people watching your fall from grace, little girl.) You shed burdens, loves, hopes and dreams like they are gossamer butterfly wings. They float oh-so-gently towards the ground that people don't even notice the initial destruction. It doesn't feel flawlessly beautiful though, it feels ugly, hard, painful. One. There goes a boyfriend, unable to cope with the limelight. Two. There goes your best friend, you're alone now, and it hurts, doesn't it? Three. Here comes the stress of exams, piling on your shoulders like rocks and lead balloons. Onetwothreefour, your dreams lay littered on the floor.
Being in the same House doesn't make you and Malfoy get on though, if anything, it fuels the flames. You're so formulaic, really. Warring families, torn apart by love. That's all you are darling, just another cliché. You can say it's original, new, but even you know it's a lie – Romeo and Juliet? It's all been done before.
So think, Rosie, think. Yes, you're both in a riotous dance, tangling and spinning across wild emotions and restrictive boundaries. It's a passionate rumba, a hate filled tango. But do you really loathe him? Because as his hand trails lazily across your body, burning starlight in its wake, you sure don't look like you hate the boy. As your eyes seek his for reassurance, that oh-so-malicious glint is... gone. And as you scream and rant at each other yet again, your breath catches in your throat, just momentarily. So reflect, imagine, dream. That pratidiotgit Scorpius Malfoy could just be your knight in crumpled tinfoil, come to save you from yourself.
