Prompt: Set 3 (never, there's a beginning of things, let me forget, snuffed out candle, rose, while this was happening, you know?)
House: Gryffindor
Pairing: Rose/Scorpius.
Thank you to my amazing beta, rileyluvr13, for beta-ing this particular one-shot and being more 'nit-picky' than usual because I asked you to. For picking out every single error there was and for helping my story flow better by helping me with certain awkward sentences and fragments. For helping me get this story to its full potential. Cheers~!
Blown-out Flame
She's waiting for him at the clock tower, like she does every night. The pendulum swings back and forth, and she watches the gears grind and spin together, partially obscuring her view of the Black Lake. He's only a few feet away from her when she opens her mouth to speak, with her back still to him and her face covered in a mane of unruly red curls.
"You said you'd never." She doesn't complete the sentence, because there's so many things she wants to say, but they just can't all fit in the phrase.
You'd never...
Do this to me.
Break up with me.
Hurt me.
Stop loving me.
Let me go.
It's amazing how much meaning four words can have, how much hidden depth they can hold. If she said it to anyone else, it'd sound cold, emotionless, as if she didn't have a care in the world. But he knows her better than that, and beneath the surface, he feels her wounds, heartbroken feelings, and the hurt, trying to burst free from their securely held seams.
An empty question hangs in the air, lingering in the uncomfortable silence.
Why?
And with all the thoughts swirling around in his mind, all the things he wants to tell her, to say to her, to whisper in her ear, the only words that escape from his tightly closed, unwilling lips are: "I'm sorry."
She obviously expected more from him, because when she turns around, her face pale with red, curly wisps of hair blowing away from her face, and her frosty, blue eyes meet his for just a moment, it's like she can see right through him. See every little secret he wants to hide.
"Sorry never fixes anything," she tells him. "So this is it, then?"
His silence is all she needs for an answer.
Without another word, she slides past him, their bodies brushing for just a moment. Her small frame tenses up as she walks down the spiral staircase. There's nothing he can do but watch her go. And at that moment, he hates himself more than anything else in the world, possibly more than she even hates him. He has so much self-loathing for hurting her beyond reason.
People always said that when one door closes, another opens. That there will always be a new beginning for every end, every misfortune that befell people. The truth is that he simply can't see a beginning, a new door. And that is a fact, something that just can't change. There are no fresh starts for this. There are no clean states. Matter-of-factly, he comes to realize that this is the end.
They're sitting next to each other, hip-to-hip, shoulder-to-shoulder. His arms are around her, and his lips are pressed to her neck. She's smiling and laughing, and so is he. It's a memory from the earliest days of their relationships, back in their fourth year, just days after the Yule Ball, that's bright and happy, a flickering tongue of fire that refuses to burn out even on the darkest of days.
"But, Scorpius." She grins, as if she's holding back a private joke. "What will people think?"
He honestly doesn't care what other people think about their relationship. They can go to Hell, for all he cares, as long as Rose is all his, and he tells her so.
"You like me that much?" She sounds surprised, and he looks at her indignantly. His gray eyes say everything he wants to tell her, regardless of how his brows are furrowed together. That yes, he does like her that much.
"Rose," he says, looking out into the cloudy sky, beyond the lakes, the mountains, the trees. " You know I love you. And I'll never let anyone get in the way of that." It's the most honest thing he's ever said to her during their whole relationship, and he doesn't regret it. Because he truly does love her, and he wants her to know.
This can't help but remind her of that muggle book her grandparents read her when she was a little kid. A book with two rabbits who compare how much they love each other. And so, it makes her smile.
"Huh, I guess you know I love you too, then," she says. And it doesn't feel awkward at all. It feels perfect, like they're right where they belong, right where they fit in this world. And nothing, nothing, can ever take this moment away.
"Albus," he says, flopping onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, "I'm screwed."
"You broke up with her? Rose, I mean?" His best mate flips one page of his well-worn Quidditch Through the Ages, and then sets it down. He stares at Scorpius with a sort of resigned, pointed interest, studying his friend's face full of shock.
"How did you know?"
"We all saw it coming. While this relationship of yours was happening, neither side of our families were very happy. I mean, one way or another, one side would give in. It just so happened your father broke first. Uncle Ron wasn't so far from it himself, in fact. I would've given him two days or so."
Albus shrugs, giving him a sympathetic look.
"Then why was she so angry at me?"
"I don't think she was angry at you," Albus comments wisely, while Scorpius briefly considers whether his best friend has watched too much of that muggle telly show Oprah lately. His emerald green eyes flash momentarily behind his round glasses. "I think she was angry... at herself."
"Rosie," Lily singsongs, looking at her cousin from out of the corner of her eye while simultaneously putting on her make-up, "you've got to stop beating yourself up about Scorpius."
"I am not," she says firmly, "beating myself up."
"Puh-lease, Rose, I've known you ever since I was born. You think I can't tell? You think it's all your fault, don't you? That because of you, everything went awry?" Lily rolls her eyes, then yelps in surprise as she drops her eyeshadow with a clatter onto the floor.
"It is my fault. If I stopped it from the beginning, then this would have never happened in the first place, and none of us would have ever gotten hurt. I let it go on. I let it continue. And look where we are now." She can't help but feel sorry for herself.
Lily looks like she isn't going to start doing anything of the sort, but finally, she takes her attention away from the vanity and turns to face her cousin, giving Rose her full attention.
"Are you honestly saying," she asks her disbelievingly, "that you wish you never knew him?"
"Of course not," Rose replies quickly, "I love Scorpius more than anything. And that will never change."
And when Lily finally seems content and turns back to the vanity to apply her mascara, Rose stares at the ground, and whispers quietly, so no one but herself can hear her own insecurities, "But I don't know if he loves me enough to try again."
It's the summer break, and they've just finished their sixth year in Hogwarts. He can't help but feel proud to know that he'll be moving on to the real world in just a year. But in a way, he also feels sad, because the next time he returns to the castle will probably and most likely be his last.
"Scorpius." His mother's voice is quiet, but it stands out amidst the silence of their huge manor, which is occupied by only three people. "Your father wants to see you."
So he gets out of his chair, leaving behind the half-inked letter addressed to Rose. His owl, Hades, flutters its wings in annoyance, telling him to get on with it already. As soon as he turns to head out the door, his mother embraces him in one long, warm hug. She hasn't done so since he was about eleven and heading off to Hogwarts for the first time, respecting his independence. And that's the first sign that signals something is wrong. He feels at unease, and a horrible sensation springs in his stomach.
His father is in his study, pacing around, barely seeming to notice when Scorpius enters the room. He quietly shuts the door behind him.
"Sit down," he says, and Scorpius does so. Only when both father and son are sitting down at the large table, almost two meters apart from each other at each end, does his father begin to speak.
Draco clears his throat. "You need to stop seeing the Weasley girl."
"What?"
"Rose. You can't be together anymore."
"Dad, you're being completely prejudiced. I thought you were past the old days, past grudges with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, I thought you were over all that." Scorpius is angry with his father for holding something like this against him.
"I can't believe..." Scorpius is frustrated, wanting to help his father see reason, but not knowing quite how to do so.
"It's not like that. You don't understand," his father interrupts him sharply. "They never let me forget." He repeats this a second time at a whisper, choking on his own words, fists clenched together. Scorpius is briefly surprised; it's been quite a while since his father was so bitter.
"How do you think it feels to be in their debt? That they saved my life multiple times, when I deserved it the least? They never let me forget. Never. It's already bad enough that I made the wrong decisions when I was your age, and yet still, right now, I'm faced with all the consequences. How do you think that feels?"
He pushes himself out of his chair, his face livid. "How do you think it feels?"
The last sentence echoes around the room, and Draco collapses back down, clutching his hair with his hands, rubbing his temples in rough circles. Scorpius remains silent, and he silently slips away from the study, watching his mother head in to comfort his dad. He heads back to his own room and sits down.
He stares down at his letter, the words swimming before his eyes, and then he makes his decision.
Ignoring Hades's confused squawks of protest, slowly he folds the letter, creases it, then rips it apart, tearing it from piece to piece. He shreds it until there's only a pile of confetti, the sole remains of his heartfelt words, settled on his desk. And when the wind blows in, scattering the pieces across the floor, he does nothing to stop it.
Once he leaves the common room, stepping away from the dungeons, he goes to find her. He knows where she is, where she'll always be, and as expected, he finds her. A solitary figure in the moonlight, glowing with its reflection, her scarlet hair a beacon among the never-ending green of the rose garden. It's one place he can always find her, depend on her presence. Ironic, really, considering her name. Perhaps that's why she comes here so often. Because she can feel a connection.
And while he knows she's here, she knows he has arrived as well.
"Not what it's cracked up to be, huh?" He breaks the silence hanging in the air.
Her voice cracks, and he knows she's struggling not to cry as she asks, "What do you mean?"
For someone as smart as she is, she can be so insanely ignorant when it comes to common sense. He's talking about their relationship, what else? And finally, she gets it. What they thought would be a fairytale romance. A happily ever after. How they believed everything would work out in the end. Yes, they were young, and they were foolish. They dared to dream. And look where it got them.
So he walks over to her, and even though she refuses to turn around to face him, he puts his arms around her in a long, embracing hug. That action in itself is enough to tell her everything that he wants to say. He can feel the tears sliding down her cheeks, dropping onto his hands, which are entwined with hers as he wipes them away.
Because neither of them can afford tears right now. They extinguish their bright, flickering flame, leaving nothing but a snuffed out candle behind. Plumes of smoke rise into the air, a nasty, cruel sign. They're remnants of what their love used to be, the darkness that engulfs them once more when the temporary light is gone.
Even though he knows that nothing he can say or do, nothing she can do or say, will make it better, he continues to hold on.
To her, to hope, to their ever-diminishing love, wishing that one day everything will be better, and that one day, their smothered, blown out candle will flicker with a flame again. A new flare, a spark among the damaged remains of everything that has happened in the past years, through all the hurt, the sorrow, and the regret.
But for now, all he can do is live in the moment, and keep on praying for better things to come. That one day, there will be a new beginning.