Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own Harry Potter, a very wise woman named JKR does.
Rose Weasley
If looks could kill, Scorpius Malfoy would have been dead a long time ago.
There is no way I could describe how much I loathe him. Loathe him for being Head Boy. Loathe him for being a complete prat. Loathe him for even existing. Loathe him for being so bloody attracti—
I thumped myself on the head. How could my mind betray me like that? How could I even think such a thing, because he wasn't. Not to me anyway. I wasn't one of those girls mooning over him day and night, no. Just because he might be quite handsome, there is no way that he is even remotely attractive to me. Not at all. I mean, flobberworms are more attractive than him. Besides, he was the epitome of horrible. He is the most vile person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. No matter what happened at the end or term party in the Gryffindor common room last year.
I shook my head, shaking that thought out of my mind.
I was so not ready to get on the train, because getting on the train would mean going to Hogwarts, going to Hogwarts would mean having to share a common room with Scorpius Malfoy. I shuddered.
I finally pulled myself out of bed, and pulled on a pair of skinny jeans, and a grey shirt. My old black Converse finished my simple look. I swiped on a bit of makeup, and ran a brush through my thick, wavy, fire-truck red hair that I hate.
I skipped breakfast that morning, finishing up my last minute packing. Hugo popped his mused head into my room. "We're leaving in ten minutes." He said, and almost pulled his head back out. He cocked his head, stepping into my room. "What's that?" he pointed.
I followed his gaze to the notebook sticking out from under my mattress. I swiped it. "Nothing. Just old notes."
He smirked. "Under your mattress?"
Damn. He knows me too well.
"Get out." I waved my hand, and the pesky fifteen year-old backed out, whistling cheerily.
"Little bugger." I muttered loudly.
"Fuck off." He called back cheerily.
I pull my trunk downstairs, making a bunch of noise. We load our trunks in the car, which my father drives very badly, cursing loudly, reminding me where I got my potty mouth. My mother scolds him from the passenger seat, but I see her smiling fondly in the mirror. My parents are the sort of adults that are so in love that even at a completely inappropriate age to be making out in public, they still do. It's fairly repulsive and somewhat enviable at the same time.
After the traditional, but somewhat more tearful than usual, goodbye from Mum and Dad, and the greeting of a million Potter/Weasleys, I board the train with Albus. Hugo goes off to sit with his fellow Huffelpuff mates, and me and Al find an empty compartment in the back.
"So, you're going out for Keeper this year, right?" Al asks me.
"No way." I laugh.
He drops his trunk and puts his owl cage on top of it, plopping down on his seat. I do that sat, and sit across from him.
"Why not?" He asks, making a face at me.
I make one back, "Because I don't want to."
"But you always kick our asses at the Potter/Weasley reunions. You have your Dad's skill." He shares with me, as if I don't already know I am a kick-ass Keeper.
I shrug, "Too busy."
He groans at me, "Stupid excuse."
I laugh at his face, "Why would you want an amazing Keeper on the team that you desperately want to beat for the Cup?"
He considers, "Fair point."
The food trolley rolls past, and we get a bunch of chocolate frogs, trading cards for an hour or so. Al gets bored after a while, and I start to read my book.
Then the bane of my existence barges into our compartment, and plops down on the seat next to me. "Hello Weasley." The git says, smirking at me.
"Hello Malfoy." I say, closing my book.
The git has his long arm slung around my shoulder. I scoot away, and his arm falls to the seat. I ignore him, which has become fairly easy over seven years. Even though I see him at every family reunion, and most major holidays. Him and Al are fucking attached at the hip, I swear to Merlin.
"Hey Al." He grins at his best mate.
"Yo." Al says, with a mouth full of chocolate.
"Al,", Scorpius says in a condescending tone, "Don't talk with your mouth full around a lady." He gives me the up and down look, "Though I wouldn't consider Weasel here a lady exactly."
Prick. I saw his eyes linger on my boobs. Not a lady my arse. I pick up my book again, and flip him off. He just laughs.
"Someone's a bit feisty today, aren't we?" Scorpius asks, stretching his long legs out across the seat opposite him. Al shakes his head at us, long used to us bickering.
"Someone's a bit of an asshole today, aren't we?" I fire back.
Al chuckles to himself, and Scorpius gives him a look. Al fake-coughs to cover his laugh. "Get along, you too." He says wearily. These words have a watered-down effect after so many times of him saying it. It's something that will never happen.
The prick gets up, "Well we have a Prefect meeting to endure." He starts for the door, "Bye Al." Al never got picked for prefect, Scorpius as chosen over him, and now chosen to be Head Boy. I get up too, and follow a few steps behind Malfoy, keeping my distance.
"So,", He starts, looking back at me, grey eyes wondering up to look into mine, "Are you going to really talk to me now?"
"Nope." I reply, and keep my eyes focused on his shoulder, so as to not look at his face.
He grins at me, a crooked smile that turns up on the left side. "C'mon. You used to a talk to me."
"I'm talking to you right now." I retort.
"Not what I meant." He looks at me again, and my damn traitor heart starts beating a little faster.
He quickens his pace, and makes a sudden stop. I slam into his hard back. "Ouch!" I stumble. I hit his even harder shoulder. Now my hand hurts. Great. "Why'd you do that?"
"Prefect carriage." He points a thumb at the door in front of us, raising his eyebrows seriously.
I hit him again, and he quirks a smile at my weak attempts. He grabs my wrist when I go for another hit. He doesn't grip it tightly enough to hurt, nor loose enough for me to break his grip. We stand there for a moment more, him looking into my eyes, a smirk playing at his lips.
Someone slides past us, and I finally break eye contact. He drops my wrist, and opens the door of the prefect carriage without another word. I follow him, closing the door behind me.
I sit down as far as possible on the seat, but there is still only two feet in between us. He smirks at me when I glance at him, and I hurriedly face the Huffelpuff prefect across from me.
Damn sexual tension.
