I watch from a distance as she sits in a corner of the courtyard, pouring over her Transfiguration textbook, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She would never admit that she was hurting, but to anyone who really cares about her, it's fairly obvious. She just hasn't been the same since Christmas break, but I have no way of knowing why, since she never tells me anything. Why would she, seeing as how we aren't exactly friends, and she's never said more that twelve words total to me (I kept track)?
Then again, it isn't just me she hasn't confided in; she also won't tell Albus-her cousin, my best friend, and the only member of her family willing to even look in my direction—what's bothering her. I know because she is a common topic during our nightly chats in front of the Slytherin common room fire, a tradition we started back in first year, when we were the only two boys whom no one else in our dorm would talk to (him, because he was a Potter/Weasley mix, and therefore did not belong in Slytherin; me, because my family were seen as traitors by the families of the aforementioned dorm mates after the war). Usually, he comments on her odd behavior, and I pretend to not know what he's talking about, but I think he's always known of my infatuation. He never says anything, but I'll occasionally catch him shooting me knowing looks whenever my face shows too much concern for the girl.
It's hardly as if I can help it, though. She is an amazing creature, and there was no way for me not to fall for her. Granted, I probably could have hidden it better, but when you only have one friend in a castle with hundreds of students, chances are he'll see through even your most thorough façade. If only I had the courage to say to her what her cousin can so easily see. I've never been good with words, and she seems to render me further speechless. I get distracted by her auburn hair, that's just the right shade of red, and her sapphire eyes that, when pointed in my direction, cause my heart to palpitate and my feet to become nailed to the floor. Speaking of piercing sapphire eyes, they turn in my direction and meet my slate grey irises from across the courtyard, and I can see even from here that they're red and puffy. I want nothing more in this moment than to go over and hold her, to stop the pain for even a little while, but before I can work up the nerve to stand, her eyes pass by me and on to the surrounding students milling about the courtyard.
By now, I am used to this. Her eyes never linger on me for more than a second; there's no spark of recognition when she looks at me. I'm nothing to her but her cousin's quiet friend, while to me, she is everything. I long for the words to tell her how much she means to me, but my fear that she'll reject me, and I won't even have the luxury of secretly admiring from afar keeps me from saying anything. I watch her alternate between reading and scanning the area for anyone who may have noticed that she's spending more time crying than reading for another hour before she stands up and walks away, leaving me free to head back to the common room. I know Al will be wondering where I've been, but I can hardly tell him I was spying on his magnificent, albeit wounded, cousin. I decide to just head to bed early and hope he won't notice that I will probably get less than an hour of sleep, just like every other night this week, because I'll be haunted all night by a pair of sapphire eyes swimming with tears.
The weekend comes and goes, and before I know it, it's Monday. I walk to Charms, hoping to catch a glimpse of perfect auburn hair and the person attached, whom I haven't seen since Friday in the courtyard. She never even came down to the Great Hall for mealtimes, and I'm beginning to get worried.
Suddenly, I spot a hint of red in my peripheral vision, and immediately focus all of my attention in that direction. There she is, gliding down the hallway (because she never walks; she glides), one of her numerous female cousins by her side. I subconsciously scan her face for any signs that her distress has gotten worse in the two days since I last saw her, but it's hard to tell when her eyes are hiding behind a bright red curtain of hair. My thoughts travel to just this past summer, when by some stroke of luck we both ended up at Al's for a few days, and I think longingly of how she would smile and pull her hair out of her freckled face as she was talking to Lily, Albus' sister. So much has changed since then, and I can't help but miss seeing her that happy. It's like, by hiding her face behind her hair, she's hiding herself from the world, and I want nothing more than to push it aside and expose her, so that hopefully, I can help her.
We both reach the door to the classroom at the same time, and I step back to let her and her cousin (Dominique?) go through first. Her cousin just walks past me, but she turns and looks at me with those big, blue eyes and says, "Thank you," before entering the room. It's only two words, but they give me hope that maybe, some day, she'll notice me.
As I walk in and take my seat beside Albus and behind her and their cousin, I notice a small upturning of her lips, and my heart swells. Although I would like to have been the one to put that smile on her face, I'm just grateful that she's feeling even a little better. I spend the rest of the lesson wondering what she could be happy about and how I could make her smile in the future. While I may end up regretting this decision come exam time, for now I consider this time well spent.
After class, Al and I head off to Transfiguration, while she goes to Arithmancy, and the day passes without much excitement. I spend the day thinking about her, and Albus spends it shoving me to get me to listen to the professors. I'm relieved when our last class lets out, because I can finally be free to do nothing. Those hopes are dashed when Al suggests we play a quick game of quidditch before supper, but I agree nonetheless, because I probably won't see her until then anyway.
We head out to the pitch, brooms slung over our shoulders, and I breathe in the fresh air of the Hogwarts grounds. It clears my head, and I can almost forget the girl who's been plaguing my thoughts all day (almost, because she never really leaves my mind). We finally reach the entrance to the pitch, and I mount my broom, swiftly kicking off from the ground and soaring fifty feet into the air. I let the feeling of flying take over my senses, leaving my problems on the ground below. I'm so immersed in the sensation that I almost don't hear the scream.
It seems Albus told one of his other cousins about our impromptu game, who in turn, dragged her out to the stands. I'm not sure how I missed her fiery red hair (because even from up here, it stands out), but I'm regretting it now. It seems as if her cousin decided it would be fun to dangle her scarf over the railing for some unfathomable reason, and when she leaned over to retrieve it, she lost her footing and was now dangling from the edge of the stands. I do a 180 and speed over to where she's hanging, but it's anyone's guess whether or not I'll make it in time.
It seems like it takes years to reach her, but I finally manage to steer my broom to just the right angle that I can safely pull her onto it with me. However, as I reach out to grab hold of her waist, she kicks, obviously not seeing me trying to help her. Her cousin yells at her to stop moving, but she's already in hysterics, and can't seem to understand what she's being told over the sound of her screams. Eventually, I simply fly down to below her and yell to her that I'm ready to catch her when she lets go (I can't help but think that this statement applies in other ways as well).
She looks down at me, and I'm struck by the emotion I see in her eyes. It's not indifference, as I so often see in them; nor is it the pain that I've come to expect. It's something suspiciously close to trust, and the thought that this might actually be the case settles my resolve to catch her no matter what (and I'm not just talking about the current situation, either).
I beckon to her to let her know I'm ready, and she squeezes her eyes tight before quickly letting go of the railing. I catch her, and I barely have time to register how it feels to have her in my arms (amazing) before Albus, whom I hadn't even noticed was gone, is yelling up at me along with Madame Pomfrey, whom he must have run to fetch once he saw that I was on my way to help his cousin. I slowly descend, keeping my hold on the frightened girl, until I hit the ground, and she is whisked away from me by the elderly matron.
As soon as she's taken away, my arms feel cold, and I can't help but miss her, although she's only a few feet away. Madame Pomfrey begins to lead her up to the castle, when she turns around and asks me (me) to come with her. I don't even consider saying no, and my feet carry themselves to her side, my arm replacing the matron's around her shoulders to allow her to walk ahead without holding her up. I walk her to the hospital wing, my thoughts a garbled mixture of bliss and worry. Bliss, because she chose me to accompany her over her cousins, and worry because she might change her mind.
We enter the hospital wing, and I set her down on the closest bed to the door while Madame Pomfrey rushes into her office, coming back out with a vial of calming draught. I watch as she drinks it down, then another vial of what I presume is something to make her sleep. I don't realize I'm staring, and I jump when she grabs my hand, silently asking me to stay with her. I could never refuse her anything, so pull up a chair and watch her face as she slowly slips into unconsciousness. I don't know how long it is before I slowly start to do the same.
When I wake up, I notice two things immediately: that I'm in a very uncomfortable position, and that my hand is holding something soft and warm. I lift my head from its place on what appears to be a bed, and when my eyes meet the two sapphire orbs of the bed's occupant, the events of the previous day come flooding back. I saved her. I saved her. I saved her! She looks at me confused, probably wondering at the look of pure ecstasy I'm sure is on my face. When I realize how odd I must look, I tone it down a bit, and feel my face heating slightly. Way to go, Scorpius. Like she doesn't already think you're weird enough. I finally find my voice, and rasp out an embarrassed, "Hi."
She looks at me strangely, and after my highly eloquent greeting and entirely composed reaction upon waking up, it's no surprise that her only reply is simply to say, "Hi," back. We both sit in an awkward silence until I get up the nerve to break it.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Around four in the morning. I would have woken you up, but you looked so peaceful."
"Oh…um…thanks," is my ever-so-intelligent answer to that. Can you blame me, though? It's not every day that I get the girl of my dreams (literally, since I was just awoken from a very pleasant dream about the two of us on a picnic by the Black Lake) telling me that she didn't want to wake me because I looked peaceful. It of course doesn't help my nervousness that she's still holding my hand. She's still holding my hand!
She seems to realize this at the same time I do, because she hastily lets go on the pretense of reaching for the glass of water on her bedside table. Meanwhile, my hand goes up to run itself through my messy blond hair that seems to be sticking up on one side from sleeping on it. Attractive. I sit back in my chair and sigh; it doesn't seem like things will be getting any less awkward any time soon. I turn to her and ask if she wants me to go see if the matron can give her more potion to help her sleep, and am surprised when she starts crying.
"W-what's wrong? Did I say something? I-I'm sorry," I stutter out helplessly, trying to calm her down, because it hurts to know that I may have caused her distress. She shakes her head, but keeps crying, prompting me to conjure her a handkerchief. She takes it with a watery smile before sobbing even harder, and my restraint is broken. I hurriedly stand up and wrap my arms around her, whispering in her ear that everything will be okay, even though I'm not sure I can keep that promise if she won't tell me what's wrong. However, at that moment, I don't care, because I'm holding my world in my arms, and from the looks of it, I'm also holding her together.
It's a good half hour before she finally calms down enough to apologize, though in my mind, she has nothing to apologize for. I tell her this, but she just scoffs and says, "Yes, because I'm sure you thoroughly enjoyed having some insane witch crying on your shoulder and soaking your shirt. It's okay; you don't have to pretend you're not uncomfortable."
I, of course, have no idea what she's talking about. I'm leaning over the hospital bed, with my arms wrapped awkwardly around her, my hair a mess, and one side of my shirt drenched, and I've never been more comfortable in my life. If this is what Heaven is like, then I can't wait to die.
I look her in the eyes and say, "No. Don't apologize for crying. You're hurt; it's understandable. And I want you to know that…that you can tell me anything." There, I said it. Now she knows that she can confide in me, and if she does, then I'll know she trusts me to some extent. But if she doesn't…if she doesn't, at least it will be her choice, and not because she thinks I won't listen. If it makes her happy, I'll never speak to her again (as much as it will kill me inside). If she wants me gone, I'll disappear.
I brace myself for her rejection (because I know it's inevitable), and I'm expecting her to push me away, to glare at me and tell me that it's none of my business. What I don't expect is what she does next, which is to wrap her arms around me and whisper into my shoulder, "I know."
After that, it's like the floodgates open, and everything seems to spill out. I hold her while she clings to my shirt, telling me about everything that's been hurting her over the past few months. She tells me about how she found out her last boyfriend had been cheating on her (I remember the day they broke up vividly; I was ecstatic that he was out of her life, but worried that she might be taking it hard), how she doesn't feel as close to her family anymore because she'd been secluding herself somewhat since the breakup (so that's why there hasn't been much for Al to tell me about her recently), and how she's started to develop feelings for someone else, but she can never tell him because he doesn't see her that way (I'm about ready to die when I hear this, but I'm more inclined to go pound the dirtbag into the floor for not wanting her).
I hardly notice that I've moved until she stops crying and I realize we're both sitting on the bed with our arms wrapped around each other. I look out the window to see it's getting light out, and Madame Pomfrey will be coming out of her office to check on her in a matter of hours, so I turn to tell her that I'll probably have to leave soon, but find that she's fallen asleep in my arms. I can't bear to wake her, so I gently lay her down and crawl off of the bed as carefully as possible. I'm about to sneak away to my dormitory, but something holds me there. The early morning sun is shining through the high infirmary windows, lighting up the side of her face and making her look like the angel I've always suspected her of being. On impulse, I lean down and gently touch my lips to her forehead. I softly whisper to the sleeping beauty before I walk through the doors of the hospital wing.
"Goodnight, Rose. I love you."