She was always chasing after him. Rose never attempted to hide it, fumbling through her words whenever he was near. It amused him that he was the one who caught her attention so thoroughly. He never attempted to hide his amusement, responding to her awkward courting with nothing more than a wink and, more often than not, the sight of him kissing whomever was hanging on his arm that month. She never seemed to mind, he knew she never thought anything would come of them anyway. Yet, she never gave up and he never turned her away.
It was how it was, how they were. She was his best friends cousin, awkward in her every move, dropping things at the sight of him. He never held it against her, even if he and Albus teased her about every little thing without much thought of how this could affect her. It was a game to them, much like life itself. She presented an amusement that could drive away their constant boredom for a fleeting picture in time.
She gave him flowers once. They weren't roses. He imagined she must hate the sight of them and smiled at the irony of it as he took the flowers from her. Irony he liked, even if he didn't like her.
He never encouraged her, but he didn't discourage her either. Looking back, he supposed that act of selfishness might have been the worst thing he had done in his life, but that didn't occur to him when he laughed as she fell face flat at his feet after she had ran through the corridor the reach him, a parchel squashed below her. Nor did he think it was wrong of him to stand her up for Hogsmeade, choosing to spend the day with a pretty brunette whose name he couldn't tell you this day even if you threatened his life. He was selfish and enjoyed her attention, not because it was her, but because every boy his age wanted to be assured that people liked him, girls most of all. He was wanted, something very important to his adolescent mind.
She never blamed him. He enjoyed her attention. She enjoyed caching after him and he enjoyed being cached. Why should he take that away from her - from him. It didn't harm anyone.
Not once in the five years she went after him, did he think of the possibility that maybe, she did get hurt. That, when she skipped classes, it was because of him and not because she was with some friends, having the time of her life like he would have. That maybe, she cried herself to sleep some nights after he had made a joke out of her.
He lived his own life, and in there there was no room for such thoughts. He had never been hurt, so he couldn't imagine that his actions might have repercussions. No where in his mind was room for the selfless thoughts of how a teenage girl in love might feel after being humiliated and shunned by not only the boy she loved, but also her dearest cousin - but then again, he never thought he did either of those things.
He was selfish, and it didn't bother him one bit.
It was still dark outside and there was a strong wind blowing through the trees, making them groan and rumble under the pressure, making the surroundings oddly sinister. Dark clouds hung overhead, pregnant with storm. It was only a matter of time until it was ready to unleash it. A voice bellowed in the wind, trying to overrule the swirling madness, but even the dark, booming voice of the Slytherin captain was no match for the wing when it was let loose like this, making everything his playground.
Scorpius didn't try to listen. Instead he was gritting his teeth and hoping the spring storm overhead wouldn't unleash until he was well and inside again. He had flown in storms like this before and they had left enough of an impression on him that, if he were captain and they would have to play a match in this weather, he would have rather forfeited. But he wasn't captain, much to his irritation, and the bloke who was, didn't even see it fit to cancel a training because of such conditions. So here he was.
His eyes scanned the stands like he always did, but no familiar redhead with her nose so deep in her book that it was practically stuck to the pages was present. Not that he expected her there in this weather, but she had done stranger things before.
She hadn't been there last week either.
He looked at Albus, his best friend and fellow sufferer, and opened his mouth to ask him something, but he almost choked on the wind and by the time he was breathing normally again, the rest of his team had already kicked off and were trying to win in a game of tug and war with the wind.
He quickly kicked off the ground after them and focused on not falling off his broom for the next two hours.
There were candles floating over the long tables, providing them with light when Scorpius entered the great hall. Normally, the only source of light there was the sun, shining from up above, because the open sky ceilinged the Great Hall, even though it really didn't. Today, however, it was darker than night, dark clouds blocking any light that might be hidden behind them.
Scorpius scowled at it, his hair and robes soaked from the rain. He stalked over to the table that was closest to him and sat down, scowling at anyone who looked like they were about to comment on his appearance. He was so soaked. He felt like he would never be dry again.
Al sat down besides him in much the same manner. A lightning flash illuminated the room in a bright unnatural light for a moment and a small girl at another table screamed and burst into tears.
"Bloody first years," Scorpius muttered to his empty plate. "Screaming all over the place. Why can't they be decent and lock themselves up in their rooms if they are afraid of lightning instead of pestering us about it."
Al grumbled something indistinct back and smacked Scorpius on the arm. It was probably his cousin or something. Merlin knew he had enough of those. Scorpius began loading his plate with toast and eggs, sausages and beans.
"I hate Flint," Al said, loading his plate as well. "I don't care if his father was beater for the Tutshill Tornadoes. I thought I was going to die when lightning struck the Forbidden Forest. Good practice be damned, he is inhuman for making us play through that."
"I always thought he was more troll than man, personally," Scorpius said, pouring himself a good, steamy mug of coffee. "But I was wrong, even trolls have enough sense to run when their life is in peril."
Al grunted and looked over at the table at the other side of the room. It was covered in red and gold, the Gryffindor table. He had been doing that a lot since they had come back from the summer. Scorpius wondered if he might fancy someone.
"You need to hurry up and start eating, mate," Scorpius said, noticing Al hadn't taken a bite out of his pile of food yet. "We've got Transfiguration and I still need to get my books."
"Yeah," Al said, looking at his food with a resigned face and taking a bite - a small bite - out of it. "I need to get mine too. You almost finished?"
Scorpius nodded, taking a large drink out of his coffee mug and eating the last few bits off his plate. Al looked over at the Gryffindor table again, looked down at his food and pushed it away. Scorpius raised his eyebrows at that. Maybe he really did fancy someone.
"Let's go," Al said, pointedly ignoring the look that Scorpius was giving him.
Scorpius followed his best mate out of the dimly lit Great Hall, glancing over at the Gryffindor table to see who might have caught Al's eye, but all he saw was a sea of red heads - Al's family. They were all huddled together like they always were, arguing rather loudly about whatever one of them didn't like this morning. They were a loud bunch, rather annoying in his opinion, but he would never say that to Al.
"Are you coming, mate?" Al asked, having stopped in the doorway.
Scorpius looked away from the sea of red and nodded. Something irked him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He'd heard that people who'd recently lost limbs sometimes got an itch where there had previously been something to scratch. It felt like that, an itch he couldn't scratch. It bugged him for the rest of the day, until he realised what it was when he said her name in their last class of the day.
"Rose."
He was so distracted by it that he forgot what he had said.
"I don't think Rose'll be lending anyone notes," Al said with a sour face, doodling on a piece of parchment. He was drawing a picture of himself racing down to catch the snitch. He was such a little boy. They were in History of Magic, a class that was as dull as it was old. It was also taught by a ghost, professor Binns, and no one ever paid attention in class. Mostly because you could get away with it - it wasn't like Binns was going to notice - and also because, if you tried to pay attention, like Scorpius had done in his first year, you would impeccably fall asleep. Since he and Al never paid attention, they usually copied Rose's notes, which she was happy to lend. Scorpius had asked when they could lend notes off her.
"Why not?" he asked, looking at Al puzzled.
Al shrugged. "Haven't the slightest. I haven't seen her in days, to be honest. She was avoiding me over the summer too. I'm getting a bit worried that I might have said something to her without realising"
The itch. The itch he couldn't scratch because he couldn't lay his finger on what it was that irked him, was suddenly gone. That was it. The usually constant presence of Rose Weasley had suddenly fallen away this year. No blushes and mumbled hello's in the hallways. It had only taken him two weeks to notice.
"Why," he could hear himself ask, even though Al had just admitted he didn't know.
"Hell if I know," Al said, ripping apart his parchment and throwing the snippets at the girl in front of him. Several pieces stuck in her hair, what seemed to amuse Al.
"I haven't seen her either," Scorpius said, " Now that I think about it."
"Reckon she has finally gotten over you," Al asked with a sly smile.
Scorpius shrugged. "Took her long enough," he said. It was odd how the thought of the loss of Rose's affection affected him. He didn't like her, not in that way. They weren't even friends, but the thought of her not following him around and showering him with her devoted attention felt like he was suddenly unappealing. Like he was suddenly undesirable, which, quite frankly, was ridiculous. There were plenty of girls who liked him, or at least fancied a snog from him, but none of them had been like her.
"I'm going to miss taking the mickey out on her," Al sighed wistfully, his mind already made up about how Rose felt.
"Are you going to take notes then," Scorpius more told than asked Al. Al stifled a laugh and flicked a few snippets of parchment Scorpius' way, shaking his head.
"I think I'm going to take a nice nap. I deserve it after almost dying this morning," Al said, leaning down and using his book as a pillow. "Night."
Scorpius resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but rather than taking notes himself, he looked around the room. His eyes didn't find her. He looked again and finally found Rose sitting at the edge of the class. It was unmistakably her, no one else had hair like that, wild and bushy like a roaring bonfire late at night, but the rest of her didn't really look like her. Firstly, her nose wasn't in a book. Secondly, she was sleeping, her hair pulled under her head like a pillow. How strange, he thought to himself.
How strange. What an idiot he was back then. What a prick.
AN. I wanted to play around with how people act and how other people often misinterpret those things, because I feel like many stories I've stumbled on recently don't have that aspect and I now feel the need to fill that hole inside of myself.
I hope you'll like it and would love to hear some feedback. Thanks for reading. Cheers!