Giant Groundless Grudge
Rose Weasley was merely a sweet, quiet, intelligent girl to anyone who didn't know her. And she was those things, certainly. But to those who did know her, she was also kind and funny and very loyal and protective. And though even fewer people knew this about her, she had a fiercely competitive streak. She didn't know if it came from her father's Weasley blood or her mother's Granger side, but either way, it was there and it was often raring for a fight and she had to work very hard most of the time to keep it in check and remember that other people did have their merits as well. Perhaps her over-compensation is what led to her reputation as a 'sweet, quiet, and intelligent' girl, but no one questioned it, she least of all.
So when her father made his pronouncement, his command, his decree, she took him quite seriously. From that day forth, Scorpius Malfoy was her undeclared rival in all things. From the start, she obsessed over exams and class marks, reveling in satisfaction when she scored higher than him and plunging to the depths of self-degradation when he outdid her. The fact that they were both in Ravenclaw made it easy to keep an eye on him. He was not strictly popular in their year or House: his surname still meant something in the halls of Hogwarts and he had few close friends, and spent most of his time reading.
Her private frustration and obsession grew as their time at Hogwarts passed, and soon they were going into their fifth year. She and her rival were neck and neck for first place in the form, and what made it doubly irritating to her was that he seemed to exert no effort before attaining top marks.
It was just the end of August now. She and Hugo had gotten their letters and done their shopping, and she was in the midst of pre-reading all of her class books. Her father teased her mercilessly for trying to outdo her mother, but she paid him no mind. THIS was the year. Their O.W.L. year. She would finally outdo him in all things! And what made this declaration even surer was that she had gotten a little blue Prefect badge with her list this year. True, Al was the Gryffindor boy Prefect of their year, but that was a shoo-in: he got middling good marks, got along with everyone, and was a Chaser on the Quidditch team, with James continuing the Potter tradition of being Seeker. James was not a Prefect, but he didn't really care.
The only thing that made her satisfaction with herself the slightest bit sour was that she had the sinking suspicion of just who would be receiving the little blue badge that matched hers.
And lo and behold, who should she see that morning on the first of September, lounging in the Prefects carriage, just as cool as a cucumber? None other than her rival himself, the damn blasted bastard. He just couldn't let her win at anything, could he? She couldn't keep a single piece of satisfaction for herself. Nearly trembling with fury, she sat as far from him as possible as the Head Boy and Girl, Angel Lewis of Hufflepuff and Scotty Gate of Gryffindor, started telling them all about what was expected of them as Prefects and how duties would be divvied up over the semester and such. Rose did her very best to listen, truly, but his presence seemed to poison the very air she breathed and it was difficult to keep herself to simply glowering. She tried to relax afterwards as she and Al made their way back along the length of the train to join a few mutual friends for the rest of the ride. As new Prefects, they weren't patrolling the train, and she made it to Hogwarts with no further unpleasantness.
The new first years were amusing, the feast was sumptuous, her classmates cheering, and the evening soothing. She avoided so much as looking at her rival even as they assisted in leading the new students up to Ravenclaw Tower, and she banished him from her thoughts as evening bled into night and she prepared for classes the next day.
She got her class schedule and Prefect duty roster the next morning at breakfast, and scanned both with interest. She was quite acquainted with her classes by now. As a fifth year she was well into her supplementary courses, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, and the standard core ones were old news. Her Prefect duty roster yielded newer information. Her duties were limited to a few easy patrol slots with an older Prefect accompanying her at first, but then later in the semester she was paired with others from her year. She had several with Al, she was pleased to note, and winced to see she had a cluster with Maureen Corrigan of Slytherin late in the term. And of course… a number with him. How she was supposed to survive two whole hours of wandering the castle looking for rule breakers with her rival seemed an impossible problem. She grouchily stuffed the pages of parchment into her bag and went off to Charms.
Rose had the habit of sitting front and center of any classroom she inhabited (a trait she understood she'd inherited from her mother), and this was no exception. She was early, another habit, and took out her book for a last-minute cram session. She was not one to put off till tomorrow what could be done right then and there, and her goal of crushing her rival was no exception. Today she would know every concept, be able to demonstrate every spell.
The rest of the class began filing in a few minutes later, but she was so focused on her reading that she didn't register the person who sat down next to her until he spoke.
"Hey."
She froze.
Was he serious? Had he actually just sat down next to her and addressed her as if it was no big deal? It WAS a big deal, actually. They had never even spoken to one another, she had made sure of that! And he said hey? What was he doing? Was it some kind of trick to distract her so that she would miss some vital point in the text and be humiliated in front of Professor Flitwick? She ignored him.
"Hello? Rose?"
Of all the audacity! To call her by her given name! They were NOT on those sorts of terms, not even a little bit! She ignored him even harder.
"Rose? Hello, good morning?"
"What?" she snapped, glaring up at him.
His grey eyes were shock-wide beneath his white-blond hair, signature to his lineage just as her blue eyes and fiery red hair were to hers. "I just wanted to say good morning…" he said, tones thick with confusion. Why he should be confused, she had no idea. Hadn't ignoring him been sufficient evidence that she didn't want to talk?
"Well, I am trying to study," she replied sharply, stabbing her book with the tip of her wand to emphasize the point. "So please leave me be. And you may not call me by my first name, Mister Malfoy."
He seemed stunned mute, so she ignored him soundly and went back to her book until Professor Flitwick arrived five minutes later. He didn't speak again for the rest of class, even to respond to open questions, which she took pleasure and pride in answering perfectly.
He seemed to have learned his lesson well, and the next month was joyously rival-free. He didn't even speak to her during all-Prefect meetings, where she sat with Al and kept her back straight and her face pointed away from him at all cost, even when he was speaking (which was admittedly rare). She would not give him the satisfaction.
Time passed in this pleasant way until that much-dreaded evening of their first joint patrol. She had spent to day resigning herself to its inevitability, and by quarter till 6 she considered herself adequately prepared. They met in the common room at 6 sharp (she supposed she was grateful he was punctual at least) and set out into the castle. They were taking a long, uneventful, meandering path through the west wing when he broke the silence.
"Are you enjoying classes this year?"
She pursed her lips angrily. And she had been doing so well! If he insisted on talking, there was no telling whether or not she'd be able to keep a civil tongue in her head. It was hard enough to not take off sprinting just from maintaining such close proximity.
"Yes," she said, her tone clipped.
"How did you feel about the Runes essay?"
Honestly! It was already a constant thorn in her side that he was in the same supplemental classes. Did he really have to remind her? "Fine," she replied shortly.
"Really? I was a little—"
"Look," she cut him off ungraciously. "We're on patrol. It's a job. Let's not jabber and miss something."
He did the intelligent thing and shut up, looking confused, and… hurt? Was that what she saw? No, what nonsense. He had been asking for it. And she wasn't nearly as rude as she had wanted to be. The next hour and a half passed in perfect silence, except when they found a trio of first-years trying to set off a bunch of Wet-Start No-Heat Firecrackers near the Library. But after that they returned to Ravenclaw Tower and Rose went up to her dormitory, congratulating herself on dealing with a bad situation very well.
But of course, there were other patrols to be got through. She enjoyed the five weeks which elapsed between them, but in the end there was no way around it, short of confiscating a Puking Pastille and taking it herself, which was hardly about to happen. They met in the common room once more, at 6 sharp, and she had to again reluctantly summon gratitude for his punctuality.
"Well, shall we get this over with then?" she said smartly as she led the way out of the knocker-guarded door.
"Wait, Rose," he said. She turned right around and gaped at him. "Miss Weasley," he corrected himself uncomfortably. They were only half the hall's length away from the Ravenclaw entrance.
"What?" she asked in perfect astonishment. Had she not established clearly enough that she wanted as little communication with him as possible? That she actually really did not like him and wouldn't ever come within five meters of him if she had her way? How could she have been any less ambiguous about her feelings?
"Why do you hate me so much?" he asked baldly.
Why? Why did she hate him? What a ridiculous question. They were rivals, of course. They had been since first year, since their very first Transfiguration exam when he got a 97 and she got merely a 96. Since before that even, when she'd made her private vow to obey her father. Since she had made it her ultimate goal to best him in everything, had dedicated her life to it, sacrificed sleep and friends and so many mundane other things for him… and he dared ask 'why'?
"You…"
He looked at her, blatant curiosity blazed across his features.
"You always get better marks than I do." She sounded so sulky, so childish! Why could she not accurately express her loathing, her repulsion? These feelings should have proper names but seemed to have no words.
"I do not," he countered incredulously. She glared at him defiantly, daring him to devalue her righteous hatred, because that's just what he'd do, just what she should expect—! "You do better than me at least two thirds of the time."
Two thirds? No, it happened far less frequently than that. The 97-96 situation in first year had been indicative of their whole non-relationship pattern. But even as she denied it to herself, her mind was hard at work tallying the marks in all their classes of the past few months, and yes, he was right, she frequently outscored him. Nearly three quarters of the time rather than two thirds. But… that didn't make sense. In her heart, it felt like she was constantly playing catch-up with him, like she was always just a few steps behind him. If she was so much better than him, what was the reason for her obsession? There had to be one, a good one, she'd built her whole life around hating him…
"I've spoken to people, and no one has a single bad thing to say about you. It's a bit scary really. But they all agree that you're not the sort of person to irrationally hate someone. We've barely ever interacted, hardly spoken before this year, and you obviously don't like me at all. What did I ever do? Let me make it up."
"I… I don't…"
"Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie."
Could that really be all it was? Some passing joke her father made? There had to be more to it than that, hadn't there? There was no way she'd spent nearly four and a half years scraping and scrabbling for good marks on some whimsy of her father. These deep, hard feelings could not have been born from 'beat him in every test, Rosie', it just wasn't possible.
"Rose?" He had come close to her and she suddenly realized she had been standing silent in the hallway for several extended moments. "Please, tell me what I've done. I don't enjoy being disliked, especially when I don't know the reason for it."
"Oh," she choked, and out it all spilled. "I don't even think there is a reason. After all this, and all it was was my father telling me to do better than you on tests just because he doesn't like your father. And I get so competitive, and you did better than me on our first Transfiguration exam, and I just hated you for that, and ever since I've tried to do better, and you just didn't care at all, and that just made it worse, and you never seemed to try at anything, and it made me so angry and there's nothing I want to do more than beat you, but now there's no good reason for that, or for me to hate you at all, and I don't know what to do!" And with this tragic declaration, she burst into tears.
Scorpius—she couldn't very well call him her rival anymore—stood in front of her, stiff-backed and awkward, not at all sure of what he should do. A gaggle of second years passed by and began whispering behind their hands. Finally, Scorpius took her gently by the elbow and led her round the corner and into a narrow secret passage behind a tapestry. Rose, who had noticed very little of this, made a valiant effort to quell her sobs, but they kept boiling over again and again.
What was she meant to do now? Scorpius was her defining feature, the thing she reacted against, the dark to her light…. This rivalry, one-sided and silly though she now realized it to be, was her driving force. Without it, she had no direction.
After a time, she cried herself out and slumped against the wall, hopeless and drained.
"Will you be alright?" Scorpius asked nervously, and Rose looked up and met his eyes without loathing for the first time since meeting him.
"Yes, I expect so. …Thank you. Scorpius. I don't think I feel up to patrol though. Sorry."
"It's alright. I think I saw Sophia Corner in the common room. Tell her you feel ill and ask if she can cover for you." Sophia was a sixth year Ravenclaw Prefect, and had eyes for James. Rose had told her many times that James was a royal prat, but Sophia didn't listen. She nodded and stepped out from behind the tapestry, Scorpius close behind.
"I'll send her out. Thanks again…" she said uncomfortably. He nodded and leaned against the wall, evidently to wait for Sophia.
Rose felt rather muddled over the next few days. Losing her hatred for Scorpius had left a big gaping hole in her emotional makeup, and she was not at all sure what was meant to replace it. Her friends Alison Boot and Emma Wood told her she looked pale and peaked, and tried several times to hustle her down to Madam Pomfrey, but she put them off. Haven't been sleeping right, she said. Give it a day, I'll feel better, she said.
And she did, albeit slowly. She began by not ignoring Scorpius. Now that he wasn't her rival anymore, it seemed silly to not acknowledge him, at least. And they had the two highest scores in their year: it made sense to work together, to collaborate. And if that meant that sometimes they stayed up a bit late in the common room together, laughing over their essay on the Draught of Peace or some such, what of it?
So all things considered, Rose's life improved immeasurably.
It was nearing winter holiday when Billy McMillian asked her out. It was just at the end of Transfiguration, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's last class before lunch on Wednesdays. She was putting her things away in her bag, Emma and Alison chatting away next to her, when Billy came up and leaned against the desk next to hers. Rose sensed rather than saw her two friends exchange a loaded look before making a hasty exit.
"Hello, Rose," Billy said affably. He was a nice boy with a big nose, brown eyes, and his father's straw-blonde hair. "Listen, I was wondering if you might like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend, since it's our last one before Christmas and all."
For some reason, she glanced at Scorpius, two desks to the left and one row behind hers, who was shuffling parchment about on his desk and didn't seem to be listening.
"Unless… you've got a date already or something. Which is fine," Billy amended awkwardly, noting the direction of her gaze. "Some other time, you know, maybe…"
"Oh, no, it's fine: I haven't got a date. I just… don't know yet if I have Prefect duty this weekend or not. Can I get back to you later about it? Tomorrow?"
His expression cleared. "Oh, sure! Yeah, fine. No problem. Well, see you Rose."
"See you Billy," she replied absently as he waved and left the classroom.
"You don't have Prefect duty this weekend," said a voice at her shoulder a few moments later. She startled and spun in her seat to see Scorpius leaning just where Billy had a moment ago, with a big Cheshire grin spread across his smarmy, ferrety face. She had to admit she was glad they were friends now. He had a lot more personality than she had given him credit for originally.
"I will if I decide not to go with him," she replied smartly, stuffing the rest of her books in her bag and standing up.
"Oh-ho! She has claws! Though I notice that you let him call you Rose rather than Miss Weasley," he added, following her into the corridor leading down to the Great Hall.
"I didn't hold a giant groundless grudge against Billy McMillian for five years," she replied ruefully. "Pretty much everyone got to call me Rose except you."
"My heart bleeds," he said wryly. "You don't want to go with him then? To Hogsmeade?"
"I don't know," she answered gloomily. "Not really, I guess. He's nice enough, but I don't think that's a good reason to date someone."
"What is a good reason to date someone?"
"Oh, I don't know. It's not like I've ever done any dating except with Alfie Finch-Fletchley that one time two years ago, before James scared him off. I suppose good reasons are being pretty sure you like someone, or being attracted to them, or something."
"And you don't feel those things for Billy," he surmised.
"Well, he's nice—"
"That's a 'no' in disguise. You don't have to feel bad about not liking him, you know. It's not your fault."
"Are you sure you're not a girl?"
"I'm just repeating everything Beverly told me when she shot me down last year."
"Bev Higgs? You asked her out?" She didn't normally like the girl in question, but that was no reason for the sudden stab of confusion and anger she felt, was there?
Scorpius shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Really?"
"Well, you just said it: I reckoned I liked her, and she is good looking."
They had reached the Great Hall by then, and tucked in to curry rice before going off to Potions. Rose, for one, was glad to be off the topic of dating.
That night, she went to find Angel Lewis in the Library and arranged to swap Prefect duties with Mackenzie Flint for that Saturday.
Telling Billy the next day was easy. He was disappointed, of course, but she was very apologetic about it all, and he wasn't the sort of boy to take that sort of thing to heart.
So away went most of the school that Saturday, and there stayed Rose, relieved but obscurely confused at the same time. She felt that she had avoided something bad by not going with Billy, but she didn't know what. Going on a date with him wouldn't have hurt anyone, right? True, she didn't really like him, but 'liking' wasn't always required for 'dating', was it? Her excuses felt hollow, and she wandered the castle aimlessly, pretending to be on patrol. She didn't even know who she was on duty with: a seventh year Gryffindor, she thought, but she couldn't remember.
Just as she rounded the corner to the Library, something tall and blond cannoned into her and both she and the thing went stumbling and careening into the walls. Rose's shoulder became a starburst of pain as it collided with stone, and she heard the tall blond thing swearing nearby.
"Bloody—fucking—OW!"
She turned herself around and saw her inadvertent attacker was Scorpius, and that he had somehow knocked both his elbow and his jaw, and holding them both at once wasn't going well.
"What are you doing here?" Rose asked in confused amazement. Scorpius didn't have Prefect duty, and he couldn't have homework since it was the end of term. Why in Merlin's name would he have stayed in the castle?
"Where the hell have you been!?" he shouted instead of answering her question.
"Patrolling—sort of," she replied defensively. "Why do you want to know? Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"
"I've been all over the castle looking for you!" He was still shouting, to her growing confusion.
"Why? Is something wrong?" Now that she paused to look, he did seem a bit rabid around the edges. But why would finding her be such a priority? Her brother and cousins would all be in the village, and there would be other Prefects on duty, and professors around.
He ignored her question again. "Rose, tell me straight: am I the reason you didn't want to go out with Billy McMillian? Do you like me?"
She stopped absolutely still. Quite froze, in fact. She thought of her anger when he'd talked of asking Beverly Higgs out, which she hadn't identified as jealousy till just now. She thought of the big hole in her emotional makeup when she had had to give up hating him, and the mournful question of what was supposed to take its place. Was affection the answer? Did she like him?
Her usually organized mind was in an uproar, searching for the answer. But really, she didn't have to look far. It was like whipping the sheet off a statue, finding it fully formed and waiting to be admired and enjoyed.
So, "Yes," was her simple reply. And then he smiled, truly smiled, not a little smirk or a mocking grin, but a full, happy smile, full of joy and anxiety and silly excitement and a million other things.
"Well. Good! Well. Hm." He smiled some more, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Now what?"
"I'm actually supposed to be on patrol, you know," she reminded him. But there was a big bubble of euphoria swelling into her lungs, and the rebuttal didn't come out as reproving as it might have.
"That sounds lonely," he declared.
"Do you know anyone who'd want to come with me?" she teased.
"Me. I want to."
She blushed at his straightforward answer and struggled to contain the smile trying to spread across her face. She thought her cheeks would be too small. "Well, I was just going to check in on the Library."
He offered her his arm, and she took it happily. "After this, maybe we can patrol our way into a broom cupboard, or a secret passage. The castle's nearly empty, you know."
"Don't you go getting ahead of yourself, sir," she admonished, but grinned widely nonetheless. And whether they found a broom closet or not, neither will say to this day.
A/N: I don't really ship anything hard-core in the HP universe, but I think the idea of these two together is a little dash of funny karma. Why are all my ships of the enemies-to-friends variety? It's very stressful to write. Anyway, I really had a good time with this one, and I hope you liked reading it.
Dear flamers: thanks for upping my review count. :)
All characters are owned by J.K. Rowling.
E.I. signing out