Story written for: The Darkness Factor
Story guidelines as follows:
Prompts:
1. That one character that stands in the corner, watching everyone else at a party.
2. "Are you willing to take a leap of faith?" (You can use it in the story or just as inspiration)
Characters or pairings you'd like to see: I've always been intrigued by Draco/Astoria, but I don't mind if the author ultimately decides that other characters fit better.
Likes: I'd like to see a little bit of dialogue.
Dislikes: Please no OOC (or, if there is some, not too much).
Disclaimer: we own nothing.
The Lioness and the Serpent
Rose Weasley stood against a table at the edge of the Great Hall, a thick charms textbook beneath her folded arms. The book looked incongruous against her pretty dark blue dress robes, but she couldn't imagine being without it. Even for a Ravenclaw, Rose was surprisingly studious. She really was never seen without a book in her hand. Even at the reinstated Hogwarts balls, events that were supposed to encourage inter-house unity and prevent something as horrible as the First and Second Wizarding Wars from ever happening again, she was far more likely to be found standing by the wall, trying to read by the flickering light of the candles in the crystal chandeliers than whirling round the dance floor.
And she preferred it that way. Really. After all, the only guy she really wanted to dance with was strictly off-limits. Not because he had a girlfriend or anything, but because of who he was, and because of who she was. He was a Slytherin, son to the youngest Death Eater to take part in the Second Wizarding War, and she was Rose Georgiana Weasley, the Ravenclaw daughter to two thirds of the Golden Trio. The fact that they were friends rather than rivals, as her father had wanted them to be, was bad enough. Openly dancing with him at one of these parties would give the gossips far too much fuel, and her father far too much reason to be infuriated with her.
As though he could read her thoughts, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy suddenly appeared at her shoulder.
"Not dancing, Rosy-Posy?" He asked, a teasing glint in his eye.
"Don't call me that," she retorted, swatting at him, but the suppressed laughter in her voice belied the fact that she was really angry with him.
"Sorry," he replied, not sounding sorry at all, "But anyway, not dancing?"
"Nah. I'm not really that kind of girl."
"I think you are. I think you just haven't danced with the right guy yet."
"And what's that supposed to mean? What would you know about me?" Rose gaped at Scorpius's boldness and he shrugged, "I've known you six years, Rosy-Posy. I think I know you pretty well by now. So come on. Dance with me."
"I can't!" Shocked that he would ask her so openly, Rose pulled back, "I can't. Scorpius, I can't!"
"Why not? Are we friends or are we not?"
"We are, of course we are, it's just…oh come on, Score. You're a Slytherin. I'm a Ravenclaw. You're Draco Malfoy's son; I'm Ron Weasley's daughter. Do you have any idea how much my father will hate me if I dance with you?"
"I'm not my father!" The words, thick with hurt, sprang from Scorpius's lips before he could stop them. Rose shrank back from him, holding her hands up to defend herself. "I never said you were!" she cried. "Do you think I'd be friends with you if you were anything like he was at our age?!"
"Then what does it matter what your father would think? He need never know, and besides, you've clearly shown that you don't really care what he thinks. You made that very clear the moment you chose to partner me in our first Charms lesson. He survived that. He even survived me coming over for dinner once, that time when you invited me to help celebrate Al's birthday. So I think he'd survive us sharing one dance at our Sixth Year Christmas Ball. Now, come on, or are you too scared? Too afraid to take a leap of faith? Or are you willing to show some of that Gryffindor spirit that I know is in there somewhere, that must be in there, given who your parents are, and dance with me?"
Rose hesitated one more second, but when Scorpius gently tugged the book out of her arms, laying it on the table she was leaning against and held out his hand to her, she couldn't resist. Trying not to show just how much she was trembling, she took his hand and let him sweep her out on to the dance floor with him.
They made a pretty picture, the two of them. Her fiery red hair gleamed against the silk of his cream dress robes as he spun her out under his arm and his ivory skin was the perfect foil to her own darker complexion. No wonder then, that everyone they passed couldn't help but pause, just for a second, to watch them.
Which meant, naturally, that it was only a matter of time before the whispers started.
"Isn't that Rose Weasley? With Scorpius Malfoy? What in Merlin's name are they doing dancing together? Doesn't Rose know her family will kill her for this?"
Rose heard them, but to her surprise, she found she didn't care. She was feeling far too nice, too happy, whirling round in Scorpius's arms the way she was, to care about anything else. Beaming widely, she closed her eyes, just briefly, and let him and the music guide her.
(And if she – just for an instant – let herself imagine that this was what dancing with him at their wedding would be like, then she kept that to herself)