Truth, Chapter Two

"Hey, Malfoy." Vincent Goyle was nudging Scorpius in the ribs with his elbow whilst reaching across the table to snatch another chicken leg.

"What is it Goyle?" he snapped, his gaze instantly flickering from the brunette at the Gryffindor table to the boy's pudgy, overfed face.

Vincent lifted a sausage-like finger to point at Petunia Parkinson and Christy Chang waving eagerly at him from the end of the table. Some younger girls were clustered shyly behind them. "Looks like you've got a fan club again."

Internally, Scorpius groaned—but for normalcy's sake, he threw the fan girls his signature smirk and resumed his eating, ignoring the sickening faces they were making, oblivious to the fact that a pair of ocean-blue eyes were watching him…

—

Rose Weasley was studying him. She was staring at the Malfoy boy over at the Slytherin table, trying to figure him out. She had been quite disturbed at his assessment earlier in the day—was she really that easy to read? Some of the things he said hadn't even occurred truthful to her until she had played their conversation over and over again as the countryside vanished silently before their averted eyes.

"Your pride. That's a big one. You refuse to find fault in your House, your family, or yourself."

That was true, even though Rose hated to admit it. Especially to anyone but herself.

"It's like you're trying to prove something—to impress someone. Perhaps, fill in your mother's shoes?"

This, of all of his evaluations, was the one that stung her most. Was it childish of her to want to live up her mother's legacy? Was being a normal witch all that bad? For her, Rose supposed, this would be put under her adolescent cry for attention—and it most likely was. She wanted her family to be proud of her, and she was sure just average wasn't enough.

And her anger. Rose never bothered to think rationally in her fury…

Shaking her head, she silently reprimanded herself, sure that these thoughts couldn't be a good sign, and even more so since Malfoy had been the one to bring them to her mind…

She noted that he ate quite a lot, but then told herself that he was a Quidditch-playing boy, and that was expected. She noticed that he sat by Vincent Goyle and Marcus Zabini, though didn't seem particularly close to either—he hadn't attempted conversation once since dinner began, and they likewise, until Goyle pointed out those two airheads, the leaders of his own personal fan club. Ridiculous, she thought, and looked for Malfoy's reaction.

Rose was sure Malfoy would love this attention, considering his egotistical demeanor, but what the girl saw was disgust on his features, and perhaps even a twinge of disappointment?

She snorted. Rose never imagined Scorpius had ever been disappointed at anything. The rogue emotions, however, quickly disappeared behind that unreadable mask of his…

And then he was staring at her again, though it felt like he was staring into her, and it felt like she was burning under his gaze. Blue met grey, and Rose couldn't find the sense to look away until Albus pulled her out of her thoughts.

The connection broke instantly.

"You okay, Rosie?" her cousin and long-time best friend asked, worriedly. He followed her gaze towards the Slytherin table, but Malfoy was already gone.

Her other relatives, including her brother, Hugo, looked at her questioningly.

"Oh, it's nothing," she assured them, clearing her plate and excusing herself from the table, muttering something about clearing her head and the library…

"Hey, is it just me, or is that where Malfoy usually sits?" asked an observant Louis. Rose had already made a mad dash to wherever she was going. Albus looked at his cousin skeptically. Why would Rose be staring at Scorpius Malfoy?

But Lily just gave her male relatives a smug grin, saying, "See what I mean?" in that I-told-you-so voice that her cousins found her using far too much. Then she turned to Dominique and Roxanne, all three chatting animatedly about their cousin's new

"Obsession."

The tips of Hugo's ears were turning a furious shade of red. "I swear, if he did anything to my sister-" he threatened, but Albus patted him on the shoulder, calming him down.

"Relax, coz. It's just Malfoy. Not even worth your time," he said.

Hugo nodded his head silently, but only because whatever he would do to that Malfoy brat if he hurt Rose was too terrible to say…

—

Whenever Scorpius wanted some peace, he went to the library.

It sounded odd, Malfoy being in the library, but he had to admit it was one of his more favorite places in Hogwarts. The Great Hall was too noisy, and the common room was always filled with silly girls—the library was a place of solitude—appreciated by himself and a few silently studying Ravenclaws, a prowling Madam Pince…and sometimes, even her. That is, if she wasn't furiously trying to sit as far away as possible from him.

He internally smacked himself for thinking of that Weasley girl—again. So what if images of her kept fluttering behind his lids? So what if that beautiful blue was his new favorite color? (Though if anyone asked, it was sure to be Slytherin green.) So what if he had spent the last half hour thinking up ways he could get her to blush again?

That didn't have to mean anything.

God, he told himself, you sound like a lovesick fool.

Which he was not.

Forget Weasley, he told himself again, (though a small voice claimed it was impossible), there are so many other girls in this school, probably dying to be with you.

But then another voice said, But you don't want another air headed bimbo. She's smart and beautiful and vivacious…

But she hates your guts! a more rational conscience argued. Your families hate each other. It's not worth it.

But the voice was silenced when Rose Weasley walked into the library.

—

Scorpius watched her enter the room, her auburn locks trailing behind her. And then his eyes widened the slightest with disbelief when she sat opposite him.

"Malfoy," she said, emotionlessly. "I was wondering if you'd seen our dormitories yet."

"No I haven't," he's replied just as coolly.

Play the game, he thought.

"I left my stuff in the dungeons."

Rose nodded. "Well I haven't either. I was just wondering because we need to set the password," she said, just as curtly.

Ah. Hand it to Weasley to be considerate.

"I wouldn't trust you to make it something entirely decent."

Scorpius almost chortled. Considerate, indeed.

"Come now, Weasley. Surely you must have some faith in my ability to act decent?"

"None at all," she replied rather seriously.

"Ouch, that hurt." He clutched at his heart as he drawled on mockingly. Rose eyed him suspiciously. Was she actually having a half-decent conversation with Scorpius Malfoy? Scorpius seemed to notice this, and it disturbed him.

"Of course you would be quite the prude. Any new progress on the Wood front?" He said this as if it were doubtful.

He watched somewhat guilty, somewhat smug as Rose's face flushed and she uttered a "None of your business, you prat."

Then, she stormed off.

—

What the hell was that?

Rose didn't understand. Everything about that stupid boy was so damn confusing. What was he? Good or evil? And on how he made her feel…

She wanted to punch him, but then she didn't. She wanted to give him a hug. And giving Malfoy a hug was not something any sane person would do. Ever.

What the hell was she going to do?

—

Way to go, Malfoy, came a sarcastic congratulations from his inner conscience. Real mature, very manly. How long ago was it that you should've given up on childish behavior? Still Third Year, eh?

Shut up! he internally screamed at himself, remembering how stupid he was back then, then realizing how stupid he was acting now. I wasn't thinking! I just can't…ugh! What am I supposed to do, huh? I can't like her! She's Rose Weasley! God, if my father knew I was having this conversation with myself…

Relax, Scorpius. This is what you wanted. She'll stay the hell away from you, you stay away from her. No complicated feelings. You hate her. That's how it's supposed to be. Rivals. Mortal enemies…

…Possible Love Interests.

"Ugh! I cannot believe I'm thinking these thoughts!"

Scorpius realized too late that he had actually shouted this out loud, causing a couple of first years to scurry away from him, and some fourth years to cackle maniacally as they passed. He almost flushed with his embarrassment and hung his head, but then realized those were things he simply did not do. Meanwhile, his internal battle continued.

Face it, Malfoy, the voice continued. There is no way she is staying out of your thoughts. At least not for long.

Then what do can you do about it? Nothing! She hates your guts! She always has, and always will. A Malfoy and a Weasley can never be anything more than enemies.

Shut up! Scorpius interjected when the squabble became harder to follow. I just…I just need some time to think! So bugger off!

The voices sneered, if that were possible. What do you think you've been doing?

Becoming more and more frustrated, Scorpius headed to the infirmary, wondering if Pomfrey had anything for insufferable headaches…

—

Scorpius found Rose standing by their dormitory tapping her foot and waiting impatiently.

"Took you long enough," she huffed, then uttered the password. "Hogwarts, A History."

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Are you serious? Our password is a bloody book?"

"Yes," she answered rather smugly. "You took too long to get here, I just decided on a password myself. So deal with it." And with that, she entered the portrait hole, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Scorpius shook his head, entering their shared common room. It was decorated in their house colors—emerald green and red-ruby scarlet—some comfortable looking chairs sat by a blazing fireplace. He stretched out on the sofa, suddenly noticing an envelope addressed to him lying on the coffee table.

Mr. Scorpius Malfoy,

Since you have accepted your position as Head Boy, I have written to inform you of your duties as a Head. You will be responsible for completing patrols with your co-Head, Rose Weasley.

(Scorpius groaned, but continued reading.)

Patrols will be completed nightly from 9 PM to 11 PM. Because of certain events occurring last term, and also the possibility (and inevitability) of an encounter with Peeves, it is imperative that patrols are performed by two people at once. You must remain with your co-Head for the entire two hour time period. No excuses. No exceptions.

(Curse those nightly pranksters! Whoever they were…)

You and Ms. Weasley will also be in charge of coordinating, planning, and executing major school events, which can include but are not limited to: all-school gatherings such as balls, concerts, and school fairs. The deadline for your idea is due the first of October.

With regards,

Minerva McGonagall

Scorpius wanted to scream. How was he supposed to stay the hell away from Weasley if it was impossible? They lived together for Christ's sake. Consumed with these furious thoughts, he barely noticed another envelope on the table, addressed to Rose.

Half-surprised by his actions, he was soon knocking on Rose's door.

"Weasley," he said, knocking, "there's a letter addressed to you…" His knock remained unanswered, but trying the doorknob, he found that it was unlocked. He opened it, just as Rose decided to enter the room, towel-drying her hair.

"Holy sh—" Malfoy stumbled out of the room as fast as possible, nearly tripping over a dozen things, and rushed to his own dormitory, locking the door behind him.

Gasping and panting, he slumped against the wall, his face covered in sweat.

Bloody hell. I just saw Weasley—

"MALFOY!"

Crap.