Chapter Two
Challenge: OTP Boot Camp Challenge, HPFC
OTP: Rose/Scorpius
Writing style: Drabble
Fascinated
Little Fleur Nymphadora Lupin is fascinated by her Aunt Rose's wedding dress.
Floaty and white, to Fleur Nymphadora, she looks like a beautiful redheaded princess fit only to marry the handsome blond prince waiting conveniently at the altar.
Fear
He doesn't fear anything, really. Not when she's with him- with her red-headed ferocity and blue-eyed innocence, he could take on anything in the world.
Anything, that is, except spiders.
Hatred
He knows her likes and dislikes.
She likes the colour yellow, that's her favourite along with red. She likes chocolate- every kind from white to seventy-percent cocoa. Her favourite smell in the whole wide world is the scent of the rain on soil. She likes the taste of cold milk and slightly raw bananas. She likes her Firebolt with a passion bordering on the obscene. She likes curling up by a large window, with a book to keep her company- especially on windy, stormy days.
But nothing compares to her love for her ink- she reads and she writes and that's when her eyes light up with magic.
She dislikes wearing the colour pink- all shades from baby to hot. She dislikes finding her eye pencil unsharpened and then having to use kohl instead. She dislikes aubergines in any way, shape or form. She dislikes scoring lower than him on anything- be it a Potions test or a quiz from Witch Weekly. She dislikes humid, sunny days- when the sweat trickles down her back and drenches her fiery red locks.
He also knows very well, that nothing compares to her hatred for being lied to. That and her cousin Molly's black stilettoes.
Helpless
He wasn't expecting it, really, he wasn't. In fact, he'd though that he'd have to finally come out, gather up all his courage and ask her. And not the other way 'round.
He'd been shocked out of his wits when she'd asked him, and his knee-jerk reaction was to ask, 'As best friends or…'
He needed to know. Well, he'd thought he'd wanted to know the answer at any rate. But seeing the surprise and hesitation in her eyes, he's not so sure now.
When it comes to her-Merlin… He's helpless
Indifference
The indifference is getting to them
His parents smiled and Astoria went so far as to give her a hug and whisper, 'I hope he's realised- you're a keeper.'
Her parents welcomed them into the Burrow with as much pomp and celebration as a new pair of socks. Not the usual Weasley tradition. Ron shocked everyone by being the first to shake hands with him and murmur, 'I hope you know how lucky you are, and exactly what you've gotten yourself into.'
They smile at each other, uncertain, blue eyes meeting silver-grey. They'd expected… some temper tantrums as the very least.
Silence is Golden
He's always known, subconsciously, that she would be the one to steal his heart. So he's not surprised the day he consciously realises it.
He's always noticed her flowing red curls- the way they seemed to have a life of their own. He's not surprised when he turns his love for her into a hard, hungry gaze under which she blushes and hides behind a fiery red curtain.
He's always loved staring into her blue eyes- so clear and calm, never icy. He wishes he could see the emotions flit through those crystal orbs when he tells her he loves her.
But he's decided that when it comes to loving her- silence is golden.
Jagged
There's an aged piece of parchment in the Head's Common Room- stiff and yellow with the years, jagged edges, musty fragrance. Most definitely moth eaten. No one's ever found it before, not since it was planted. But for those who care to look, it is hidden in plain sight.
It was James Potter and Lily Evans who'd first discovered exactly how, err… visually challenged people could be- especially when it came to their nemeses, one-time tormentors or best friends. They'd also noted that, coincidentally, it was these oblivious duos that ended up being the Heads.
For some odd reason, more often than not, they'd end up married. Happily. With children.
Scorpius is the one who finds it, and screaming like a frightened child, draws Rose out of her peaceful slumber. Speechless and shocked out of his wits (which is a shock in itself) he shoves the parchment into Rose's hands.
She looks at it, her clear blue eyes scanning through the words, immediately searching for loopholes. Finding none, she sighs- not really disappointed.
'Well, Score- all you have to do now is propose. Good night.'
With that she turns and floats back to her room, leaving a very confused, very nervous Malfoy behind her.
Jubilant
She's not going to act surprised, because she had truly seen this coming. Had she not been so contemptuous of Divination, she might have thought that her Inner Eye had shown her the future- and this was merely an actualization.
And so, when he finally decides that he has the courage to ask her, she smiles and nods and says 'Obviously, you idiot. I thought I'd have to ask.'
He's only jubilant that he didn't have to resort to blackmail to get her to fly around Europe with him on a broomstick.
Kindly
Dear Scorpius,
I shall cut to the proverbial chase without beating around the proverbial bush.
You have been so much to me over the years.
A nobody in the First Year. A rival in Second and Third. A friend- a best friend, even- in the Fourth, and maybe a bit more. Over the last two years, the 'bit more' has grown into a 'lot more'. But I don't regret it, not am I embarrassed by it. I'm proud, in fact, that I let my heart be stolen by one as wonderful as you.
So you have two options, I won't mince my words- either you man up, sexist as that may be- and admit that you love me too. (You're not fooling anyone with that righteous indignation, so stop blubbering like a fool) Or you could take the easy way out, though I personally don't recommend it- kindly return my heart to me.
Forever yours-
Love,
Rose
Killing
She never thought she'd end up killing for him, but it's a satisfying feeling, as though she's actually accomplished something. Made a stand. She will be hated for this when the news breaks, this inhumane murder of a much-loved public figure. But then she supposes, it's an occupational hazard.
In her defence, the man had it coming- too handsome, too suave, too perfect. To be honest, she had wanted him dead all along. She knew he'd begin to take over her life. She merely needed an excuse and her darling husband provided it to her.
So, with motive in mind and weapon in hand she ended a life that had come to mean so much to so many.
Her husband smiles at her when she gleefully announces the murder during their anniversary dinner. 'Rose,' he says, 'do you not remember Arthur Conan Doyle? He was in much the same predicament. Do you think it wise?'
Her blue eyes widen as the true meaning of his words hit home.
'Damn,' she swears. 'You had better help me figure out how he survives the Killing Curse.'
He merely smirks.
Author's Note: Wow! It's good to be back- this challenge has got my Rose/Scorpius juices flowing again.
Review please?