Three weeks later, I was very surprised at how much I had changed since I started my weekly visits with Dr. Renolds. I no longer felt the urge to create lists for when I awoke the next morning and dad and I had de-labeled everything in my room. Mum even started mixing the colors in my overly organized closet; I even offered to help her! I no longer felt like I needed perfect order and I even welcomed chaos. Dr. Renolds had even gave me advice for dealing with Malfoy. "Kill him with kindness," he had told me. It actually worked too, now when he talked to me, I didn't let it get to me and I was as nice as Granny Weasley was to Uncle Harry. He sure shut up after that, whether from the shock of me being nice or finally giving up I didn't Know, nor did I care.
Take today for example. The Potters had once again joined us for lunch and Scorpius once again was with Albus. I was quick to escape from my over-bearing family and the annoying friend by sliding on to a tree branch hanging low in our backyard with a Muggle book my mum had gotten me. As per usual, I had lost myself in the tale of a different world with no color and only one person with the memories of the past's mistakes so much that I didn't even bother to push back the curls of red hair that had fallen in my face. I read between the loose locks for a few minutes before I jumped as a pale hand moved them gently behind my ear, leaving behind tingles and causing goose bumps to rise on my neck.
"Bloody-" I stopped mid-sentence as I looked over to find a smirking Scorpius sitting next to me on the branch.
"Quite romantic up here, don't you think?" He asked, attempting to sound charming.
"Peaceful, yes. Romantic, not with you up here." I snapped at him before returning to my book. I could pretend to be nice to him while cooking or playing Quidditch or even playing Wizarding Chess, but when someone disrupts my reading, I make a Basilisk look like a cute puppy.
Out of my peripheral vision I saw Scorpius place a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "Easy, easy, didn't mean to upset you, Rosie."
"Didn't mean to? Do you ever mean to?" I rounded on him, my blue eyes igniting with my pent up fury towards this git. "No, you don't because everything you say to me is hollow, fake, meaningless, and cliché! I'm not one of your fangirls who you can woo just by winking at them! You've flirted with me for a year now and I doubt you know a single thing about me!"
I saw hurt flash in Scorpius's eyes before he became enraged as well. "I do too!"
"Oh, yeah? What's my favorite color?" I huffed, blowing another loose lock of hair out of my face.
"Uh," His mouth opened and closed but he couldn't answer. "Pink?" He asked in a last ditch effort.
"Exactly. You are pursuing a girl you know nothing about. Maybe you should treat me like homework and know your facts before you attempt anything." I narrowed my eyes at him harshly, putting my bookmark in my book a bit to forcefully and sliding off of the tree limb.
"Maybe I will!" He countered as he hopped out of the tree as well.
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
I stormed past him and into the house, ignoring my dad's questions about what had gotten my knickers in a twist, and slammed the door closed to my bedroom. My heart was hammering in my chest as I leaned against my light purple door to steady myself. Breath, Rose, breath. My hand reached up to grasp a piece of my hair. He was so close to me. But he wasn't sincere, I had to remember that. Malfoys were nothing but players. This queasy, crushy feeling was just because he was cute, I truly hated him and my feelings were just because of his looks and his brains.
That was it, I assured myself that was the reason behind the burning of my cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach. It was logical too. Malfoy was undeniably cute with his bed-head styled platinum hair and piercing, brilliant grey eyes, and he and I were tied in every one of our classes that we shared. As a Ravenclaw, I was attacked to smarts so it was quite understandable.
With shaking hands-why on earth were they shaking?- I walked to my wrought iron desk, put up my book, and took out a thick, leather bound journal. Dr. Renolds told me that whenever I noticed my counting to write it in here. I had counted this time. I knew when I had started it as well. It was like a second voice in the back of my head, but instead of whispering like usual, it was screaming at me during my confrontation.
Eight minutes, thirty-five seconds. A fight with the prat, Scorpius Malfoy.