(( I had originally began writing this story with no direction in mind, and after posting the starter on another site and asking people to apply for characters, it turned into a pretty intricate storyline. This is directly copied and pasted from the other site. Please understand, however, that I did NOT edit any of these chapters, and wrote this story entirely for pleasure. I don't really care if there's an error in spelling or grammar. All that matters is the story is linear enough for it to make sense, and you enjoy what you read. If you have any serious concerns with the story, PM me. Otherwise, READ AND REVIEW POR FAVOR, MY LOVELIES. ))
Disclaimer: I do not own the following characters: Garrett Hawke, Michele Blanchard, KC McFearson. It has come to my attention that Garrett Hawke may or may not be a character from another fandom. I did not know this when I wrote the story – it was simply a part someone auditioned for. If this confuses people/hinders the story, I may change his name in later chapters. I was given descriptions of personality/looks/name/age/etc for each of these three characters, but all the writing that involves them is my own.
Chapter Four:
"Beauty is a fragile gift." - Ovid
Albus Potter had not meant to lie to one of his best mates, but he had begun doing things lately that he was not accustomed to. After he bid Scorpius goodnight, the black haired Slytherin confined himself behind the drawn curtains of his four poster, sneaking a hand under his pillow to retrieve something he had kept secret from Scorpius earlier.
A book; it was leather bound, with a title delicately carved into its fabric, and a strange marking on the front. Glancing up one last time to survey the slow moving shadows through the lens of his bed curtains, Al held his breath in silence, wanting to be sure no one else was awake.
He was met with the same quietness, so he relaxed and opened the book to the third chapter, where he had stopped reading when Scorpius caught him earlier.
"The Second War was not a pleasant time for the magical community. They turned on themselves, often sabotaging their only roads to hope. One young man remained strong in the face of a collapsing regime, and that young man was Harry James Potter. The Daily Prophet had once referred to him as, 'Undesirable No. 1', among many other unflattering names that were meant to belittle his importance. The truth emerged some years later that the former Dark Lord, Voldemort, was behind this slanderous campaign."
Albus stopped reading, slamming the book shut with an aggravated sigh.
His father, the great Harry Potter, rarely liked to talk about his schooldays; Al spent most of his childhood in awe of the man – or perhaps it was the legend – but his father did little to feed that admiration. He would often downplay his accomplishments, adamantly repeating to his son that it was mostly luck that helped him. He wanted his son to stay away from literature about the War, and although his eldest, James, was content with following orders, Al wanted to know more. There was a thirst in him.
The more he discovered, however, a bitterness began to grow beneath his chest, like a sleeping monster. How could the wizarding world have been so cruel to my dad? Albus thought as he sat on his bed, staring at the closed cover of the book. He saved them all, he protected them, he would have sacrificed himself for everyone. They were so horrible to you, dad.
He closed his eyes, reflexively putting a hand to his face, holding the bridge of his nose with this thumb and index finger. These thoughts had plagued him every night for the past two weeks, and the more he read the less sleep he managed. Suddenly Albus emitted a low growl, tightening his grip on the book before tossing it across his bed. It flew through the curtains, landing on what he presumed to be his trunk with a careless thud.
His mother, Ginny Potter, had warned him once about how dangerous a simple book could be, so Albus resolved to put the literature out of his head, and never read the book again. Surrendering to a restless sleep, he tucked himself under the sheets and tossed and turned until the dawn came.
An hour after Albus had fallen asleep, a certain blond haired Slytherin snuck back in to bed, muttering to himself as he collected the sheets around his tall, lean body, and having a dispute with his pillows as he fluffed them aggressively.
Morning came surprisingly quick to Rose Weasley as she rolled over in her bed, suddenly hitting the ground with a thud. Sitting up quickly, she put a hand to her head and groaned.
Somewhere from behind her drawn curtains, a cheery voice interrupted her rude awakening.
"Rose – Rosie," the voice paused to laugh, "was that you?"
"Yes," she called back sheepishly, recognizing the voice to be one of her good mates, Michele Blanchard. "Misjudged the distance. Sleepy." She explained herself in short, tired sounding sentences. Stifling a yawn as she stood, Rose pulled back the curtains, squinting as she did so.
"Why is it so bloody bright in here, every morning?"
"It's not even breakfast and you're complaining already," Michele gave Rose a pointed look, now clearly visible as she sat on her bed, fully dressed with her hair tied back.
A few of the other girls spoke in hushed tones, casting uncomfortable side-glances at Michele as they did so, to which Rose responded by picking up her slipper and hurling it at the cluster of dark haired Gryffindors. "Oi!" Rose shouted at them, "we're not bloody deaf! We can still hear a whisper!"
The girls jumped, certainly not looking to start a problem with Rose Weasley (a problem with Rose meant a problem with Albus and Scorpius), and ushered themselves out of the Dormitory.
"I don't know why they do that," Rose said angrily, moving to the foot of her bed and opening her trunk. Michele had not said anything yet, and the redhead let her sit in silence. Unlike the rest of their house, Rose understood Michele's abrasiveness; it was not combative, or insulting, but merely a way to filter people out.
Hugo, Rose's younger brother, was a proud owner of this personality trait, so she had a lot of experience handling curt replies and standoffish or sometimes rude comments. Though, she never understood why that was cause to whisper behind Michele's back. Vivane Montague was the biggest gossip in the history of Gryffindor, and yet people were still polite to her. It irked Rose, how horrible the girls would treat Michele, but her friend never seemed to stick up for herself. She fell silent in the face of battle; Rose accredited her disinterest in fighting back to the unimportance of their words.
"Good for you," Rose finally said, having procured a clean uniform for her trunk, "rising above. I'm awful at that sort of thing," she laughed.
Michele blinked, apparently having been thinking about something else the whole time, and she nodded. "Sure, yeah. Hey," the girl stood from her bed, revealing her rather short frame, "are you sitting at our table at lunch today? There's a few things I wanted to show you."
Rose had begun changing, comfortable in the presence of another female as she slid off her nightgown and began fiddling with the zipper of her skirt. Michele's face turned exceedingly red, but Rose did not notice.
"I think it's still a Slytherin day. Sorry, love," Reece gave a noncommittal shrug, offering a roguish grin that mirrored one Scorpius often flashed her.
Michele stood there for a moment, a subtle but still visible crestfallen look on her face as Rose shimmied into her skirt, zipping it up and beginning to button up her blouse. "Yeah, of course. I keep forgetting when you guys alternate." The girl laughed, though she was lying to Rose. "See you in Transfiguration?"
Rose looked up as she finished the last button, now fiddling with her tie. "Of course. I swear, you're going to be the reason I pass that class. Who knew, out of all the subjects, I'd be bloody miserable at transfiguration?" Rose giggled.
"You're not miserable at anything, Rosie." Michele said quietly, though the redhead was too lost in adjusting her tie. Grabbing her bag, she lingered at the door a moment before calling out, "bye!"
"Oh," Rose said quickly, looking up from her now perfectly aligned tie, "yeah, see you!"
She stuck an arm back in her trunk, feeling around until she could find a clean pair of socks, and put them on in a rush. Rose hated being late, and she had overslept this morning.
Why did I oversleep? Rose felt the question emerge, but it was gone before she could grasp it, a forgotten whisper in the wind.
Grabbing her book-bag, Rose slid on her shoes as she walked towards the staircase leading to the Common Room. Standing awkwardly by the fire was Jeremy Wood; he looked up when he heard footfalls, and his face seemed to brighten when he spotted Rose.
Giving him a polite wave, she slung her bag over her shoulder as she reached the foot of the stairs. Jeremy moved from the fireplace to the spot next to her, offering his hand.
"Err," Rose was unsure of what to say, "I have this condition. My palms sweat, all the time," she lied, hoping the lack of femininity would send Jeremy running for someone more suited for him, like Michele.
Suddenly Rose gasped, grabbing onto Jeremy's arm without warning. "I have someone I want you to meet. Be in the Common Room tonight around 8." She nodded her head, holding on to his arm for just a moment to make sure he complied. Jeremy looked confused, but he nodded slowly. "Alright, I'll be here," the boy said, unsure of his words.
"Good boy," Rose grinned, patting his cheek twice before half running for the portrait hole, leaving him still feeling the place on his cheek where her hand just was.
She rushed to the Great Hall, certain that she would find her two favorite boys prepared with an angry rant about her tardiness, but it seemed the two boys were listlessly poking at their food.
"Hey, why so glum?" Rose plopped down across the two boys, greeting them with a cheery grin.
"Oh, Merlin," Scorpius looked up and winced at her happy expression, as though it literally pained him, "who drugged your morning Pumpkin Juice?"
"Who didn't drug yours?" Rose fired back, still grinning.
"Had a good night, did you?" Scorpius finally said back, in a quiet voice. He kept his eyes fixated on the eggs in front of him, which he'd moved around to look like something rather inappropriate.
"I," Rose began, thinking her blond best mate was just inquiring, but she suddenly realized that she could not recall how her night ended; only that she slept soundly, and fell off her bed in the morning. "I fell asleep by the fire," Rose lied, though a sliver of fear was betrayed in her unsure tone. It was entirely possible that she had in fact fallen asleep in the Common Room, but without a memory to accompany the claim Rose felt unsettled lying to her best mates.
It seemed Scorpius shared the sentiment. "Oh, really?" He snorted, slamming his fork down. For a moment he looked as if he were going to storm off, but something overcame his angry features, smoothing them out. Drawing in a breath, Scorpius reemerged with a crooked grin, dropping his fork and sliding his free hand across the table to rest on top of Rose's. "The moon's supposed to be at it's largest tonight. Sneak up to the Astronomy Tower with me to see it?"
"Yeah, of course," Rose said in a slightly skeptical voice. They never had to ask each other to hang out; as a trio of best mates, it was implied. "Al, you're coming too right?" She turned her gaze to him. He had not said a single word yet, and the question seemed to startle him out of a reverie. "Oh, I don't think I can make it. I have plans."
Both Scorpius and Rose were taken aback, letting go of eachother's hands and turning to their friend.
"Plans? Since when do you make plans, Potter?" Scorpius asked mockingly.
"Since I decided to ask KC out." Albus said in a defensive tone.
"You what?" Rose half squealed, knocking over her fork as she reached across the table excitedly to pinch her cousin's cheek. "Al's going to become a man tonight." She waggled her brows.
Scorpius mirrored her enthusiasm, clapping his best friend on the back. "Do you need me to explain anything to you? Because, I'm quite the expert at this sort of thing."
"No, you're not," Albus fired back, clearly annoyed by their reactions. "It's just a date. I haven't even asked her yet."
"You should wait until Hogsmeade weekend," Rose said, finally offering something of value. "It's kind of hard to have a 'date' in the castle."
"Untrue," Scorpius said indignantly.
"Prove me wrong," Rose laughed, finally picking up her fork from the ground and swapping it with the utensil set next to her. She poked at Scorp's eggs, just now noticing their inappropriate shape. "Really?" She giggled.
"Fine, I will."
"Will what, Scorp?" Rose did not look up from his eggs as she asked, still poking at them.
"Prove you wrong. Tonight. You and I are going on a date in the castle."
And with that, he stood up, moved his plate in front of her, and walked off wordlessly.
Rose and Albus looked at each other, and after a moment of silence they both said:
"Bloody Malfoys."
Halfway down the table, another Slytherin named Hawke moved around the food on his plate, leaning just slightly to the left as he overheard the entire conversation between Scorpius, Albus, and Rose. He stood once Scorpius left, leaving an untouched plate of food and walking towards the Entrance Hall, passing by Rose as he went. As his arm delicately brushed against her back, Rose spun around quickly, feeling a strangely disconcerting shiver. She spotted his back, and the same reaction that overcame her yesterday happened again. Her pupils dilated, and her mouth hung slightly open. Turning to Al, she clapped a hand over his and whispered excitedly, "who is that?"
To which her cousin replied with a very confused expression.