Chapter Seven

You Don't Have to Thank Me

"You will never know love unless you surrender to it."
~Fools Rush In


The first thing I noticed when I came to was the iodine-like smell of the hospital wing. The next was that I ached everywhere. There was something warm on my left side, and my left hand was wrapped in something soft and tickly. I opened my eyes.

I was definitely in the hospital wing. Though the bright light of early morning nearly blinded me, I could see the dark rafters of the ceiling. There was a soft snoring from my left and I looked around to see none other than Scorpius Malfoy sleeping with his head on my bed.

Reeling in shock and panic, I racked my brains to try and remember what happened to land me in the hospital wing, and why Scorpius was here, but I could not remember anything. It sent me into even more shock when I realized that the thing my hand was wrapped in was Scorpius's hair. Oh shit.

Though I didn't know at all what had happened, why he and I were here, I couldn't help but notice how cute he was asleep. He didn't snore loudly, but it was a soft, reassuring kind of snore. There were crease lines on his forehead and dark shadows under his eyes, but he looked peaceful, none the less.

Cautiously, not wanting to wake him up and get caught, I untangled my hand from his hair and began to slowly run my fingers through it. It was addicting. Soft, thick, and curly blonde, he had such great hair. Little jolts of electricity ran up my fingers every time I touched his scalp. I remembered when we had kissed my hands had automatically shot to his hair. It was like a magnet.

I hesitated for half a second, and then moved my fingers down to his cheek. It was prickly with stubble. It looked like he hadn't shaved in at least two days. I wondered if he had been here with me the whole time.

My heart soared with affection.

Again I tried to remember what had happened. The only thing that came back to me was the beginning of the party. Slughorn's party. That's right. And then what happened . . .

The party got rowdy. I had drank more than a couple of firewhiskeys. . .

And then nothing. It was like I had hit a brick wall in my mind. There was literally nothing there.

Sighing, I turned back to Scorpius. I started to withdraw my hand from his cheek, but his face twitched in protest and his hand shot out to grasp mine. He laid our joined hands on the bed and went back to snoring. I sighed. His hand felt wonderful in mine. Dammit.

"Oh, Scorpius," I whispered, stroking his hand with my thumb. "We just seem to be digging a deeper hole, don't we?"

But maybe it was time to stop resisting.

No. Not yet.

I knew it was going to happen, we were both going to give into each other eventually, but I wasn't ready for it. But really, would I ever be? The consequences of us becoming a couple were too horrible to think about.

But if he kept on, the positives might outweigh the negatives.

How did everything get so messed up? It used to be so simple. I hated him, he hated me. It was easy. I beat him at everything, and he tried to keep up, we played Quidditch, and I beat him at that too. And then we had to go and fall in love with each other. Everything was much, much too complicated.

I reached over with my other hand and ran it through his hair. He stirred a little bit and I froze, terrified he would wake up. But it was too late. His eyes fluttered open and his eyes, which looked like bright diamonds, met mine. They crinkled as he smiled. He looked very relieved.

"You're awake," he grinned. I nodded.

"How long have I been out?" I questioned. "And what are you doing here? What happened?"

His smile faltered, and he noticed our hands. He blushed and we both pulled back at the same time. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.

"Well, to answer your first question, you've been out for a day."

"A day?" I groaned. It was a good thing that it was the weekend, or I would have missed classes. "What the hellhappened?"

Now he was really frowning. He was thinking, troubled. Whatever happened must have been bad. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"You don't remember?" he asked.

"No," I replied. Was that a look of relief on his face?

"You took a potion," he said. "And it wasn't meant for your health."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that it was a mind-altering potion, and too much of it. It was illegal. What it was doing at a school party . . . I don't know why you took it, and I don't know who gave it to you, but if I did, they would be dead."

There was such a fierce, angry, protective look in his eyes that I didn't doubt it. I felt my eyes well up. Why was I crying?

"Oh, Scorpius . . ."

He looked at me, and the murderous anger died and was replaced with a very soft look. Gently he took my hand, almost, it seemed, without noticing it. I did not draw away, and the tears I had been fighting back spilled from my eyes. He gave my hand a squeeze. I turned my head away from him and wiped my eyes. He did not speak, giving me time to compose myself.

"So why are you here?" I finally whispered.

"Because I'm the one who found you. I was worried sick about you. You had technically been dead for two minutes, before I got you up here and Madam Pomfrey saved your life."

I sat in shock. I had been dead? And he couldn't mention this before? I had almost dismissed what he said before, because I had been dead?

"But you're awake now, and alive, and you're going to be okay. That's all that matters."

Was it just me, or did he look like he was hiding something? There was something forced in his smile.

"You're hiding something," I said. "What else happened?"

His smile faltered. "Nothing."

"You're lying."

He hung his head, letting go of my hand and rubbing his face.

"You don't want to know," he whispered, his voice full of anguish. "I don't want you to know."

"I think I have a right to know!" I said resentfully.

"Dammit Rose!" he raised his head, and looked at me with piercing eyes. "I'm trying to protect you!"

"From what?" I said scathingly.

"From yourself!"

There was a stunned silence. I blinked furiously, trying to work out what he said.

"Why would you protect me from myself?" I asked, confused.

"Because you did things . . ." he whispered, and he was no longer looking at me, and I could tell he was a long way away. "Things I don't want you to know you did. I was the only one that was there, and the only person who can be embarrassed or ashamed is me."

"What did you do?" I said, prodding, knowing I would get him to tell me eventually with honey instead of vinegar.

"I stopped you," he muttered, massaging his temples. "Stopped you from doing something we would both regret."

I gasped. I had finally understood what he was saying.

"What . . . what did I do to you?" I asked, horrified.

He looked up at me, and looked scared. Scared. That was never good.

"You . . . you kissed me," he seemed unwilling to go on.

"And?" I prodded.

"And . . . and you told me you wanted me. And proved it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you were crawling all over me. Do you want details?"

Yes, yes I very much wanted details. Didn't he understand what a big deal this was? If I had done something less than ladylike, I wanted to know about it, dammit!

He seemed to guess what I was thinking, because he opened his mouth before I could respond.

"We didn't do it," he said shortly, "if that's what you're wanting to know. The worst that happened was you undid my pants."

I digested this for a second.

"I came very, very close to losing control," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too close. You have no idea the hold you have over me."

My heart exploded in flutters, and a hard lump rose in my throat. I felt tears spring to my eyes again.

"Scorp," I whispered, sitting up. I placed a hand under his chin, making him look up at me. Our eyes met and I felt spellbound. "Scorp . . ." It was very clear to me just how guilty he felt. I felt terrible for causing this. He had saved me, saved my life, even though I had ignored him for the past month. He didn't deserve my horrible treatment of him.

My other hand found its way to his hair. He closed his eyes, and I felt my heart melt. I stroked his hair, and lowered my face to his, resting my forehead on his. I did not kiss him. He didn't want or need me to kiss him. All he needed was my love, whether he knew I loved him or not. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he sighed. He smiled slightly, so I knew that sigh was of happiness. No matter how slim, it made me pleased that I had made him smile.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. His eyes snapped open and he looked angry.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, though I felt the danger brewing beneath the surface. I didn't want to fight with him. "It's that bastard who gave you that drink—that's whose fault it is. You're not to blame and don't feel sorry. I can feel guilty enough for both of us."

He had such a fierce look in his eye that I did not dare contradict him. Even though I felt guilty anyway. Oh, dear.

"I feel so, so awful for letting this happen to you." He seemed to be talking to himself again, and was looking down, not at me, even though our faces were an inch apart. "I knew . . . I knew something was wrong . . . and I ignored it . . . I should have been there . . . how I could have let this happen . . ."

I did not know what to say. It was so cute, the way he fretted over me.

"Scorpius?" I said softly. He looked me in the eyes again and his hands tightened on my head, like he didn't want to let me go. "Thank you." He blinked and inhaled sharply. It was clear he was not expecting me to say thank you. I smirked. He should know I had better manners than that. "Thank you for saving my life."

His eyes filled with wonder and astonishment. "You don't have to thank me."

"What?"

"It's what I'm here for. To take care of you. Besides," he smiled, like he was joking, though his eyes indicated he was dead serious. It was amazing how I could read him like a book. "It much more selfish than it was selfless. Life wouldn't be worth living without you in it."

My heart skipped a beat. I knew he didn't say it to be romantic or try and make me swoon, but it did. He meant it. He was serious and sincere. He said it because it had slipped out, which, in a way, made it all that more wonderful.

I couldn't help it. It was like I was drawn towards him. He licked his lips in anticipation, his smile had disappeared, his lips parted, his breath short. I kissed him.

This was different than our first kiss, or those kisses that I couldn't remember but could imagine . . . it was soft and gentle, but no less passionate. Neither of us drew away, neither of us wanted to stop. It was the most beautiful, heart-breaking kiss.

And I realized just how much I loved him; how pointless it was to try to resist. Even though I could do it if I wanted, I didn't want to. Life was cold and empty without him. I wanted him, and his actions proved that he wanted—needed—me. It felt so good.

When our lips finally parted to draw breath, we did not break away from each other. He rose from his chair and sat on my bed, and held me. I rested my head on his shoulder, my breath tickling his neck, and his arms wrapped around my waist.

"I don't ever want to lose you again," he whispered. I said nothing, but only buried my face in his neck. "I'm tired of pretending. It's pointless. It's stupid and childish. The only thing that matters is you, and damn the consequences. I love you too much."

I didn't feel the slightest bit of panic at the words. I felt so comforted, so warm, so happy, when he said that. I didn't even feel pressured to say it back. He knew I loved him. But I wanted to tell him anyway. He deserved that much from me.

"I love you, too," I murmured. I raised my head to look at him, and he looked a little surprised, but pleased. So maybe he didn't know I loved him. He needed to know, needed reassurance. I saw that in his eyes. "I love you so much it hurts. I feel the same way you do, only I'm not brave enough, and I don't have the energy, to put it in such fancy words."

The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Was that a joke?"

"Yes, yes it was."

He grinned.

Madam Pomfrey came in to check on me, and, upon finding me awake, immediately started fussing. She had me take three different potions and checked my temperature twice. She listened to my pulse for a minute and shined a very bright light in my eyes with the tip of her wand. Even though she declared I was fit, she made me stay in the hospital wing for another day.

"You need rest!" she declared, shouting down my protests. "And you'll stay right there and take your potions, or I shall call the headmistress."

Scorpius sat in the corner, not supporting me at all and trying to hold back his laughter. I glared at him and flipped him off when Madam Pomfrey had turned her back.

"Mr. Malfoy," the nurse turned to him, which wiped the smirk off his face. "If you're going to stay here, you're going to make yourself useful. Go get Ms. Weasley some food from the kitchens, and I'll need your help with some paperwork when you get back." It was my turn to start laughing.

Madam Pomfrey gathered up the empty potion bottles and bustled back into her office, shutting the door behind her. Scorpius walked back towards me and tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away.

"You've got some nerve," I said jokingly. He smiled a cocky, lopsided grin at me. It was so cute.

I let him kiss me, and he strode down the ward, whistling something that sounded very much like "A-Hunting We Will Go." He turned at the door and saluted, making me giggle, and he smiled at me before shutting the door silently behind him. I had never seen him so happy, and I would be lying if I said it didn't make me feel wonderful, knowing it was me that caused it.

The first of my family to arrive was Albus.
"Why do you look so happy?" was the first thing he asked. No, I didn't even get a 'how are you feeling?' or 'are you alright?' no, it was, 'what the hell do you have to be so friggin' happy about?'

I promised to tell him later, as Hugo, Roxy, and James, and Lily had just walked in. They were happy to see me awake and happy. Though no one knew exactly what had happened besides Scorpius, the rumor was that I had been poisoned at the party. They promised to keep what really happened secret when I told them, especially from our parents, though I knew they would find out anyway, because Madam Pomfrey would tell them.

Of course, I only told them the basics, I did not want to share what Scorpius said I had done to him. That was between us, and us alone. I didn't want my family to know that we were now seeing each other, (if that was what it was,) either. I was too scared and tired to deal with their reactions.

I hadn't seen him since he had brought me my food. I figured he thought it would be best to make himself scarce, and let me be with my family. I was very grateful for this.

My parents arrived sometime later, having received an owl from Madam Pomfrey. My mother worried herself sick, throwing herself on me and kissing me and crying and fussing worse than the school nurse. She sat next to me once my dad told her to calm down, but she still smoothed the blankets, and sat there sniffing.

My dad didn't hug me like mum, in fact, he hung back. When mum had finally moved I saw his eyes, and knew I was in big trouble. Madam Pomfrey must have told them what happened. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him. The tips of his ears were red, like a warning beacon, everyone knew when he was about to blow a gasket.

He was silent for too long, and it scared me. I had expected him to start screaming. This cold silence was more than I could bear.

"D-daddy?" I said tentatively. He grunted, not looking at me. "I-I'm sorry, daddy."

Dad raised his head, and mum looked between us, frightened. The guilt sunk deeper.

"What are you sorry for, honey?" he whispered dangerously. I knew it was rhetorical and so I didn't answer. "Are you sorry for nearly getting yourself killed? For drinking something a stranger gave you, for drinking at all?" His eyes flashed dangerously. I had never seen him so mad, though his voice had been forced calm, it rose in volume and I could tell he was losing control of his cool exterior. My mother put a hand on my leg, warning me not to rise, to just let him get it all out. "Or are you sorry because you've made me feel like the worst parent in the world?"

"You're not—" I started to protest, but my mother threw me a warning look.

"I thought we had raised you better. I thought you were smarter than that."

"Daddy—" I could feel the tears coming but he didn't stop. He laughed humorlessly.

"Or," he continued, staring at my tears and not looking one bit sorry. "Maybe you did this just to spite me. Is this your way of telling me you don't love me? That you don't care? That everything I've taught you doesn't matter one whit to you?"

"Daddy!" I gasped, the tears flowing freely now. "Of course I love . . . how could you say . . . ?"

"I'm disappointed in you."

That stung.

My mother didn't say anything in my defense. She knew I deserved every harsh word he said to me. She still had her hand on my leg, and was gripping it tightly. I knew she was crying. I felt so, so guilty. I wanted to bury my head in my arms, but I didn't want him to think I was weak.

My dad opened his mouth again, but my mother stepped in this time before he could say anything.

"Ron!" she said harshly. "That's enough!"

Dad scowled, and, without another word, without looking at me, he strode from the ward, like Scorpius had that morning, but instead of closing the door softly, he slammed it. I burst into tears and buried my head in my arms. I felt my mothers' embrace, though I did not feel I deserved the comfort she gave me.

"I-I'm s-so s-sorry mum . . ." I sobbed. I felt I had to apologize, had to get rid of some of the guilt. She didn't say anything to me, but continued to rub my back and stroke my hair.

She held me while I cried. It seemed like I had done more crying in the past month than I had ever done in my life. When I had finally hiccupped myself into silence, my mother pulled away from me and tucked my hair behind my ear.

"Oh, Rosie," she whispered. "Why?"

"I d-don't know. I can't remember. I'm so s-sorry, mum."

"Stop that, Rosie. Don't grovel. I forgave you long before you said sorry. I only wish this hadn't happened. If you had been in your right mind I know you never would have taken it, which is why you should never drink in excess. I don't know what you were thinking . . ."

I gulped. I did. I knew perfectly well what I was thinking, and it wasn't of the consequences. I thought that if I had drank enough I could forget Scorpius. But I couldn't tell my mother that.

But she looked at me like she knew.

"I'm glad Scorpius Malfoy was there to save you," I felt my eyes widen and I buried my head in my arms again so she couldn't see my face. But she knew. Mothers always know, even If you don't show all your cards. I didn't know that then, though. I seriously thought I had dodged a bullet. "He seems like a nice young man."

And that was all she said about it. Now I know she was giving me her approval, but back then I didn't have a clue.

We were quiet for a while, me trying to completely dry my eyes, and my mum staring out the window and occasionally patting my back.

"Is dad alright?" I ventured to say after a while. Mum looked around like she had forgotten I was there. She sighed once my question had registered.

"Yes, he'll be alright. He always just needs a bit of alone time after he gets frustrated to cool down. He'll be fine. You scared him, sweetheart. He hasn't had to deal with anything like this since the war."

I felt another twinge of guilt.

"You're his little girl. I know he keeps going over what could have happened, and it terrifies him. He just wants to make sure you never do anything like this again, because he—we—couldn't deal with losing you."

That sounded familiar . . .

"But the good thing is that you're alive, and well, and you're never going to do anything like that again, right?" she suddenly gave me a stern look that reminded me of Professor McGonagall.

I nodded my head. "No, I won't, mum, I promise."

"Good." And she looked satisfied. "Well, if you'll be alright, I'll leave you to get some more rest, while I go find your father before he gets himself into trouble." She kissed me on the temple and gave me a tight hug. "We'll be back later, honey. But you need to get some rest for now."

And she followed the path of Scorpius and her husband, and closed the door softly behind her.


A/N: The plot is thickening, yes? Who gave Rose the drink? Was it on purpose? Is there something bigger going on here than just a little bit of romance? You'll find out, won't you? Hehehe!
Oh, and yes, that "You don't have to thank me" bit, yeah, that was definitely from batman. When I typed it I knew I'd heard it before, and then just recently I watched The Dark Knight again (Heath Ledger as the Joker was so awesome. RIP) and I realized where I'd heard it. And it also gave me some more ideas for this story, so, yay!
Anyway, I'm blathering on a bit too much, so I'll shut up now.
Don't be shy! Post a review!