Another chapter for you all. This story's turning out to be way more angsty than I'd originally planned, but that always seems to happen with my stories, so I'm not sure why I'm surprised. Anyway, enjoy!
Indifference was hard. Especially when the person you're trying to be indifferent to keeps trying to catch your eye, keeps calling your name from across classrooms or from the other end of corridors, keeps asking people about you, and, worst of all, keeps being herself: the person that you're challenged by, enchanted by, fascinated by, motivated by; the person that you love.
Basically, Scorpius' life had become a living hell, or the closest thing to one he'd ever experienced. With N.E.W.T.s a little less than two months away, he was studying like mad. When he wasn't burried in his books he was on the Quidditch pitch training for Slytherin's last match of the season, which they needed to win if they wanted to have even a hope of winning the cup. However, he might've been able to bear all of the stress if it weren't for the fact that he was spending half of his time trying not to stare at Rose. Scratch that, three-quarters.
Rose wasn't faring much better. She'd been frustrated, angered, and hurt by Scorpius' sudden indifference, and she had no idea what she'd done to cause it. She tried shouting her grades at him in the hopes of getting him to stop and compare, cornering him in their common room, asking Albus to talk to him about her, sitting next to him in classes, and anything else she could think of, but all to no avail. He simply ignored her. He never said anything rude or insulting, he simply didn't say anything at all. He would work next to her in class without showing any type of aversion to her, he'd nod at her if she called his name from across a room or the other side of a corridor, but he'd always find a way to disappear before she could reach him. He answered all direct questions with a simple 'yes' or 'no', and when neither of those applied he simply shrugged, whether it made sense to do so or not.
There was only one thing that Rose had not tried, and as mid-April came and went she knew she had to do it, no matter how much she didn't want to. She didn't like to lose, and she hadn't come this far to be thwarted when she could see her goal, almost touch it. She hoped that maybe he was ignoring her because he was trying to stop himself from being in love with her, as she knew he wouldn't much like the idea, but if that were true she knew she was doing all the right things and that he was bound to crack soon, as not a day went by where she didn't put herself in his sight.
And so, one Saturday evening in late April Rose sat down in their common room at about 7:30 and set out the chess board, set up all of the pieces, and sat herself in front of the black ones. She still remembered that it was his turn to be white.
He didn't arrive until just before 9:00, and she couldn't help but wonder if he'd been out with another girl. She desperately hoped not. She had mixed feelings about him, confusing feelings, but the one, overpowering feeling she always got when she thought of him was possessiveness. He was hers. Her what, she didn't yet know. She didn't know if she was in love with him, she didn't know if they were even friends anymore, but what she did know for sure was that he was hers.
When he walked in, he'd been hiding in the Slytherin common room with Al in the hopes of not having to see her, he stopped dead as the portrait hole swung shut. She didn't say anything, but looked him in the eye, and he looked her in the eye for the first time in weeks.
He looked away first, and began to walk towards his room.
He had already passed her when she whispered, without turning to look at him, "Scorpius." She was ashamed that her breath caught.
She could hear him turn around to look at her, but still didn't turn to look at him. "Scorpius," she repeated, more confidently. "Why have you been ignoring me?"
She didn't need to see him to know that he'd shrugged.
"No," she said, standing up and turning around. "No more non-verbal communication. I want words, and not just 'yes' or 'no,' words. I want a legitimate reason. Why aren't you speaking to me. I thought we were good, I thought we were friends, and then suddenly one day you just started ignoring me. You haven't said anything to me in weeks, and don't pretend you haven't noticed me trying to get your attention."
She was becoming more and more frustrated, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She looked unwaveringly into his eyes, daring him to look away.
"It's complicated," he muttered, but this time he did not look away. He wanted to tell her the truth, the whole truth. He owed her that, didn't he? He'd basically dismantled her life for sport. It made him sick.
"Explain it," she said, more calmly, but still with a piercing gaze.
"Rose, I-I'm sorry," he began, still looking directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry for what I've been doing this year."
Her eyebrows shot up. Whatever she'd been expecting it certainly hadn't been that. What the hell was he talking about? She waited for him to continue.
He took a deep breath, summoning the willpower he'd need to be honest with her. "I've been-" He closed his eyes, as if by not looking at her she'd disappear and not hear his words. "I've been playing you."
He heard her breath catch, but did not open his eyes as he continued. "It wasn't right of me, but when I still hated you I thought it was okay. It seemed like a good game, to see if you'd fall in love with me, and I know it was wrong, and I wish I hadn't done it because, Rose, I-" He opened his eyes to look at her, and saw the tears welling up in her eyes. He hated himself more and more with each one he saw cascade down her cheeks. "I care about you. I didn't think that I would, but I do. I've been trying to fight it all year, but I can't anymore. Rose, I'm telling you this because I don't want to lie anymore, and I'm not going to lie anymore. I really do care about you."
Rose's head was spinning. Everything she'd thought had been a sign that he loved her was really him just pretending to love her to get her to love him. And she'd fallen for it. She realized in that instant, as she looked at him, her heart breaking, that she'd fallen for him. She'd assumed that he loved her, never imagining that he was playing a game, that he was playing her, and she'd let herself get too involved. She'd gotten too involved in her own game, and she'd played right into his hands. Her fists clenched at her sides subconsciously, her nails digging into her palms, drawing blood. She was shaking with anger, and she embraced it, knowing full well that when the anger was gone the only thing left would be pain.
"No you don't," she whispered, more to herself than to him. How could he possibly expect her to believe that he cared.
She looked around for something, anything, and, before she realized what she'd done, she'd thrown the nearest thing, a picture frame, across the room. It shattered and glass flew everywhere. Scorpius' eyes widened as he looked at the broken pieces on the floor, inches from him, and he didn't look up until he heard her door slam.
He crouched down and reached for the picture, cutting his finger as he extracted it from the broken glass. It'd been taken while they were at the Burrow over Christmas. It was of he, Albus, James, and Rose, all with their brooms, mud all over their faces. He and Rose had found themselves next to each other for the picture, and occastionally he would reach over and wipe some mud off of her cheek, but neither said anything to each other. Even the picture knew that the only talked over the chess board.
He glanced at the board where it sat, unassuming on the table, all of the pieces in their places. It had been a gesture, and a big one, and he'd broken her heart. Of course, what else could he have expected. He'd used her in the worst way possible, and now he had to live with the consequences. That was why he didn't tell her about the bet. He didn't want her to know that her own family had been in on it, that her own cousin had forced this type of pain on her. He also wanted to bear the blame because it was his to bear. Mentioning the bet would only make her turn her anger to James, and he deserved all of it, he knew that now. Never once, as he stood looking blankly at the chess board, the picture still in his hand, did it occur to him that he'd now lost the bet. It didn't matter to him anymore because this bet had cost him more than he'd known he had. It had cost him her.
Of course, he had no proof that she loved him, as she hadn't said it, but he'd seen the hurt behind her eyes. Even if she didn't love him, she'd cared about him, trusted him. And he'd betrayed that trust, betrayed her.
Slowly, he took out his wand and flicked it, causing the broken pieces of frame to vanish from the floor. He left the chess board where it sat and went into his room, keeping the picture. It rested on his bedside table as he slept.
Rose awoke on Sunday with dried tear tracks still on her face, her mascara still blurry around her eyes. As her anger had given way to pain she'd cried herself to sleep, but it was as if her brain had been working throughout the night, and she awoke with a new clarity of thought, but it didn't make her feel much better.
She realized that this was her own fault, and no one else's. After all, she, who'd known all along what type of guy Scorpius was, had lowered her defenses and opened herself to him. She'd done no better than he had by taking the bet with James, only worse, she'd failed and he'd succeeded, yet another competition he could beat her at, and he hadn't even known he was competing. And, to top it all off, he'd had the ultimate satisfaction; he'd seen her at her lowest, throwing a picture frame at him, tears streaming down her face, too pained to even draw her wand. He'd seen her at her weakest, and he kenw that he had the power to bring her there.
She glanced at the clock: 10:00. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep when Clarice burst into the room like a rocket, the door slamming behind her. She took one look at Rose, curled up in a ball on her side, hugging her knees to her chest, her face and hair a mess, her eyes red, and ran over.
"What happened?" Clarice asked, sitting down on the bed as Rose sat up, rather unwillingly, "When you and Scorpius hadn't turned up to breakfast-"
"He's not down there?" Rose cut her off. "I assumed he'd be gloating and spreading the news of his victory far and wide."
"What?" Clarice asked, her brow furrowed.
"I got played," Rose whispered lifelessly, looking down at her hands. "All this time I thought I was calling the shots and had it totally under control, and he played me."
"Oh God," Clarice whispered. Scorpius must have told Rose about the bet. She wasn't sure what to do, so she decided to find out exactly what had happened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean all year he's been pretending to fall in love with me to try and make me fall in love with him, all for sport! For some sick game he invented for himself!"
Clarice became more puzzled than ever. He hadn't told Rose about the bet?
"And then," Rose continued scathingly, "He tried to get me to believe some bull-shit about him caring about me and that he was telling me the truth because he cared. As if he wasn't enjoying watching me crash and burn all because of him."
"This doesn't make any sense," Clarice muttered, more to herself than to Rose.
"What do you mean? Of course it does! All this time I thought I was changing him but really he was just pretending to fall in love with me so that I'd fall for him and it-it worked." Her voice broke and more tears came to her eyes. She continued in a whisper, "I feel so stupid. I should've known not to trust him, but I thought...Can you just leave me alone, please?"
Clarice nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. The moment she'd closed the door she sprinted to the end of the common room and wrentched open the portrait hole, letting in slam behind her as she ran, full speed, for the dungeons.
She got lucky, Al was just coming out when she arrived, panting.
"Clarice, what-"
"You have to come now!" she said between breaths, "To the Heads' Common Room. It's important."
And she led him back up the stairs, explaining everything she knew as she went.
When they reached the portrait of the girl in the field Albus began, "But, how will we get-"
"Moonstone," she said to the girl, who nodded and swung open obligingly.
"How do you know the password?"
"Rose," Clarice shrugged, before pushing Albus into the room and pulling the portrait closed.
"What exactly do you want me to do?" Albus asked as Clarice pushed him towards Scorpius' door.
"Find out what happened! Find out why he told Rose he was playing her and why he didn't tell her about James and if he loves her!"
"Oh yeah, cause that'll be so easy," Albus said with an eye-roll. "This is Scorpius we're talking about. When he's moping, Merlin help anyone crazy enough to try and talk reasonably to him."
"Just try!"
"Fine, fine," Albus grumbled before opening the door and walking in, closing it softly behind him.
As he'd expected, Scorpius was lying face down on his bed, still wearing his cloths from the day before, and lying on top of the blankets rather than under them.
"What?" Scorpius moaned into his pillow.
"Mate, come on," Albus said, shaking him. "Sit up."
"Ugh, fine," Scorpius groaned, sitting up. He began to reach for the photo on the bedside table, before remembering that Al was there and checking himself, but it was too late.
Al picked up the picture and asked, "Where's this from?"
"I salvaged it from the broken bits of the picture frame she threw at me," Scorpius answered lifelessly.
"She threw a picture frame at you?" Albus asked incredulously. Clarice had neglected to mention that.
"Could've been worse," Scorpius said in a monotone. In all honesty, her tears had hurt him far more than the picture frame would've if it had actually hit him.
"Why'd you tell her?" Albus asked after a moment of silence. Scorpius had asked him to keep out of it for a while, and he'd listened, hoping Scorpius would confess his love for Rose in due time, but now he was wishing he'd stayed more involved.
"Because I owed it to her. I owed her the truth. The way she was looking at me, the hurt behind her eyes when I ignored her, she deserved the truth."
"If she deserved the truth then why didn't you tell her about the bet?"
"Because it's not important, not really. I don't want her to blame James or you or anyone but me because it's my fault. Bet or no bet, I played her, and it was wrong." Scorpius closed his eyes for a moment before continuing, "How'd you find out."
"Clarice. She saw Rose this morning."
"How is she?" Scorpius asked before he could stop himself.
Albus told the truth, "A wreck. Do you regret telling her. Wouldn't it have been better to have kept ignoring her until she got over you and then continued to be friends."
Scorpius thought seriously before giving his answer. "No."
"We need to talk," Albus said as he sat down beside Clarice at the Ravenclaw table that afternoon at lunch, getting several looks from the startled Ravenclaws he'd pushed aside. He cut her off before she could protest, "I know we agreed never to compare notes about the bet because that would be betraying our respective 'side' or whatever, but this is different."
"I've been thinking the same," Clarice acknowledged. "Rose still hasn't left her room."
"Neither has Scorpius. I'm seriously worried about him."
"Why was he ignoring her for all these weeks if he was only going to tell her about the bet, and more importantly why did he tell her?"
"He wanted to give her a chance to get over him because he actually cares about her now, I'm not gonna say he loves her, but he definitely fancies her, and he cares more about her than about most girls he's ever dated, and he felt guilty, so he tried to back off. And then, I guess, the guilt was too much for him to take and it just kinda slipped out...And he didn't tell her about the bet because he doesn't want her to blame James and I, but-"
"But that's a problem because if he'd told her she would've put two and two together and told him about the bet, but because he didn't tell her she was too hurt to realize at first that she'd been doing the same thing and that she should tell him the truth. And now-"
"And now they'll never speak to each other again and he'll never know that she was using him but-"
"But once he finds out he'll think that she doesn't love him and she already thinks that so basically-"
"We're screwed."
"Exactly," Clarice finished, slightly out of breath.
"Well," Albus said, "There's only one thing for it. We need to write James."
Alright, so it's all out in the open...well, kind of. Please continue reviewing, it helps so much.
XOXO
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