Chapter 10
In Which The Character Goes Through A Crisis
"Ro...I'm dying." Groans Evelyn as she limply sits down beside me. Dom lifts her head from her hands slightly to glare at Evie and snaps a reply before I can.
"Yeah, well so am I, so just lower the freaking volume, okay Chatterbox?"My cousin spits. Evie, who would normally respond quickly, if not cleverly, just replies with a groan and buries her head in the crook of her arm. I pour her warm-but-not-scaulding black coffee, with a promise it will help, and frown at Dom but she barely notices. If she does then she doesn't care. I don't think she ever cares what people think, even me. Not that it gives her a right to be mean to Evie - or anyone for that matter.
"Chill, Dom. Besides, it serves the two of you right for partying so hard. You should have taken it easy." I sigh, though I'm temped to laugh. Dom stabs her pancakes viciously, glowering at Evie, who is too busy clutching her head and trying not to fall asleep to notice. Her eyes flutter open.
"Well, maybe I wouldn't have been so drunk if you'd met me when you were supposed to, Rosie. I had to use alcohol as compensation for my loneliness." Pouts Evelyn, then turns up her nose at Dom's less-than-lady-like shovelling of her food into her mouth, goes a perculiar shade of green-yellow, and downs her coffee like a pro, though I know for a fact she hates the stuff.
"She's right Rosie - in fact, I don't think I saw you all night. Surely, prefect duty didn't take you that long? If it did then they are working you too hard, you should quit babe." She smirks, deliberately smacking her lips in Evie general direction, before turning to me with a more genuine, though still irritated, smile.
"You did Dom. I got there late, but I was still there. I tried my best to drag you to bed, but you wanted to stay with - and I quote - "Frankie-boy" and he seemed sober enough, so I left you in capable hands. I took Hugo to bed, because he was wasted - tahnks for keeping an eye on him by the way-" I interject accusingly, "- and then I went to bed myself. I was exhausted after all my ... rounds." I stumble over the slight lie, but gather myself quickly. I don't like decieving my friends, my family, but I know exactly how they would react. Evie might have been okay with Malfoy and I having a one-night-stand but she knows we would never be a real, serious thing - she'd been too worried I would get hurt and she would try to do something about it, ruining the whole thing for me. And Dom, well, Dom would think my being loose for once gives her a free pass forever. She'd never settle down, not with Frank, not with anyone. She'd finally have something over me, and though I know she loves me, I also know she'd use it - to hold over me whenever I try to help her live a better life. When I, in her words, am "an overly judgemental excuse for a friend". She may say it with humour, but I know how she really feels. No. No, it's better if they don't know.
"So you didn't have any fun at all last night? Oh poor Ro-Ro." Smiles Evie sympathetically.
"Oh no. I-I wouldn't say no fun." I splutter, blushing slightly at the all too vivid memory of all the fun I did have last night. Such incredible, amazing fun. Like, three times. Both luckily and unluckily for me neither girl sees my sudden blush because Dom chooses that particular moment to tune in to her inner bitch.
"For Merlin's Sake 'Ro-Ro"? What even is that?" She scoffs. Grabbing a plate of waffles this time and drowning them in enough syrup to make even me wince - and I'm not the hungover one.
"Excuse me?" Gapes Evie, freezing, and sitting up alertly. Oh boy.
"Dom..." I scold quietly, not that anyone pays notice.
"Well, come on Evelyn. Her name is Rose, not whatever childish nickname you can cook up. The girl is sixteen, not five - and for that matter, so are you. Why don't you just grow up okay? Most people, we don't really like the baby-thing you've got going so just-"
"DOM!"
"Hey, I'm not sure what kind of people you know Dominique - in fact, I'm pretty sure Ro-Ro is the only friend you have- but my kind of people definitely don't like the slut thing you're rocking. So I think that if you're going to be handing out advice to anyone then maybe you should look in the mirror - maybe you're the one who needs to grow up. Get a boyfriend, get a hobby, join a support group for your Sex Addiction, you slut, I don't care! But why don't you leave me out of it - there's nothing wrong with me." Evie mutters maliciously. I splutter, wordless, as Dominique stands in her overly-dramatic offended way. She dumps her fork onto the table with a clatter, drawing a few eyes that quickly turn away out of feined respect, though their ears perk up - everyone has witnessed a Dominique Weasley temper-tantrum. Nobody wants to miss them. She turns to me, eyes ablaze.
"Are you just going to let her say that to me? Me? Come on, Rose, say something - Defend me! Please!" She's furious and her tone borders on sarcastic, but behind it I can see a vulnerablity - a desperation.
She's right - she's my cousin. And with anyone else, no matter who struck first, my automatic response would be to jump infront of Dom, to take the hits as they fall, to be her human shield, or in this case her sword. But logically, I know I've been in this position before. I've seen her in similar moods, watched her pick a fight with someone totally unassertive until they cracked, and then force me to finish. I don't know why she does it - usually out of things like jealousy, or fear, or a lack of self-confidence no matter what she exudes - and I know she always feels bad after, though we never really bring it up. It's why she starts the fights and I finish them - she can set 'em up, but can't knock them down. Cruelty isn't her first nature. I jump to her aid without thought or hesitation. Normally.
But today is different, and I'm not sure why. Maybe I'm tired. Worn out from all the sex or the heavy load of guilt and shame that accompanys it. Maybe I'm changing into a totally new, utterly heartless person who doesn't care about her own cousin. Maybe I'm just sick of it. Something in me doesn't respond, and I look to Evie, my best friend, whose big hazel eyes stare up at me, shining sadly like a Puppy's. I see in her face that she needs me this time. She needs me to take her side in this, for no more reason than that she is the one in the right. She didn't start anything. Dom is the one who has been snapping at her all morning, all term - for years, if you put it into perspective. And so far Evie has been a perfect saint. Who could really blame her?
I turn my head back to Dom, whose face is flushed and whose eyes have become filled with a doubt that I am just not used to. For the first time, she is doubting her faith in me. And doubting my love for her. I shrug helplessly, knowing the right thing and feeling pain from it.
"I-I'm sorry Dom. I love you, you know that - but... but I can't take your side in this. You started it. You should apologise to Evie and then-" But she's turned on her heel and gone before I've even finished explaining myself, left the Great Hall with such careless an expression a stranger would think it was the happiest day of her life. I'm no stranger.
Evelyn turns to me with a sad, grateful smile, but says nothing, and I am content in the choice that I've made. Dom, at this point, would be mocking her defeated opponent until the cows came home. Evelyn is silent, and I wonder if maybe it's because she knows me better.
I try to change the tone, and subject, of the conversation to one of my choosing - one I am happy with- but she beats me to it. Unfortunately, not onto a subject I enjoy.
"So ... you wanna talk about Malfoy?" She says, a little cheerfullness swelling back into her rich voice. For a second the overwhelming fear that she knows envelops me, but I quickly push it down. She can't possibly. Still, I can't help my shaking voice.
"Wha- What do you mean exactly?" I splutter, rolling my eyes and screwing up my nose as if to seem cavalier. She frowns.
"Well you've been complaining about him less ... I just wondered if he's left you alone since, you know, that night? Like, how have rounds been?" She smiles conversationally, though she's using far less words than she would if she weren't hungover.
"Um. Fine I guess. It's a big castle. I- I rarely see him so..." It couldn't be further from the truth, and the guilt is burrowing deep into my gut. I see more of Scorpius Malfoy than I ever thought I would, maybe on a weekly basis from now on, maybe more. I feel sick, lying to my best friend - and, quite likely, to myself by being okay with the whole sordid situation. Worse, I'm a terible liar - Worst of all, Evie mistakes the tremor in my voice - the pressure of lies against my vocal cords as I push them reluctantly out- for sadness. She thinks her conflict - our conflict- with Dom has upset me. And that upsets her.
She reaches across the table for my hand, her voice warm and softer in undeserved sympathy.
"Oh Ro, I'm so sorry. I-I shouldn't have snapped at her like that. She's your cousin; I should have just kept my trap shut. I mean, it's not like I'm surprised at this point-"
"Evie, No, it's not-"
"No, no - there was no exuse for it. Dominique and I might be very different people ... but I don't want anything to come between us. I have to put it behind me - be the bigger man ... woman ... whatever. I appreciate what you did for me - it can't have been easy, I know how she can get. You should go after her."
Tears start to well up in my eyes at the softness of her voice, and the heaviness in my chest. Merlin, I'm such a horrible person.
I should call it off, the whole thing. Or better yet, ell my best friend all about it. But the worst part, the thing that makes me feel ill inside, is the fact that I know I won't, and for the same reason I won't call it off. If I tell Evie, and he finds out, it's over. And right now, in whatever this hellish, crazy, slutty stage of my life this is, I really need it to not be over. The idea that it would be ... is driving me to do things I never thought I would. Damn him, he's changing me already.
"I-I..." I can't get the words out, to tell her I'm fine - my lack of fine-ness being the cause. The thickness of my throat as it closes, the effort of holding back tears suffocating me. I want to tell her, but I'm about to burst into tear in the Great Hall - great sobbing, shuddring tears and I don't know if I'll stop. This is more than a fight, more than tears of sadness or frustration - I can tell myself I'm fine as long as I want, but I know what this is. A crisis of character, a breakdown ... perhaps a panic attack. I need to get out of hear.
I open my mouth to say one more thing (or at least attempt to) but all my lips do is tremble. Evie touches my cheek gently, before nodding encourigingly. I dart from my chair quickly and stride towards the doors, head down and hands in sleeves.
I'm crying before I even give myself the permission to, and have to dive into the nearest broom cupboard. I slam the door shut and lean my forehead against the grainy wood, my back to the darkness of the space. The sobs grow louder then and I allow myself to feel them - only briefly, though, a voice from the back shadows announcing "occupied" and scaring the shit out of me.
A familiar voice.
"Weasley?" He obviously recognises the hair before he understands the strange noises coming out of me. Or maybe he's just never seen a girl cry before. I turn around, expecting to see the worst - a half-naked girl hiding herself from my unwelcome gaze - but he is totally alone. What demons plauge the great and untouchable Scorpius Malfoy that he has to hide in a broom cupboard from? His face looks strange when he takes in my appearance. The eyes, the mess that is my face, the shudders that embrace me - because I still can't stop, though I'm trying. He's not quite concerned ... but not unaffected. Like when he asked about my pain after we were first together - but slightly more diluted. "What's wrong with you?"
I heave breaths into my body with energy I don't have, and it shows. I can't breathe enough to breathe never mind talk.
"I - I - I-" I gasp, my hands flailing about aimlessly. Okay, definitely a panic attack. Shit! Can this day get worse.
"Okay Weasley, Okay. Sit down- " I slide down against the door without objection. I don't think I could've stayed standing for much longer anyway. Tears stream down my face relentlessly and I sweep them away with trembling hands, and not without a deep shame. "- Now put your head between your legs. And breathe. Good, come on Weasley, concentrate on my voice. It's okay. You're lucky I was here Weasley, shit. You probably would've collapsed on your own, don't you have any sense. Sheesh, how you beat me on the Charms quiz last week, I will never know."
It might sound strange, but as he reprimands me - with that silky, irritating voice of his - my breathing comes back to me easily. I'm still gasping a little, but at least I'm taking in oxygen.
"Ha, well maybe ... it's b-because ... breathing an-and charms ... not the same thing. You... should kno-know that. Might ... help you pass." I pant, with humor in my voice.
To my surprise (and maybe disappointment) he stays in his corner, moves no closer to me. He watchs my face carefully but his own reveals nothing. He doesn't laugh at my half-arsed attempt at a joke. I feel a strange tension in the room that I don't quite understand, so I put my head down again and cover it my with my arms.
I eventually feel well enough to stand, and the second I do the statue in the corner is moving towards the door, blanking me completely. He won't look at me, and I won't move from my stance in front of his way out. I feel like I should thank him for helping me, but at the same time his behaviour confuses and upsets me. Merlin, I'm hormonal today.
"Hey, what's wrong with you?" I mutter, moving my face to try and look him in the eyes. He avoids my glare like a pro. You just helped me, and I'm grateful Malfoy, don't get me wrong, but now you're being so-"
His eyes slide to mine darkly, something in them that I just can't decipher.
"-so what?" He snaps. I fluster, my mouth flapping open and shut idiotically at his tone. Maybe my confusion is the reason I say it, maybe I'm still not feeling great. Maybe I am just an idiot. But I reply in the most pathetic, childish voice I've ever possed, words that I instantly regretted:
"Being so mean." I whisper, irritatingly timid.
He snorts and another bout of anxiety washes over me. I feel my lungs shudder in my chest.
"Mean? Look, Weasley, I'm not your fucking boyfriend. I don't have to look after you, and I don't want to. Why don't you get someone else to do it - some lovelorn sap dying to snog a Weasley, or that blonde bimbo you're always with. Anyone but me." He sneers. I try to catch my breath subtly, and I don't think he has noticed the change. On any other occasion I would defend his insult - his obvious remarks aimed at Dom - but I'm light-headed and scared, and having a hard time making words again. For some reason I reply:
"Dom's ... no-not talking to me. And th-this is... private." I pant. He shrugs again, an 'I-don't-care' gesture and tries to move me. I try to move myself, but finally my panicked legs fall from beneath me. He grasps my upper arms, catching me, holding me up between him and the door with that incredile strength he possesses.
I hate him. For how he talks to me and always has, for what we are doing together, for what it doesn't mean to him. And yet, I'm lonely and scared ... and he seems like the best person to help right now. I look into his eyes, trying to muster all the genuine emotion I can. Obviously it works.
"P-please. Stay." I murmer, ashamed at the words even as I say them. Tears re-glisten my just-now-dry eyes, and this time there is serious and touching concern on his face.
He whispers his reply, like I have, and I understand why. If we don't say them loudly, maybe when we leave this tiny room what we said will be too small to really exist. Maybe we didn't say it at all.
"How can I help you, Rose?"
I have no real answer, but some instinctive part of me knows what I need before I can acknowledge it. I gasp, reach up my hands slowly to cup his face, and pull his lips to mine. Softer than normal, gentler and more hesitant. It's different, and for a second I think he might object. But he doesn't and the spark grows inside us both until I'm gasping for all the right reasons.
So Hiya. Long time no see, right? I'm so incredibly sorry by how long it take me to update my stories - both this, and Invisible - but am equally grateful to all of you who still read this story and follow, and have stuck by so patiently. I will try to update more frequently - though I am reluctant to make easily-broken promises. I love all of you who read and appreciate this fan fiction and hope you take this superlong-fairlyeventful chapter as a token of apology.
As always, please leave deep and detailed reviews - the push me forward more that any motivation I could muster alone.
Thank you.