Now if everybody reviewed as much as they did for the last chapter I'd be a happy person! Thanks, dear readers.

Oh, bee tee dubbel u (yes I did just do that), if you spot any grammatical or spelling mistakes in this or one of the former chapters, feel free to point them out. I'll send you a handwritten postcard.

Disclaimer: blah blah blah.

THIRTEEN

Unfortunately, tomorrow inevitable does come.

I wake up because of the rain.

When I open my eyes with a horrible roaring in my stomach and a deafening pounding in the back of my head, my mind doesn't bother wasting time trying to figure out what's wrong. What I'm currently experiencing is none other than an all too familiar alcohol-induced sickness. My wet clothes don't leave me much time to ponder over this, however. When I look up, I see a tree with leaves ruffling in the cold wind. When I look down, I see my own soaked clothes. When I look next to me –

Oh, fuck.

Scorpius Malfoy.

Ex-boyfriend. Fucking idiot. Most aggravating person to have ever graced this earth.

I nearly jump up, despite the protesting of my body. I immediately feel as if I'm going to fall down again, but hold myself up against the trunk. Watching silently as the arrogant blond's clothes are getting ruined with the boy himself unconscious, I would've smiled to myself if I wasn't feeling so utterly terrible. My, my, not so pristine and perfect now, are we?

Of course, that's about the moment my brain decides to set in.

What are you doing sleeping next to him?

Million dollar question.

Even though I wasn't feeling too festive to begin with, I can sense my face growing paler by second. White as a sheet. I count to ten as reality slowly dawns on me, as my mistakes and flaws and complete weaknesses overthrow me. I steal a last glance at Malfoy – who's looking agitated even in his sleep – and start walking.

No.

No. No. No. No.

I did not do what I did.

I did not succumb to secret desires.

I did not.

And they say denial is a girl's best friend – next to diamonds.

Well. I certainly have no diamonds but denial I possess in spades. I groan, trying my hardest to keep myself from throwing up (damn it, how much did I drain anyway?) and start walking. I realise I'm in the middle of a forest I have no idea how to get out of, and simply start walking on good instinct. I don't know if you've ever had a party in the woods, drank yourself to oblivion, supposedly slept with someone you shouldn't even dream of touching, and then woken up, in a bloody downpour.

In case you haven't, I'll spell it out for you.

It makes you feel like fucking shit.

I sincerely hope the direction I've chosen is the right one. The problem about trees in woods is that they all look the same. You don't suddenly remember the way because you recognise a certain leave. You don't. I should've learned from Hansel and Gretel, but apparently I've lost sight of every fairytale while I was busy losing all my faith in something as preposterous as love. I take it I was too busy devouring forbidden fruit, too caught up to be rational at all.

Or just too drunk.

Or a combination of both.

How the hell did it happen anyway?

I remember flashes. I vaguely remember the campfire and I know I had a fight with Eloise before and I assume we're not talking – the bitch. I recall Malfoy flirting with some pretty girl, and also that there was a good-looking boy I met. His name is Matt, he's American, and that's about all I can tell you. The drinks were for free, so I don't need a decent memory to know that I probably consumed a lot. In between there are blurred images of a close proximity with Matt and a tree and Malfoy and me and a lot of warm feelings, if you get my point.

The next thing I can really remember is waking up.

Because of the fucking rain.

I roll my eyes due to the irony of it all.

"I mean, it always rains here. Especially this time of the year. I never thought I'd say it, but I kind of miss it. "

"I've always liked rain. Sometimes it just... sort of washes things away, you know?"

"I'm in the fucking pouring rain, ruining this extremely expensive tuxedo, because I needed to talk to you! And all you do is act like an infantile nutcase!"

I try to shake the thoughts immediately, but they leave a sour taste lingering in my mouth. I bang both my hand palms against my forehead to smack some sense into myself as I walk on. One positive thing about this very moment is that the rain has stopped. I've also managed to go into the right direction, as the open place where the fire was held is now unfolded in front of my eyes. The ground is bare whereas it was filled with people last night. The ashes lay scattered, the empty plastic cups are present all over. The scene inexplicably saddens me. Things like these always remind me of a piece of art, once beautiful, that gets ruined due to lack of maintenance. Morning afters always do.

I told this to Malfoy one time.

He'd said: "If I didn't know you like the total cynic you are, I'd say you're a hopeless romantic. There's nothing poetic about a morning after. It's just a bunch of people puking their guts out because they got too carried away the night before. Period."

And maybe, you know, he had a point. But it's just a feeling that creeps onto me every time.

"I was just about to Scourgify the whole deal."

My heart stops for a second.

"Fucking hell," I curse. "Scare me to death much?"

I turn around to see a dark blond boy standing behind me, running a hand through his hair, making it all tousled. The nonchalant hooded sweater and jeans he's sporting obviously kept him drier than me. He wears an air of amusement as he looks at the litter sprinkled around the place.

"Matt?" I ask, hoping that I'm right and not making the biggest fool out of myself.

He takes his wand and flicks it. "Scourgify!" Then, he switches his gaze to me. "One and only." He gives me a once-over. "And whoa... you look like shit."

"Thanks," I snap impatiently, "I appreciate it."

"No," he says, making it sound like 'nah', "I mean, you're pretty cute usually. It's just that you look like you want to," wanna, "throw up."

"If I do I'll make you sure my vomit accidentally lands on you," I smile sweetly, cranky as a cat.

Instead of eyeing me in distaste like a certain other blond-haired boy would do, he just laughs. "Man, you English girls really are crazy."

"It's part of our charm," I give a sarcastic thumbs up.

I wonder why he's still standing here, or why I am, for that matter.

"So last night," he says and I'm already dreading this, "what did the big boy want to talk to about?"

I can't help but roll my eyes. "Once I remember I'll make sure to send you an Owl."

"Mustn't have been good I imagine, seeing as the bitch is being a Rose Weasley right now," he replies with a mocking smile. I can't believe he thinks this is funny.

"Maybe I'm just a bitch on a permanent basis," I say snidely.

He laughs again. "Yeah, alright. I'm the one who should be pissed off, you realise that?"

"Frankly, I don't really... you know, care at all," I spit, voice laced with annoyance.

"Ooh, feisty, pretty girl," still with the mocking undertone. "I wasn't really surprised though. The guy had been ogling you all night and everyone knows you were involved, so..."

"So what?" I'm only one inch away from biting his head off.

"So it wasn't like I didn't expect you to get laid by the loser," he shrugs.

First thing I want to say: you have no right to call him a loser, loser.

Then, when I realise what utter crap that is, the second thing comes to mind: so you think I'm a slut?

And after that the truth hits me.

"Yeah, well," I copy his shrugging just for the sake of coming off as careless as he does, "I suppose it didn't really surprise me either."

And with that I leave him alone with his stupid thoughts and start to make my way out of this damned forest.

"Hey, Rose?" He calls after me. "Want to go out sometime?"

"Sure," I yell back, not bothering to turn around. "Just let me jump off a bridge first."

Idiots.

All of them.

Most of all, myself.

By the time Monday morning has arrived, I've finally realised that the situation is even worse than I'd initially imagined. First off there is the fact that Malfoy took advantage of me and we still have to finish that stupid project. Second there is Matthew Evans, who on further consideration is a great catch and whom I managed to blow off completely.

I mean –

"Sure, just let me jump off a bridge first?"

Well, okay, Rose. Marvellous thinking you had going on there!

The thing is that you'd believe him to be completely irrelevant, but that he in fact will be quite important. Because next to the whole Malfoy drama, there is also Eloise Moreau. Yes, we did a great job on ignoring each other at the camp fire, but the little get-together was packed with friends. We had plenty of chances to get the other off our radar. Class, on the other hand, is the place where Eloise and I 'hang out'. She's always the person whom I sit next to. And given that I don't really know my other classmates that well (and Malfoy is absolutely out of the question) I'm stuck alone. Which completes the circle by bringing me back to Matt.

"Hey Matt," I therefore puff when I see him standing outside our classroom. Neither Eloise nor Malfoy has turned up yet.

Matt strangely enough doesn't seem angry at all and just smiles The Mocking Smile. "Oh look. It's the bitch on a permanent basis."

"Right, about that – "

"Don't worry about it," he cuts me off. "I'd be pissed off too if I'd just learned I slept with my asshole of an ex-boyfriend."

I look at the ground guiltily. "Yeah, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Like I said, it's no problem," he waves away my argument. "Speaking of the devil..."

Ah, beautiful.

There appears Scorpius Malfoy, hair all platinum, clothes all fancy, face all emotionless. Yup, that's the boy we've all come to know so well. The fact that my breath hitches for one fraction of a second at the sight of him and the memory of two nights ago, I wisely ignore and instead scrunch up my nose in utter disgust. Matt, who notices, laughs quietly and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Just don't talk to him."

"I wasn't planning on it."

Malfoy, unluckily, doesn't share our plan. "Rose?"

Not planning to give him any time of the day, I keep my gaze fixed on a certain spot on the wall. "No?"

"We still have to finish that project," he says, pointing out the obvious.

"I'll do it on my own."

He kinks an eyebrow. "Because you're so good at potions, aren't you?"

I knew it. I knew he was going to use the belladonna incident against me!

"I am not spending time with you ever again," I hiss calmly, not wanting to cause a scene. "You might just rape me again, after all."

Matt chuckles. Malfoy throws him a very, very threatening look that is quite intimidating, and then settles for a condescending one for me. "Do you really want to delve deeper into that subject here, Rose?"

How dare he! "Delve deeper? There's not much to say about it other than you took advantage of me, is there?"

"Rose," he says silently, unkindly, "don't do it. Don't give me your hypocritical Holier Than Thou attitude, because frankly, I'm through with it. You were willing and you know it."

Battling the dilemma in my head, I wonder if he's right. The issue is, I know I was probably willing. I was drunk and we have a history and he's a fantastic kisser and the electricity our bodies produce and the way he's able to push my buttons and –

Okay.

What I mean is, there were plenty of reasons for me to be willing. But that's hardly the point.

The reasons for me to be not willing heavily outweigh the pro's.

"I was drunk, Malfoy. You know I would never have done it if I had been sober!"

"Oh, and I would've?"

What?

Recollecting my jaw from the floor, I stutter, "But you're – you're a boy!"

"Can we continue this conversation some other time?" Malfoy says, his eyes hitting the ceiling.

"You are such a prick." A sneer is painted on my face now.

"Ah. That hurt. I think I'm going to cry now."

The thought of seeing him cry temporarily cheers me up, but then it hits me – fairly harsh if I may add – that this situation is anything but funny, seeing as the ultimate cry baby from the past few months has been... exactly! Me!

Besides, the term 'crying' usually refers to the act of shedding tears as a response to an emotional state in humans. Do you see the flaws in that, applied to Scorpius Malfoy?

If not – please care to read it again.

"You reckon you even possess a lacrimal apparatus?" I ask, faking curiosity.

He looks like he's about to humour me with an undoubtedly witty yet infuriating response, but as his eyes transfer from my face to the distance over my shoulder, he comes up with something else entirely, "Well, well. If it isn't the Asian shrew."

I notice something akin to hatred in his expression, but quickly write it off to my oh so vivid fantasies. I turn around, and stifle to urge to gasp in utter revulsion.

Violetta.

With her arm linked to Eloise's.

I think I might vomit all the liquor I downed Saturday all over again.

Preparing myself mentally for a war, I'm about to spew a terribly offending insult. However, Malfoy seems to be ahead of me. "I thought the Healer course was for intelligent people?"

"Obviously not," Violetta huffs, nearly cutting off the blood circulation in Eloise's limb with her iron grip – the psycho. "Otherwise you would've understood I'm only here to drop Ellie off."

Ellie?

Is this whore for real?

"So, what now, Ellie?" I bite back in Malfoy's place, a teenie weenie bit hurt by this revolting display of corn in front of me. "You're unable to find your way without Violettie's help?"

Matt, whom I'd completely forgotten about, looks from Malfoy to Violetta and from Eloise to me with an air of diversion about him. "Man, I love England."

"Shut your fucking trap," Malfoy throws him a dismissive glare.

"Calm down, people," Eloise – or should I jump the bandwagon and call her Ellie now? – holds up her hands in a sad attempt to silence the fight. "Let's not be immature about this, okay?"

"Says the girl who hangs around with Violetta bloody Chang," Malfoy remarks drily.

The strange thing is – I never realised he hated Violetta so much. Yeah, he made sure to tell me how much he'd learned to dislike her on a frequent basis when we were together, but that always struck me as an effort to boost my confidence. So what about it, then? In what way did she ever screw him over?

"Yeah, well, I tend to hang around with girls you don't like," Eloise shrugs.

He seems to be baffled one split second, but recovers quickly enough. "You aren't talking about Rose, are you?"

"Who else would she be talking about?" Violetta says in that annoying high-pitched voice of hers, flipping her shiny black hair over her shoulder with in a tremendous stuck-up fashion.

"I like Rose well enough," he replies stonily, making all of us drop dead in our tracks for a moment.

Then, Matt, who isn't currently rendered speechless, grins, "You sure have a funny way of showing it."

Malfoy ignores him and locks eyes with me. The intensity of his stare produces an unsettling feeling in my stomach and a slight pressure in my throat. I am repelled by the effect the boy still manages to practise on me, but I'm hardly to blame.

"Indeed," I confirm hoarsely, tearing my attention away from him.

"Come on, Rose, you know I respect the person you are – "

"Oh, please!" Violetta interrupts him, which makes me want to strangle her more than ever. "You cheated on her, Scorp. Save us the love fest, you know it's not going to happen anymore!"

And then a very, very uncomfortable silence befalls our little group.

The bitch could've stabbed my eyes out with one of her killer heels and it would've been less of a blow. I don't know what it is exactly that makes me want to bawl – the fact that I slept with him, momentarily forgetting what he did to me? The fact that it's Violetta again who's pointing it out so eloquently for all of us? A combination of the two? The thought that this still makes me want to bawl? – but what I do know, is that none of them deserve to see how this affects me.

"That's peculiar coming from you, Violetta," I say, face completely blank, "since it was you crawling on his doorstep, begging for him to take you back whenever he'd shagged another girl and got tired of you. And as far as I recall, he didn't even have to tell you he liked you." Then I raise a brow. "But, oh wait. That's because he never did in the first place."

And with those words hanging in the air, I take Matt's hand quite aggressively, push open the door of the class room, and leave three of them standing there.

"I second that," I hear Malfoy muttering to Violetta before following my example.

And, honestly, despite everything, I can't help but smile to myself in triumph.

Humour me, people.

Adios, mi amigos.