Rose

Fifth Year, Last Term

I was just waiting for the explosion from Scorpius, and I didn't have to wait long. It wasn't even a full hour before he charged up to me demanding an explanation.

"What the hell, Weasley?" he demanded, trapping me before I could enter the library and wrapping one hand around my wrist extremely tightly. I winced and squirmed against his grip, trying to free myself like a child trying to escape from their angry mother.

"Let go of me, Malfoy!" I growled, sounding for all the world like a stroppy toddler. It confused me when his skin touched mine. It made me think things… things I ought not to be thinking about.

"Why did you do it?" His question was legitimate enough, I reasoned. Why did I do it? I wasn't even sure I had the answer to that. I had told a barefaced lie to Professor McGonagall, of all people. And I had gotten Scorpius into trouble.

It felt good. I knew that was an awful thing to think, an awful thing to say, but it was the truth. Lying and getting my own back on Scorpius for not loving me, for not wanting me, for not renouncing all his Slytherin friends, and his grandfather, and his opinions, and choosing me over everything else… yes, it was petty and vindictive, but it made me feel better.

Now I understand the phrase – there is no wrath like a woman scorned. Maybe Scorpius understood it a bit better too.

"Because you started the fight," I answered, instead of telling him that it was really a vengeance kick.

"But your stupid cousin pushed me into it, Rose! God, I thought you were all noble and righteous! What happened to you?" His glare was so ferocious that I nearly recoiled. I caught myself in time though.

"I changed. You did too. It happens, Malfoy. Now, get off me and get out of my way."

If anything, he tightened his grip more. I turned to walk away from him but he tugged me back and slammed me roughly against the wall. I ignored the throbbing pain that exploded in my shoulder, too angry with Scorpius to feel sorry for myself.

"You're a bitch," he snarled at me, and I almost welcomed the insult. It continued to fuel my burning fury.

"You're an arrogant, evil, disgusting, cockroach!" I spat at him in return, enjoying the effect of the anger that hardened his eyes to the consistency of steel.

"You are beyond irritating, you know that? So self-righteous, so perfect, little miss I can do no wrong, but really you're nothing but a back-stabbing, deceitful, traitorous, lying, manipulative f-"

I didn't let him get any further. I didn't even know what came over me. One second I was glaring at him, hating his guts, wishing he would drop dead on the floor in front of me just so I could have the pleasure of digging him a grave and dancing on it, and the next second, I had grabbed him roughly by the collar and yanked his face down until his lips crashed into mine.

I fastened my arms around his neck and locked him in a stranglehold as my lips savagely attacked his, and at first I thought he was too surprised to do anything, to react in any way, before I noticed he was kissing me back, his tongue fighting back against mine, one hand braced against the wall behind us, vaguely reminiscent of third year.

That kiss had been my attempt to communicate something vital to him. This kiss was just angry and hateful and nonsensical, but at the same time full of some hormonal teenage lust that I had no idea was buried within me. I had known, as I was progressing through school, that I loved Scorpius, I had thought him good-looking, but never had I realized just how much I truly lusted after him. How much I wanted him, physically. I guess it took the absence of the love for me to recognize the lust.

It was driving me insane. He wrenched his mouth away from mine suddenly, but only to transfer it to my neck, trailing angry kisses that would probably bruise me along the delicate skin there. I didn't care – it was worth the pain. As much as I hated him, as much as I found him infuriating, I knew that there was something about Scorpius Malfoy that I craved, and I had finally put my finger on it. Physical lust.

There was absolutely nothing romantic about our kiss when his lips pressed against mine again. There was nothing tender or sweet or meaningful. It was just filled with an electric charge, an animalistic hunger that I wanted to satiate.

When we eventually broke apart again, my breathing was so disjointed that I couldn't even fill my lungs properly. We glared into each other's eyes with just as much cold fury as we had before we'd attacked each other, the kiss having had no effect on our deeper emotions.

He dropped his hands from me so fast it was as though he had been scalded.

"I thought you didn't want me to ever do that again," he challenged.

"I didn't want you to care ever again," I responded, well aware that I'd trapped myself with my own words in a fit of anger. All I had wanted for months afterwards was for him to kiss me until my lips were raw and bruised. Which now, they probably would be.

"I don't care about you, Weasley," he answered venomously. "But it's hard not to get caught up when you attack me like that."

"I didn't see you complaining," I retorted. Scorpius scoffed at me as though I was mentally incompetent. That really got my back up.

"Of course I wasn't complaining, Weasley, I'm a sixteen year old boy. What self-respecting sixteen year old boy complains about something like that?"

"You're an arse, Malfoy."

"You can't get enough of me, Weasley, and you know it. Whether I'm an arse or not."

And on that note, he whipped around and strode away from me at a brisk pace, his robes billowing out around him. I wondered just when he had gotten so cocky. And then I wondered why, even though it made me dislike him even more, he was right. Why couldn't I get enough of him?

Why was my head so damn complicated?