Here's the next chapter, hope you like it :*
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The trip to Hogsmeade dawned crisp and smelling of spring. The first dandelions peeked beneath the grass, and daffodil's smiled a buttery yellow from the footpath. Rose walked alone, feeling her insides squish. Oscar had not talked to her since. But that wasn't what had bothered her; Albus was going with Nessa to Hogsmeade, and Tommy with one of his many tag along's. Scorpius had promised to go with Rose, but was nowhere to be found.
Hogsmeade was nearing when someone nearly fell on top of her.
"Rose!" Scorpius panted, his cheeks pink and sweaty, his hair all over the place.
"Where have you been?" Rose scowled, and kept walking.
"I was… planting some… stuff."
"Planting some uh, stuff?" Rose mimicked him. She rolled her eyes, and marched through the streets; now bursting with eager students.
"Sorry, Rose." Scorpius grabbed her jacket, and pulled her close. His eyes were rocking back and forth with her, and she felt like she was at the seaside with her father once again.
"Go find some other friends Scorpius. I have to go knicker shopping." Rose suppressed a smile.
"Oh now I could help you there." He winked. Rose laughed and disentangled herself from him, pecking his cheek before running across the road. Her heart hammered and her cheeks burned, but she went inside Madame Pannier's boutique.
How was she supposed to find a dress that resembled a bloody peacock?
Her artistic skills were really being put to the test, but she managed to get an outfit worthy of a fifteenth century witch, with feathers and sticks and masking tape, along with a shimmering blue dress that made her hair look like fire. Mask included, Rose would be more bird than witch.
She left with her bag of stuff, and glancing at the time, choked on her breath.
She began to leg it to the Shrieking Shack, before noticing the quizzical glances shot at her by every passer-by. She forced herself into a brisk walk, and eventually reached the Shack to see a fuming Elizabeth Ardent, her neighbour back when the Weasley's lived in Cobbler's Quay. Elizabeth was nineteen, with long, dark hair and tattoos ringing her arms.
"I am so sorry." Rose apologized, breathing noisily as she gathered her breath back.
"I've been waiting here half an hour!" Elizabeth said in her thick Scottish accent.
"I know, but I was buying a dress! I'm sorry." Rose rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly.
"You wee teenagers. Can't keep to even a' smallest arrangement." She rolled her eyes, but handed Rose four packets of MagicPull's. Rose gave Elizabeth a small bag of coins.
"Cheers." Rose took out the cigarette, and Elizabeth lit it. Rose took a deep drag, and felt the colour rise in her face.
"You look like a mermaid." Elizabeth commented.
"You look like a tomato." Rose chided. The girls laughed, and continued to smoke. "How's it going Lizzie?"
"Ah sure, tis alright. You, Rosie? How's that boy of yours?"
"Which one?" Rose said without any humour.
"The one that's madly in love with you?" Elizabeth frowned sympathetically.
"If you're referring to Oscar, he ended it. If you're referring to Scorpius…" Rose trailed off. Lizzie waited patiently.
"Who knows?" Rose smiled without warmth.
"Everything will sort themselves out, Rose." Lizzie put a comforting arm around Rose. She smelt of her boyfriend's aftershave.
"I bloody hope so." Rose sighed, and finished her cigarette. She stomped on its rainbow ashes, the dust rising to meet it in a pitiful cloud.
"Well, I best be off. Send me a letter if you need some more," Lizzie motioned at the cigarette's. Rose hugged her friend, and then Lizzie was gone. Her dark hair swinging, her eyebrows prominent over her high cheekbones.
With a suppressed sigh, Rose ambled over to the Three Broomsticks, where a massive throng of her friends waited in a cosy booth. She sidled in between Scorpius and Tommy, who's mind was unusually out of it.
Scorpius put a casual arm around her, and Rose was too tired to brush it off. Instead she leant in to his boyish smell, and let herself smile for the first time.
Rose followed Tommy's glazed look; it became evident he was staring at something, or someone. Her gaze hit Holly Blackshield, a Hufflepuff girl with no immediate beauty, but a shy smile and dark eyes. She had brown hair pulled into a ponytail, and her glasses were perched on her forehead. Rose looked between Tommy and Holly quizzically. Now that she'd noticed his staring, it became prominent in the conversation. As everybody laughed at one of Albus's jokes, Rose was still watching Tommy and his dreamy state.
Tommy never looked at girls like this. It was Tommy.
"Hey, Tom, what was it you said to Filch yesterday? I haven't laughed that hard since McGonagall found the toilets flooded in fake shit." Asked Albus. Tommy didn't seem to hear him, but kept looking at Holly.
"Tommy?" Scorpius said.
Rose gave her friend a sharp kick under the table. Tommy hissed at her, changing it almost immediately into a barking laugh.
"What, sorry mate?" Tommy asked in his goofy matter, his eyes glancing back to Rose reproachfully.
"Never mind. Anyone fancy a walk?" Rose asked their group. Scorpius and Nessa joined her on a stroll through the fresh fields that she had frequently galloped through. Spring sang in the delicious breezes. Buttercups hid in the long grass, and wild daisies swayed in clumps.
The girls smelt the flowers and touched the grass with tentative fingers, Scorpius watched them from a distance in the grass, and students flitted through the trees from far away.
Nessa left to find Albus, and only Scorpius and Rose were left. Alone.
"Come, sit." Scorpius patted the space next to him, and tangled her legs in his as they used to do.
"How's Patricia?" Rose asked conversationally.
"Fuck if I know." Scorpius chortled. Rose sighed.
"I miss you Scorpius."
"Rose," he said quietly. Rose looked into his eyes; eyes the colour of the Irish Sea. She felt his mouth brush hers, and she kissed him. She felt her stomach pull and contract, and she knew what she was doing was wrong. She loved him, but how could she hurt him like this? With all her imperfections and flaws, and him to expect them to love each other? When she was so wrong?
"I have to go." She said into his mouth. She left the bunch of daisies, and ran back to the castle. There were no tears, no tantrums, just an emptiness of uncertainty in her chest.
For the rest of the week, she avoided him, and put her head inside her books. Easter came and went. Chocolate was piled into a magnificent feast full of real canaries and carved eggs. When Rose looks back on the two months of March and April, she remembers nothing but awkwardness.
OWL's were fast approaching, and pressure began to mount. Classes were sat in silence, lunches were spent learning off potions and DADA spells. Scorpius would purposefully brush his hand against Rose's. He'd sit next to her every day and stare at her. He waited.
Rose tried not to talk too much; she pretended as if she'd fail every test, when in actuality, the spells were ever constantly ticking away in the back of her mind. She helped her shallower, more vacant friend's spells which they would never master.
And then, one soggy morning, the timetable was posted. It was April the fifteenth. There was wan light filtering between the curtains of the common room. Tommy was napping on the couch, muttering an incoherent word that sounded like 'trolley'.
Scorpius was next to her, barefoot and in worn jeans, he was picking at her hair. A first year stuck a thin sheet of paper onto the message board. Rose watched the mousy kid stumble back into the castle's depth. She pulled herself of the couch. Scorpius followed her over to the board.
Ordinary Wizarding Level Timetable
Rose dropped her mug of tea.
Monday 14th of June- Charms
Tuesday-Herbology
Wednesday-Transfiguration
Thursday-Potions
Friday-History of Magic
Monday 21st June- Defence Against the Dark Arts
Tuesday-Astronomy, Divination and Arithmacy
Wednesday- Study of Ancient Runes
Thursday- Care of Magical Creatures
Rose drank it all in, scribbling on a scrap of parchment, ink dripping down the age spotted page. Scorpius pursed his lips, and said nothing. He returned to their armchair, and beckoned Rose. She sat down and tried not to overthink it. It was only April. Still two months left. She calmed down, and Scorpius went back to fiddling with her hair.
A week later, Albus was reading the Daily Prophet. He was flicking through it absent mindedly, glancing at Nessa every so often. She was currently going out with Elliot Stone, a quiet, respectable, and extremely handsome boy. It was safe to say Albus was livid.
Mc Gonagall climbed precariously to the podium, her white bun pulled tight along her face. The room felt silent, and the day's cheesecakes disappeared with a soft pop.
"Good evening, students. I'd like to announce that the ball celebrating Hogwarts' twenty fifth anniversary will be commencing in one week. Girls are to wear appropriate attire. Boys shall wear their dress robes. A trip to Hogsmeade shall be arranged for this coming Sunday. This ball is allowable for all students over third year, unless one is invited. Finally, there will be no misbehaviour, or you will be sent to bed and given an appropriate amount of detentions. This is a ball, not an opportunity to cause trouble. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your dinner." Mc Gonagall wheezed, and O'Donnell helped the crater off the podium, where she disappeared into a silky grey cat, gone from sight.
The noise of chatter swelled into ruckus, as girls and boys screamed in panic. Dinner plates were flung on the tables, as everyone headed to bed, wondering: who they were going to take, would anyone take them, and what in the name of sprouted turnips were they going to wear?
Rose was genuinely the only person left in the Hall. Not one person. The only sign of their appearance being the astounding mess they left in their hurry. The elves would have to clean this up. Feeling angry, Rose went to the painting of the fruits, and stroked the pear. It giggled, and the painting swung open to reveal a humungous kitchen full of steam and cleaning utensils.
"It's Rose Weasley!" a little elf squeaked. She was vaguely familiar, but Rose couldn't place where. She had bulbous eyes and flappy ears. There was a chorus of "Rose Weasley's!" A slightly bigger elf with Chinese looking eyes and a button nose bowed so low, his ears brushed the floor.
"What can we do for you, Ms Weasley?" the elf squeaked.
"I'd like to help you clean up." Rose smiled at the sea of elves staring at her with shiny eyes.
There was uproar. "No!" the elves shouted.
"No, no, Ms Rose." Please, take some food with you, we can clean up. We elves like cleaning." The Chinese elf shook his head, and there was a communal roar of "Oh yes!"
"Well…" Rose pursed her lips, but shrugged. The Chinese elf snapped his finger, and two elves wearing spotless pillow cases rushed over with a tray piled with cakes of all calibre. "Oh, wow, uhm…" Rose stuttered, looking at all the bright purples and turquoises of icing piled in a perfect swirl on jam buns, that the elves had concocted. "Thank you!" Rose smiled.
"My name is Brimley, Ms Rose." The Chinese elf bowed once again. Rose gave him a bow back, and tears filled Brimley's eyes. The elves began to shoo her out gently. Rose jumped out through the painting and back into the castle.
"Goodbye, elves!" she said heartily, and the painting slammed shut, the pear still chortling.
Rose tried to hide the food, but the smells of freshly baked finery obviously intensified in the warmth of the common room, and her friends and relatives swarmed around her in a flurry of excitement. Not one girl except Rose ate a cake. But the rest were demolished by boys.
When Rose went to bed, she saw a fashion massacre on the floor.
Nessa, Emma, Summer, Franky, her twin Jess, and about four other girls were huddled in a circle, discussing the ball. Rose tried to tune them out, and eventually fell asleep with "Do you think you can dye hair extensions with magic?" in her ear.
That week was painful. She hid from the opposite sex, as boy after boy came to ask her to go the ball with him. She cringed and stuttered a reply of already going with someone.
On Tuesday, McGonagall arranged a dancing lesson, and she was gratefully paired off with Albus, who swung her deliberately in an ungraceful twirl across the room, causing her crash into Penelope Macmillan. She got back at him by standing very indelicately on his toe as they attempted a pirouette.
But the common room and the corridors were torture chambers; first years begged her to go with them, even Aaron Woody, the absurdly handsome seventh year Slytherin keeper asked her. And she turned each one of them down.
On Thursday, the day before the ball, Scorpius walked up to her. It was eleven o'clock, and Rose was studying. Ink was spattered across her hands, and a light sheen of sweat was pricking on her temple. The fire was roaring hot next to her.
"Rose," his voice said suddenly, making her jump. He touched her hand, and Rose realised they were alone. "I need to ask you something."
Oh no.
"I was wondering," he said. Oh no, oh no. "Do you want to go to the ball," Rose was already thinking up a pathetic excuse. "With me. As friends." He gritted his teeth, and an unrecognisable emotion crossed his face.
"Er." Rose scratched her head, hating the bubbling of longing she felt when looking at him. "Grand. Ok, yeah. As friends."
Scorpius smiled and kissed her cheek. He left then, and Rose was alone, touching the skin that Scorpius had just kissed.
The next morning, there was no school. Girls wandered around in their bra and knickers with cream lathered on their face, and reciting hair straightening and skin clearing spells. It was mostly Rose who did people's hair; she had a flair for art, and she liked to style hair into magnificent creations, highlighting each girls best feature.
She put her own hair into a fancy up do, with stray hairs escaping at the neck and temple. It made her face look perfectly heart shaped. The mascara brought her dark eyes to life, and blush gave her freckles colour. As the clocks head neared eight, Rose pulled on the shimmering blue dress that brushed the floor and tightened against her hips. Then there was the almost wing like contraption that she made herself with supplies from the boutique in Hogsmeade. The most prominent coloured feathers were blue and purple, but there was an array of fabulous pinks and canary yellows. The wings fanned out like a peacock, and gave her a surreal light. Next came the mask; it sprouted brilliant green feathers, and was lined with diamante. Together, with her red hair, she was utterly unrecognizable.
Franky, in her hot pink dress, laughed and laughed until her eye makeup had to be redone.
"You look…" Nessa said, her mouth hanging open, her green dress looking like a leaf compared to Rose.
"Not like myself, eh?" Rose laughed. When the clock struck half eight, the girls spilled out of the room and out of the common room. Rose was last, taking care not to damage her feathers. She tiptoed out of the Fat Lady's painting and searched for Scorpius.
She found him, looking effortlessly dapper and… dangerous? Was it the way he stood, coiled and waiting to spring, like a fox?
"Scorpius!" she said into the crowd. He found her with his eyes, and the look on his face made Rose's tummy slide up her throat with shivers that had nothing to do with the cold. Something told her that tonight, they would not end up friends any longer. But which way it would go was yet to be decided.
Woo the night is young!