Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, nor do I own Harry Potter. All ideas are my own.
As always, the first day back at Hogwarts is a quiet affair. Well, as quiet as it can be.
Normally, I would spend this time catching up with people, but I did so last night, and unlike Summer, Christmas is a much shorter break meaning that not much has usually happened in between.
I'm not sure the same can really be said for me and my life, but as it may be obvious, I quite like to keep that to myself, so no one thinks I have anything going on in my life.
Which is how I prefer to keep it. When I was younger, my Mum used to tell me about how a private life meant a happy one. At the time, I never really understood it, but as I've got older, I can't believe I ever didn't.
Of course, there is the natural downside that, if I'm dealing with something, no one is going to have any sort of idea. And therefore the emotions become bottled up inside of me, until one day where I'll just burst and everyone will think I'm crazy.
Not that they don't anyway.
But, keeping myself to myself, means that I'm not involved in unnecessary drama. Take it with Anto for example, when I was seeing him, if you can even call it that, everyone knew and everyone made it their business to comment on what was going on.
My friends knew, his friends knew, my family knew, and when my family get involved then you know your life isn't going to be peaceful from thereon.
So today I decided to do exactly that, and keep myself to myself.
Waking up earlier than expected, to the pink hues of sunrise threatening to invade the inky darkness of night, I got up, burrowed myself under my duvet again, lit a candle and began to read.
Naturally, me being me, I ended up getting distracted. But this time it was by something so minor I wonder how it ever caught my attention in the first place.
Something about the match I used caught my eye. The way it fires into action with the crackling fizz, glowing red hot, before the flames gently flicker down the stick and the wood splits, drowning itself in death.
And of course that's the end of that. It can never be used again. Its sole purpose was to light the candle, but for that to have life, it had to die. For there to be beauty, there had to be pain.
I don't know.
Maybe I'm thinking too much into this and driving myself insane. It's actually quite strange that I concentrated on it for so long, seeing as I always used to have an avid fear of fire.
When I was little, and went to Muggle Primary School, I remember this one time so clearly, in year one, where my teacher lit a candle and placed it in the middle of the room. It could've been as part of a science experiment, or as an act of remembrance, I can't recall the exact purpose of it, but I just remember staring and staring and staring so intently at these dancing embers, until pools of water appeared in my eyes.
I was so so scared, that the candle was going to fall and set the carpet alight, but I couldn't stop staring, and as I did so the flame only burned brighter and brighter until I felt as if all I could see was orange and yellow.
Mum now thinks that maybe my magic interfered here, as young as I was, I felt so emotionally strong about this little fire that I began to control it; we were lucky it didn't turn into an inferno of fear.
In the end, my teacher had to pick me up, sit me on her lap, and calm me down, as the other children watched as I cowered into her cardigan. She let me blow it out, which I think alleviated the fear slightly, because I then realised that, as much as someone has the power to light it, they also have the power to extinguish it just as quickly.
After that I conquered my fear slightly, but deep down I know it's still lurking beneath the surface. I think the same goes for all things that you feared as a child, as much as you overcome it as an adult, you still remember the feelings that these things brought you as a kid.
And staring at that candle this morning, for a moment, my eyes were consumed by that orange and yellow, and for a moment, I felt about six years old again.
I suppose now I appreciate the beauty of it more. As a witch you have to work with fire, and learn its powers and downfalls, the latter having been seen most recently in our world's history.
But I'll never forget the way it made me feel. As a kid, even as a teenager, fledging into adulthood.
And how could I ever forget the danger that it causes, the vast fear it lights in others too?
It's amazing, I suppose, the damage a little flame flickering in the wind can do, and the damage it can leave behind.
When you see ash, or embers, you know that some extraordinary fire has wiped out whatever was there before. It has left its mark in black and white cloud, almost leaving a legacy behind.
All this talk about fire makes me forget my task in hand. My book has now fallen limp in my hand, the pages wilting in tiredness, begging to be returned to the shelf if they're not going to be read.
I've decided, that today is the day I finally get back to Quidditch. I can't even remember how long I've been out of it for, and after a serious conversation with my parents about it over Christmas, I think it's time that I give it a go again.
Of course, Lily isn't going to be too happy about this, seeing as she's been filling in for me while I've been absent, despite her being predominantly a seeker. I think James finally realised the talent in his little sister, and decided that, as she won't be taking his role until next year, she could fill in for me at the time being.
Naturally, after I fell, I could no longer play, and with Hufflepuff beating Ravenclaw last year, they took second place, while us in Gryffindor took third.
And as the next Quidditch game wasn't planned until after Christmas, I haven't actually missed any games, only training, however, reflecting on it, I don't intend to make the first game.
I'm bound to be rusty after a while, so my plan of action is to train in secret until I feel confident enough to let James know that I'm ready to come back.
Our next game is Ravenclaw, and while I'd love to play in it, more so for bragging rights against the Scamander brothers if we win, I also don't think it's fair to rip this chance away from Lily.
From what I've heard, she's been killing it in training, and from what I saw over Christmas, her hope and excitement of making her Hogwarts Quidditch debut, it would actually heart my hurt a little bit to take it away from her.
I will just have to wait until we play Hufflepuff in the Summer, where we can hopefully lead our house to victory, and I can then have bragging rights over my brother this time.
Of course, my favourite person to gloat over would be Scorpius, but I'm trying not to think about him.
God, what a way to end the year that would be, wiping that smug smirk off of his pretty I mean perfectly average face.
It's a shame we don't play Slytherin again, that could be my way of getting revenge for what he did to me last term, in knocking me clean off my broom I mean, not for what went on personally between us.
I'm not that spiteful to use my emotional anger against him in a game of Quidditch.
Scratch that.
Of course I am.
But I suppose it's just the name of the game isn't it, all's fair in love and war.
You would've thought, given that it's now about 10am in the morning, people would be having lie ins on the last day off before lessons begin, but no, this is Hogwarts, and the constant chaos is never-ending.
What should've taken me a 10 minute journey, has actually taken me half an hour, due to being stopped by friends and professors all asking me similar questions of
"How was your Christmas?"
"Have you started revising for exams yet?"
"When are you getting back to Quidditch?"
I'm thankful when Professor Flitwick asks me the last question, as it gives me an excuse to leave and scurry down to the broom cupboard.
I didn't bother bringing my broom from home, it's knackered and tired and would most definitely fall apart if I got on it. In fact, it's probably better off if I call it a pile of sticks, because that's pretty much what it is. I just can't believe it survived my accident last term.
And the school ones will suit fine anyway. As much as a good broom can help, it's more about the talent in my eyes.
So I'm prepared to walk in to the familiar yet comforting smell of mustiness, prepared to get back to my Quidditch playing days, prepared to start this year out on a high.
But what I walk in on, expecting a cupboard full of brooms, expecting peace and quiet, refuge in a place I've not visited for so long, is something I never quite expected.
Something I thought was long gone, the past, something that had died as quickly as a lone flame isolated from oxygen. And in that moment I was the flame, dying, dripping wax all over the table as I crumbled into ashy embers.
Just looking on, clinging on to life, as I watch, silently now, Belle and Scorpius in a warm embrace.
Maybe I spoke too soon. Now I just want to go back home.
They spring apart. As if I've just cursed them with a nasty jinx. Scorpius looks as if he's going to be sick, and Belle looks, well, there is no other word I can use apart from sympathetic.
All I can feel is an overwhelming sense of deja vu, but it doesn't float over me in calming waves, it punches me straight in the gut.
*And all I see before me, is Belle straddling Malfoy, with both of them shirtless, Belle just in her bra, panting heavily. Belle has gone red, and climbs off of Malfoy quickly, throwing herself off almost, desperately looking for her shirt.
For the first time in her life, she shoots me an apologetic glance, clearly mortified at me walking in on them*
Although I didn't catch them shagging this time, the pain hurts all the same. If anything it's worse, slicing a sharp dagger across my heart, leaving it impaled as I bleed out in misery.
A feeling of homesickness also immediately races through me, I feel nauseous, if I speak I may be sick.
But then that feeling is quickly replaced with a fiery anger, ripping through me in dangerous flames, now if I speak I'm afraid I could erupt.
I do well to hide this though. I can tell I appear calm as my face hasn't heated with burning scorn. But inside I'm desperately trying to conquer a battle of emotions, breathe Rose, breathe, I tell myself, let the anger boil down and act freakishly okay.
They stare at me, almost blankly, and I do the same back, we're unintentionally mirroring each other with watchful eyes.
But standing here, just staring, isn't going to make this any better Rose, I tell myself.
So much has changed since I last saw them together, I can't even begin to think about what is different.
Yes, Rose, because you don't have the time.
Opting for a different approach than last time, I decide to walk in anyway. Who are they to stop me from getting what I came here for?
The continuation of my footsteps is what seems to snap them both out of it. I don't bother with an excuse me, just slip past and go to what should be a simple task, no?
But of course, silly me, my lapse in judgment is forgetting that I am in the presence of Scorpius Malfoy (albeit not by choice), and that of course means that I will be insulted.
"Finally getting back out there are we Weasley? Thought I'd done enough damage to count you out for the rest of the season."
His voice trembles as he speaks though, which he attempts to disguise with a slight cough, but that is assurance enough that I have the upper hand. After completely throwing him off guard by appearing here anyway, I haven't kicked off, today I must be full of surprises according to him. And I intend to let the uncertainty continue, so I retort with a veiled comment.
"Ha, please Malfoy", I scoff, turning around and raising one pointed eyebrow, dragging my eyes up his body, before staring at him intensely.
"As if you could ever hurt me."
My words have double meaning and we both know it. I let my gaze linger for a second before snapping my head away and beginning to walk off.
A flicker of something darts in his eyes and as awful as this sounds, I hope it's pain. I hope that it hurts as much as he has hurt me, despite my contradicting words of only 10 seconds prior.
The atmosphere is stifling, stuffy, and silent, Belle doesn't even bother to speak, she just steps apart and lets me through.
Not throwing another glance in his direction, I just stalk out, letting out a breath I didn't even realise I was holding in.
Now thinking about it, it's funny to think about how much has changed, just by the looks on their faces. Belle, apologising last time, seems to be more sad for me. Her eyes are wide and her smile is wistful, sympathetic rather than apologetic. I almost feel as if she's trying to tell me something, as if she's trying to communicate that she knows me, or what's going on, or how I feel.
But maybe that's me looking into things.
Scorpius on the other hand, looked as if he wanted to vomit. Colour disappeared from his already pale face, and splashes of green took its place. Not the most flattering of looks of course, but he still made my heart skip all the same.
And it's not even just that with Scorpius, it's how he tried, to fervently, to insult me, to bring some sort of normality back to our situation, as if it was ever normal in the first place.
But it's the way his voice cracked, seemed shaky, unsure, that I know he hasn't forgotten about what's gone on between us. That I know he still thinks about me in the same way I do him, and as much as I want to punch him for what I just saw with Belle, I want to hug him all the same, beg that we won't give each other the silent treatment.
It's an odd feeling of reassurance, one that makes me feel almost warm, but one I know I must convert to anger.
Anger of him being with Belle.
Anger of him trying to bring me down again.
Anger of him calling me Weasley, as if he never called me Red, or called me Rose.
But most of all, anger that he is preventing something that we both know is wanted.
Call me irrational, sure. Indecisive, even, the way my thoughts flit from one thing to the other in terrifying speed, but I'm not going to lie and say I'm not feeling these things. I'm not going to say that I still don't hold a candle to him, despite the fact that the candle is melting, soon to be extinguished.
Pull yourself together Rose. This is no time to be holding a flame for anyone. It's time to burn every bridge, let the fire die, hear the faint woosh of water pouring over hot embers, leaving everything that was, and that ever will be, to ashes.
Sorry for the shorter chapter today, this was all I had planned for this one and it felt fitting. Due to the shorter (and crappier) chapter, I will try to get another out in the next 2 weeks, but no promises, try is very much key in this sentence!
Story updates will be once or twice a month, time permitting. Expect one a month, band then it will be a treat if it's two. I so wish I could publish more but I just do not have the time with my university work. I want to make sure that every chapter I put out is one I am happy with, and need to make sure that all the necessary detail is in each one, so the story makes sense.
Uni work is a lot, I've got loads of never-ending deadlines at the moment. You'll be able to tell when I'm back for the holidays as you'll get more uploads!
I hope you're all well.
Until next time,
E x
Knackered - worn out
NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW:
Sitting, alone, as I want to be, I'm startled by the rustling of movement next to me. More startled in fact, and pissed off, when I realise it's the one person I wanted, and have tried so hard, to avoid.
"Merlin, can you not just leave me alone?"
A voice unlike mine is the voice the speaks into the darkness. She's hard to recognise, trembling and nervous, yet still so sure of what she wants.
"You know we can't be like this", the male one responds in turn, as the figure it accompanies sits down, next to the owner of the voice so shaky.
"Like what?", I demand, trying hard not to let my voice escalate into that of a shout.
"Just like this, Red"
"Well that's tough going Malfoy. You've made your bed and now it's time to lie in it. Did no one ever teach you about actions and consequences?"
"Well if I knew the consequences would be like this, then I never would've acted like I did in the first place."
Now all I see is red. An untouchable, unfeeling anger, one I've bottled in and tried to extinguish, but one that now may finally rear its ugly head."