Disclaimer: As usual, I own none of the Harry Potter material. All that belongs to me is Rouge, the plot, and any other nameless or named characters that don't belong to J.K. that'll hang around in this fic for a couple paragraphs and never be heard of again. You can use any of my characters with my permission, so feel free to ask.
Note to readers: I'm sure I'll end up saying this whenever I'll post a chapter on this fanfic, but here goes: I'M SOOOOOOOOOOOOORY!!! I really didn't mean for this chapter to be so late, but it just… was. I guess what's to blame is my paranoia that I've sunken deep into the flames that I should be getting with Mary-Sue-ism resting on my shoulders. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but it's possible. Now a few things to ask of you readers again, but this time, it's for your benefit. Now listen carefully. (1) For you 'Pro-Cho' people (fans of Cho Chang), if would be very displeased with me if I were to severely hurt and/or kill Cho in this fanfic (even though it may be a huge part of the plot), you MUST TELL ME. Please tell me in your review for this chapter if any of the above applies to you. If you fail to inform me of this… well… that would be bad. But on a lighter note, (2) If you'd like to receive e-mail alerts from me on newly uploaded chapters, please leave your email address along with your request for e-mail alerts in your review for this chapter. Okay? I'll remind you again at the end of the fic… I think that's all… so… more personal thanks:
PotterGirl – Oh, you'll see who Rouge goes to the ball with… Not in this chapter… Not in the next chapter either… But you'll see eventually.
LittleMaggie – Well, isn't that nice… I lied again. This chapter is WAY late, and I'm SOOO sorry. I really liked Cedric too… He was one of my favs too sniff. I'm trying to be very careful with Draco's character, but I'm afraid I may stray off his true character later on… He'll still be an evil dude, but he'll have another motivation in his mind… I'll leave that up to you're imagination. Everyone seems in character? You think so? I'm not sure… I stray WAY too far from Hermi and Harry's true characters, but I'm doing it anyway. Please keep reviewing! I love your reviews so much! And I cannot tell you how happy I am to be on your favorites list… I almost cried… --;; Geez, I'm getting so sentimental, but thank you. And thanks also for your comfort about my "bad" review from JMR. It's not the bad review that hurt me; it was that JMR is a close friend of mine from one of my old schools. It wouldn't bother me as much if it were just anyone. But I really appreciate your concern. I still can't understand why people compare me to our beloved JK… I'm just a kid with no social life… How can some pre-teen nobody be compared to the greatest children's author in decades, maybe centuries? How can I be compared to my own hero? It just doesn't make sense. But I do thank you for your kindness toward me. You are one of the few people that makes me think writing is really worthwhile.
Purple Ink – HELLO! Long-time-no-review! I can't tell you who'll go to the Yule Ball with who, because, quite frankly, you're the one to decide. You and the rest of the readers, that is. So just sit back for this chapter, as well as wait for the next, and THEN you can vote for which shippings shall be in this fic.
Skade – Maniacal laughter for the Yule Ball is needed, but still, other things must be done. I'm glad you liked the "new" first chapter. I hated the old one and wanted it to be redone. I suppose Rain (as in your ficcy) inspired me… a lot… a lot, a lot. So you'll get some major credit in the ending "Special Thanks To" along with everything else. Thanks for reading this chapter before I posted it… My paranoia was getting the better of me, as always. I look forward to your letters and piccies!
WaterLynx – I'm sure you won't be in lack of flames for this chapter… Sorry, I should have posted this sooner… Oh, well. Ya gonna hold a knife threateningly over me in this review? Maybe since you're in this chapter you'll let me of easy…
a fetish little number – Interesting web name… But thanks for the compliments! I will continue writing the fic, and please continue reading!
Kat aka Toni – HEY, KAT!!! Thanks for reading the… ahem First chapter ahem… And I'd really like you to read the rest… big pleading eyes Please-ee?… I'll find somewhere to add Kat in… See you in the message boards!
Feather – Laurie-chan!!! I'm really glad to get e-mails from you again! I cannot begin to tell you how much I missed hearing from you. But life can be that hectic sometimes… Well, here's your "MORE!" and it should keep you happy for at least a little while… E-mail me soon!
CaptinNobody – What makes me so good at dramatic crap? I dunno… I don't think I'm good at it, so I can't really tell you. Keep trying with the dramatic crap, but I still think your strong point is in the hilariously funny stuff (WRITE MORE "Ask PMP"!!!)… And by the way, I'm still mad at JMR, intentions or not. Gawd, I hope Rouge doesn't turn out to be a Mary-Sue… If she does, please stop me in my tracks and burn me at the stake over the flames I should get. But it shouldn't happen… That Mary-Sue Test on What's in a Name has become my bible. And by the way, my captin friend, Xcrystal isn't too good of a name for an HP character… My advice for names is to stick with other languages. Italian, Latin, and French are always the best. But that's just my opinion. THE LEECH IS WRITING AN HP FANFICTION?! panics, and begins to hyperventilate Okay, IF she writes it, make sure she posts it here on and make sure to get her pen name and the title of this… horrible fic… We could have a world of fun, burning her with flames… "There once was a man from Nantucket…" What's the rest of that poem? By the way, chapter two of my Hermi/Voldie fic is in the works.
Tenchiko Kouno – Yeah, a plot that doesn't center on romance, what a concept… I'm glad someone appreciates the work I put into searching for good fanfics… Thank you. For all the appreciation and compliments and everything I might have forgotten… LONG-LIVE LATE NIGHT FANFIC READING!!! By the way, your writing is wonderful! Please write more!
Kiota - begins to look very frightened Yes, Kiota… Voldemort is Rouge's father… Eh… You didn't know that? Sorry, never mind. Just keep that bit of information in mind… It's VERY important… Will Rouge go to the ball with Harry?… Hm… I dunno. You decided.
Mrs Norris – YAAY!!! YOU READ MY LIL' OL' FANFIC!!! I'm so happy… And you should be too. Because… drum roll YOU'RE MY 100th REVIEWER!!! throws around confetti and streamers WOOHOO!!! Is Rouge evil?… Or is she not?… Well, that's what the fic's all about, isn't it? I believe you've become one of my favorite reviewers… I'm sure you're honored. And I'm on your favorites list! sniffs and wipes away a tear I'm so happy… I love being on people's favorites list. You really think Draco and Rouge should be a couple?… I dunno… But they are quite the match made in hell. But them together might make Rouge too much of a Mary-Sue… Only reviews will tell.
CloudChick – No shift keys for you, eh? Just kidding. Have you written any of your fic lately? I really want to read more of that… Please write more!
Nikki Marie – You're right. Being evil's not a bad thing… I'm sure Rouge will teach all of us that… Thanks for the review! Continue reading and your own writing!
She's a Star – Goodness! I thought you'd never read my lil' ol' fic! I'm so happy! You get points for saying 'wonderful' and 'love' in more reviews than anyone else. POINTS FOR YOU! I love your writing and I hope to read more once I get a little free time…
The Jew in Gryffindor – "Meepies"? Good word. I'm glad you think Rouge isn't a Mary-Sue. I take far too much pride and paranoia in that. I'm still reading your fic… I'll read more soon. I promise. You wanna see who Rouge goes to the ball with? Everyone seems to… Strange… Well, only time (and reviews) will tell.
Midnight maelstrom – ASHLEY-CHAN!!! We need to write each other more… We're drifting apart… That' bad. I hope this chapter keeps Mr. Vipertooth away…
PepsiAngel - The infamous Pepsi? Good name. Everyone I ask wants Draco/Rouge to happen! JUST BECAUSE OF THAT LIL' OL' SCENE IN THE FORBIDDEN FOREST!!! Oh, well… What the readers want, they want. And what the readers want, they get. You can vote for Draco/Rouge later on… And Voldie isn't a good father! That's the essence of the story! Duncha think? Well, here's your "More...more...must have more." READ AND ENJOY AND REVIEW!!!
Derangedheathen – YAAY!!! Another Neopian! I'm glad someone finally looks at my userlookup. I'm really glad I like your story, and I promise to write more. I'll try to read your fics as soon as I get a little free time…
Anarlina – And the LOTR fan finally reviews… I really like LOTR fanmail and I can't wait for the next segment. Please write more of it soon! And I promise to write more of this as well.
I've gotten 117 reviews!!! WOOHOO!!! More than 100!!! And, once again, congratulations to Mrs Norris for being the 100th reviewer! Read and enjoy and review this chapter so I can get a start on chapter 13…
Oh! One more thing… I know this chapter isn't the greatest chapter to finally take note of someone, but anyway... I guess I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a fellow author I've always considered superior to me, but has never ceased to surprise me. That author would be The Kosmic V-Babe (read her writing if you haven't already!). I have always admired her beautiful work with Draco/Hermi fanfics and poetry, but I never thought she'd take an interest in anything I've written. One day after she had reviewed my other HP fanfic, "Happy In The Meantime", I took a look at her favorite stories list… just to see. I was shocked, amazed, and overwhelmed with joy (not to mention an ego-inflation) to see that, low and behold, there I was. "The Red Shadow by Rouge Magie." It was such a surprise to me since she had never reviewed this fic before, and I suppose I just want to thank The Kosmic V-Babe, being the wonderful author she is, for liking my lil' ol' fic. And even more for honoring me by being the author of (currently) the only Harry Potter fanfic on her list. So, in short, thanks The Kosmic V-Babe.
Oh, and thanks a million to Micky and Sharon for their help on 'that scene.' =D You guys are the greatest!
Okay, NOW I'm done rambling.
Chapter 12: In Time
Harry stood waiting in the Charms corridor on the third floor with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had been waiting there for almost the entire break between classes and he was starting to wonder if he had missed her coming out. He knew he wasn't going to catch her alone, so he hadn't bothered following her around all day. He wasn't going to wait until the last minute. He was going to ask her now. There would be no other guy in the way, this time.
He had decided to ask her as she came out of Charms, mostly because that was when he has the longest break to pull himself together. He had no idea how he had gotten through his morning classes, knowing what he was about to do, it seemed utterly mad. He begun to think that he was mad for doing this and that he should be aware of that since déjà vu had taken over his life and luck. He forcefully ignored these thoughts by telling himself; She won't have a date this time... She won't have a date this time... She won't have a date...
A pack of giggling girls exited the classroom and Harry jumped with nerves. He took a deep breath and shook his head as though trying to clear it of his pessimistic thoughts. He approached the girls and, noticing he was shaking quite badly, tried to steady himself as he nervously began, "Er... Cho?"
Abruptly, the girls stopped and turned to look at him. Some of the girls began to giggle again quietly, but stopped, once again, abruptly as Cho stepped forward. The first thing Harry noticed was that she stood out vividly among her friends, partly because her presence alone silenced a group of teenage girls, a task considered impossible by many. Her face was paler than Harry remembered, lacking its usual glow and heartwarming smile. Her silky black hair didn't have the perfect straightness it once had, and her dark eyes were lackluster. Cho stared at Harry with a somewhat expectant, but patient expression and he gestured hopelessly for a moment before choking out, "Cho, could... could I have a word with you?" Cho nodded simply and followed Harry away from her group of now whispering friends. Harry took a deeper breath.
"Cho?" he began, rocking slightly on his heels, keeping his head down to avoid Cho's eyes, "Would you... go to the... the Yule Ball... with... with me?" He said all this very, very slowly, as he didn't want to make a fool of himself by letting the words come out too fast as he did last year. She was going to say 'yes'. There wasn't any reason for her to say 'no'. He wasn't going to let time repeat itself.
But time, of course, is something we have no control over.
Cho sighed, which brought Harry's attention back up to her gaze. Her expression had become one of regret, and Harry pleaded and hoped that she wasn't about to say what he had now begun to horribly imagine her saying. But as déjà vu turned its head in Harry's direction once more, she did.
"I'm sorry, Harry..." Cho begun, looking away from him as though out of embarrassment and deep sorrow, "I... I just can't go." She turned, and began to walk down the corridor with her head lowered and a few of her friends in her wake. Harry tried to call out 'Why?' but he was speechless. She had said 'no', as simple as that, with no apparent reason that came to mind. But why?
Harry felt a hand placed on his shoulder. He turned around to stare up at a pair of eyes, as pale green as jade. It was one of Cho's friends; one who strayed from the rest of the group. She was tall, nearly a whole head taller than Harry. She had dirty blonde hair that hung down to her waist, a small orb of black cat's eye stone that hung around her neck on a gold chain, and a hand covered with rings of gold, silver, and colored stones on Harry's shoulder. He starred up at her, dazed and defeated, and she starred down at him with pity and sympathy.
"It's not your fault, Harry," she said in a comforting tone, her hand slowly lifting from his shoulder. "She misses Cedric. Give her some time."
Harry nodded absentmindedly and turned his gaze from the girl's jade-stone eyes and stared at Cho's retreating figure. He nodded again with unwanted understanding, and the girl's smile warmed.
"She'll come 'round," she said giving Harry one last pat on the shoulder. "Just you wait." And with that said and done, she turned from Harry and walked down the corridor, following her disembarked friends. Harry ran a hand through his unruly black hair out of frustration. It seemed as though time was actually enjoying making life difficult for him. And how was he suppose to compete for Cho's love with someone who's dead?! With a final sigh, he turned a walked down the opposite direction of the corridor, his head bowed. When he finally brought himself to look up again, his eyes met another pair, deep, dark cobalt blue in color.
He stopped and stared at Rouge, who stood at the end of the corridor, only a few yards away, staring back at him with her unchanging, dispassionate, blank expression. They stared without moving for a minute or two, and then she quickly turned and hurried off towards the staircases. Harry starred in bewilderment at where Rouge had stood, wondering why she had watched him ask Cho to the ball, and what she had in mind.
"How can you not like her, Hermione?"
"I just don't, Ron. Drop it."
"She's pretty, she's smart-"
Hermione looked up from her book to stare at Ron with daggers in her eyes, interrupting him sharply.
"Are you sure we're talking about the same girl, Ron? She's not all that pretty, you know. And how can you say she's smart?" Hermione felt personallyinsulted by Ron calling that nuisance of a girl 'smart.' "She never answers any Professor's questions except what her name is. She never draws attention to herself in class-"
"So she's quiet, big deal."
"Well, how can you like her so much? I've never seen her with any sort of facial expression. She's always got that dead look..."
"Everyone has their quirks, Hermione. And she kind of reminds me of... well, you know... Fleur."
Hermione snorted with dry laugher before murmuring, "That's the least of my vexations with that girl."
"Why are you two even talking about her?" Harry muttered bitterly, spitting out the word 'her' like it was an insult, without looking up from his untouched-lunch. He'd lost his appetite after his encounter with Cho, and just a simple mutter from him had the same effect as if he had shouted. Ron had been running through a mental list of every girl he even faintly knew of in their year, or any year at that, to ask to the upcoming ball. But when he reached a certain blue-eyed French girl sitting alone at the end of the table, one of Ron and Hermione's famous rows began and was holding strong all through lunch. But the two silenced immediately at Harry's words and gave him a pair of those worried looks that Harry had grown to hate over term. But their silence didn't last long.
"It's not likely that she has a date to the ball since she's so quiet..." Ron stated thoughtfully as he threw another glance at Rouge.
"You're not suggesting that you're actually going to ask her to the ball, are you, Ron?" Hermione asked incredulously with a shocked and disgusted look.
"I might as well... I don't want to end up like last year-"
"So even if she doesn't say a single word to you all through the ball, you'd still want her to go with you because she's a blonde from Beauxbatons," Hermione summarized coldly with daggers still in her eyes.
"That sounds about right. Why?"
"You're hopeless! I'd think you would have learned something from Fleur last year. Do really enjoy being turned down?"
"Who says I'll be turned down this time?" Ron said with an optimistic grin as he got up from his seat.
"I do. Don't you agree with me, Harry?" Hermione looked over at Harry, and he nodded disapprovingly, still without looking up.
"It wouldn't hurt to ask her," Ron retorted in an offended manner. "And what do you have against her, Harry?"
"She reminds me of a dementor," Harry muttered almost inaudibly, still staring down, and he said nothing more. He simply couldn't explain it to them. He couldn't truly explain what happened to him when a real dementor was around, and he couldn't explain why the same things happened when he was around that certain, blue-eyed girl. Neither Ron nor Hermione could think of a reply to this, being as strange and unexpected as the comment was. They threw worried glances, this time at each other. After a minute or so of tense silence, Hermione continued the argument.
"You can't go to the ball with her, Ron."
Ron gave Hermione a quizzical look. "And why not?"
"She's... she's dangerous," she stuttered defiantly, and even Hermione was surprised at how strange the comment sounded once she had finally said it. Ron arched an eyebrow at her.
"Dangerous, Hermione? How could she be dangerous?"
Hermione didn't reply. She was sure they wouldn't believe her. Though she and Harry shared a disliking for Rouge, he'd never believe- Hermione cut off her own thoughts. She didn't even want to think about it, let alone believe it, and Ron would be the most unlikely to believe of any of the members of their triumvirate. She would just have to handle it herself and let them be oblivious to what she knew.
"Wish me luck!" Ron said blithely after another moment of silence, rather awkward among best friends. Ignoring their mutterings of 'you'll regret it,' Ron began to walk over to Rouge just as she rose from her seat and walked over to the doorway of the Great Hall.
"Hey, er... Rouge!" Ron called as he ran towards her. Rouge looked back at him with a politely surprised look as she turned around to face him and he skidded to a halt in front of her. She waited with a book held to her chest as Ron began to speak.
"Say, er, Rouge? You don't have a partner to the Yule Ball, by any chance, do you?"
Rouge shook her head. "No. As a matter of fact, no one's asked me yet." Ron grinned at his luck and Rouge gave him a curious look.
"Well, then, would you be- ...I mean, consider being my partner? My dance partner? To the ball, that is." Ron said all this very quickly with his eyes widening in hopeful anticipation. For a moment Rouge just blinked at Ron, narrowing her eyes slightly in puzzlement, not quite sure if she had heard him correctly, and at the same moment, Ron began to think that he resembled a sea slug to every girl from Beauxbatons. Rouge's eyes suddenly widened with realization, and she looked down at her feet out of embarrassment, as though something on the floor was terribly interesting.
"That's... that's very kind of you, Ron," Rouge said quietly as her eyes flickered momentarily over to the Gryffindor table. "But... I'm sorry, Ron... I... I can't go to the ball with you." She reached out a hand as though to pat him sympathetically on the arm, but it seemed as though her hand couldn't make the last few inches and she slowly let her hand fall to her side.
"Someone else is waiting for you," she added in almost a whisper, and exited the Great Hall, leaving Ron stunned, baffled, and sure Hermione would soon be saying 'I told you so...'
"Tell me more about Quidditch here at Hogwarts, Ron."
"Back in my third year, there was this wicked game of Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor..."
"What happened?"
"We– I mean Gryffindor, that is. We were winning all the way up to the very last bit. But then the dementors- You have dementors in France, don't you?"
"Of course we do. Please continue."
"Right, well, there were dementors stationed all around the school because Sirius Black was on the loose – I'm sure you know about him – and they came onto the Quidditch field! Attracted to the excitement of the crowded or something. And Harry – he's Gryffindor seeker, y'know – he fell from his broom! It had to have been fifty feet! Maybe more!"
"Oh! Was he all right?"
"Of course he was all right. Dumbledore – you know, the headmaster – he ran out to the field and put a spell on Harry so he fell slower, right before he hit the ground. Cedric Diggory – he was the Hufflepuff seeker and captain, nice fellow he was, pity 'bout him – well, he caught the snitch before he realized Harry had fallen. Cedric was really sorry, too. He asked for a rematch and everything, but Wood – Oliver Wood was the Gryffindor captain, but he's graduated now – he said that Hufflepuff had one fair and square. He must have been barking mad to say that. That was the only game Gryffindor ever lost. With Harry on the team, that is."
"Wow, and Gryffindor won the cup even though they lost that match?"
"We sure did. You should have seen Harry's face when we won, Rouge. I doubt he had ever been happier in his life. Quidditch means so much to him, though I do remember that other time in third year, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw. Wood said the funniest thing to Harry during that game..."
Rouge and Ron talked of past Quidditch games and Quidditch players around Hogwarts in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for six o'clock to come around for they both had intentions of trying out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They had come to terms earlier that afternoon after Rouge's refusal and, after many awkward moments of conversation in the corridors, realized they had some things in common. In short, they both liked Quidditch and that seemed to be enough. Ron was having a considerably amount of fun playing storyteller this evening, and he was enjoying having Rouge as his audience. She always seemed as though she was really listening to him, that she was really and truly interested, hanging off his every word. She even gasped during the story of the rogue Bludger from second year at the point the Bludger had hit Harry. They were both so deep in the stories that they didn't notice Ron's two best friends walk through the portrait hole. Harry and Hermione exchanged looks of disbelief upon beholding the sight before them.
"Didn't he say that she turned him down?" Hermione whispered to Harry with more urgency than seemed necessary for the situation.
"I thought he did," Harry replied, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully without breaking his stare on the two. He and Hermione walked over to the two armchairs where Ron and Rouge sat and they stood on either side of Rouge, just behind her armchair, staring with irritable expressions at Ron. He looked up at them with a look of pleasant surprise across his face.
"All right, mates? Just telling Rouge about some of your games, Harry."
Rouge practically leapt from her chair as she turned around and saw Harry and Hermione standing beside her armchair. She stared at the three of them, from one to the next with a rather nervous expression, got up from her armchair. She went and stood beside Ron's as Harry and Hermione watched with expressions of not too subtle disapproval as though they had caught Ron in an act of heinous betrayal. Ron stared at his two best friends and, sensing the tenseness and awkwardness of the situation, he spoke up.
"'Bout time we headed out to the field, eh, Harry?" he said quickly with a glance at his watch.
"Yeah. Fred, George, and the others are already out at the pitch," Harry replied, looking away from Rouge and down at Ron. "I better get my broom."
"Yeah, me too. Been wanting to put my new broom into some real action," Ron said with a grin spreading across his face.
Harry blinked. "You got a new broom, Ron?"
"Sure did. Fred and George bought it for me over the summer holidays. Said they wanted me to get on the team before they left Hogwarts, and there was no way I'd get a spot on my old Shooting Star. Butterflies outstripped that thing, so they got me a Cleansweep Seven! Their Cleansweep Fives are no match for a Cleansweep Seven! It don't know where they got the gold for it... and it took me awhile to trust that they hadn't jinxed it."
Harry laughed, choosing not to mention that he had given his Tri Wizard winnings to the twins just then, and the two of them ran up to the boys' dormitories, leaving Rouge and Hermione still staring unpleasantly at each other. Hermione watched Ron and Harry until they were well out of earshot, then she turned to Rouge with a fierce glare.
"You're not going to get away with it, Rouge," she hissed.
Rouge looked taken aback. "Get away with what? What are you talking about?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. I saw you on Halloween, I know it was you-"
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you must be mistaken," Rouge interrupted quickly and calmly with a deadpan expression on her face. "Now if you don't mind, I, too, must get my broom." And without a backward glance, she hurried up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.
The three broom-holders came down from the dormitories at about the same time. Harry with his Firebolt, Ron with his Cleansweep Seven, and Rouge with her own broom, which even Ron couldn't recognize. Only George Weasley seemed to be able to recognize it when they had reached the Quidditch pitch.
"A Changement du Vent…" George said in actual awe, turning over the broom in his hands carefully as though it were made of glass instead of slender pine. The sliver letters reading, 'Changement du Vent' glinted in the setting sunlight. "How'd you get one? They only shipped about a 'hundred of these in Britain. The Quiberon Quafflepunchers used 'em before the Firebolt came out."
"Zat's why I got it een France," Rouge said with casual pride, her voice dripping with her natural, native-tongued French accent. George's gaze snapped up from the broom at Rouge's change of voice and he blinked several times at her before he managed to speak.
"You really are from Beauxbatons, aren't you? Ron told me about you just now."
"Really? I'm flattaired," Rouge said delicately as a hand rose to her cheek as if out of modesty and George grinned. Charm had always been an act Rouge could play when she really wanted to use it, which, thankfully for her own sanity, wasn't often. She could thank her mother for the talent, and even her father, somewhat, but she still wasn't even close to a Veela.
"Say, Rouge, wasn't it? Would you happen to know a girl by the name of Fleur Delacour?" George said lowering his voice and Rouge's smile flickered.
"Eh... yes. I 'appen to be aquatinted wiz 'er," Rouge stuttered as she tried to maintain an air of elegance and failed. George's grin widened hopefully. "Well, in that case," he said, lowering his voice to almost a whisper as he glanced around quickly, "could you possibly... y'know... get me a date with her?"
Rouge's flashy smile dropped into nonexistence and she regained her usual, natural, coldhearted expression.
"I'll see what I can do," Rouge said coldly in her adapted English accent that took George by surprise. Rouge barely resisted the temptation to say something obscene about Fleur or George's taste in girls, whatever the difference may be, or saying anything that would end with a slap, so she continued, "Shouldn't you be starting the try-outs about now?"
"Huh? Oh, right," George stuttered as he slowly remembered why he happened to be there in the first place. Rouge snatched her broom from George's hands and she stalked back over to the crowd of excited and not so patiently waiting Gryffindors with her head held higher than her usual hunching sulk. She had to keep what little dignity she had left.
Fred Weasley stood before the group of Gryffindors, clearing his throat to get their attention. They were a rough, motley crew of students, ranging from first to seventh years, boys and girls alike. All were eager to try-out, and all were even more eager to get on the team.
"As you may know," Fred began, trying to sound as though he had some sense authority, "I'm Fred Weasley and I'm the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. And this here is my co-captain, George," Fred finished with a gesture to George and George blinked.
"Why do you get to be captain and I have to be co-captain?" George asked Fred with a furrowed brow.
"Because my name comes first," Fred said matter-of-factly.
George blinked again. "Oh."
"As I was saying, we're the new captains and, with the help of the rest of the team and Madam Hooch, we'll choose which one of you will be the new Keeper," Fred said with a gesture, this time, to Harry, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet. They all waved at the group of Gryffindors and Madam Hooch nodded silently.
"Professor McGonagall may help the decision, too. We don't want anyone who's failing his or her classes... too badly, anyway," Fred added with a short gesture to Professor McGonagall, who was sitting in the stands. She nodded, and the faces of the academically challenged Gryffindors fell.
"This'll work in a series of practices, each one focusing on a different Quidditch skill," Madam Hooch announced, strutting along the group of Gryffindors, hands behind her back and head held high, strikingly resembling a military sergeant and making those trying out form a straight line as she went. "For the first practice, I want you all to mount your brooms, fly up the shortest hoop's length, circle the field three times, and touch back down. The six of you who show the best results for speed and control over your broom shall go on to the next practice."
The Gryffindors mounted their brooms, some with more difficulty than others, and flew up to the given height. They circled the field in a cluster while the team below watched them carefully, commenting amongst themselves on the ones who showed potential. Madam Hooch watched them with her yellow eyes and hawk-like gaze. When the Gryffindors touched back down, they were all heavily wind-blown from pushing their brooms to fly faster than the others, and those who failed to do so glared at those who did.
"Now, you six," Madam Hooch said, pointing at the six Gryffindors who touched down first. "Fly up again to the same height and do the same number of laps, but this time..." Madam Hooch bent down and unlatched the crate that rested by her feet and the Gryffindors noticed immediately that the crate was shaking violently, "the two Bludgers will be in pursuit."
About four of the six Gryffindors flinched at this news, and Harry looked up to catch a glimpse of the two who didn't. Harry was overwhelmed with joy to see that one of them was Ron, looking confident with a laid-back grin. But the girl, who Ron stood next to, Harry wasn't too happy to see. She showed no sign of fear or confidence, only her indifferent expression, which was Rouge's trademark look.
The six mounted their brooms, some still with more difficulty then others this time out of trembling fear of getting mauled by Bludger. As they shot into the air, each at different speeds like six bullets out of an old revolver, Madam Hooch released the Bludgers, standing back with knowing caution. The six blurs of black robes across the evening sky tried to increase their speed for the Bludgers went zooming after them as though there were magnetic to the closest flyer. A boy on an old school broom at the back of the cluster was dismounted within seconds. The Bludgers went on causing more damage before the third lap was flown. One girl lost control of her broom after an overpowering swerve and Harry saw George shake his head.
"A Twigger 90," Harry distinctly heard George mutter to Fred, "it's only flown by wizards with more Galleons than sense." And Fred nodded in agreement.
By the third lap, only three Gryffindors remained untouched by the iron Bludgers. They were Ron, Rouge, and a third year boy with a competitive and even rather formidable air about him; he first to volunteer for the last practice, and by that time the stands were speckled with the disappointed faces of about a dozen Gryffindors. Ron's once confident look showed signs of worry. The third year boy was light and speedy, definite Seeker material, but had the reflexes of a cat, just as the perfect Keeper should, and that was what worried Ron.
Fred and George continuously gave Ron wide, encouraging grins. Harry, too, glanced over at him several times with his encouraging smile, a glint of unrivaled faith in his emerald eyes. Even Rouge give Ron a weak smile and a whisper in his ear, "bonne chance," before they began the final practice, followed by her hurried translation, "good luck."
The final practice was one-on-one. The student in question would take the Keeper position at the goal posts, one Chaser would enter the scoring area, make the shot, and the Keeper would try to block the shot anyway they can, respectively, simple as that.
Simple as that… Ron continuously told himself as he watched the third year boy during his practice. Simple as that…
Only one shot got passed the boy, and just barely. His saves were simple, but effective with his speed. His mistake was in his lack of variation, and Alicia had been able to predict his movement and scored, but he still had saved more than was scored. This worried Ron even more; if he were going to beat this kid he'd have to block every single shot. Ron wasn't even taking Rouge's competition into consideration, except he was kind enough to let her go through the practice before him. Even with his voice slightly higher than usual, he made it seem as though it was a polite gesture, and Rouge took it with a shrug.
She mounted her broom and took position at the goal posts, circling them with what she hoped was a calm, determined air. Angelina glanced over at Katie and Alicia with a look that clearly said, 'a pushover' and she made an easy, slow approach with the Quaffle in hand, as though to give Rouge a chance. Rouge noticed this almost at once and she gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her broom handle out of prideful annoyance.
Just as Angelina entered the scoring area, Rouge made a sharp dive toward the ground, which made Angelina hesitate momentarily. After a second's thought she took this as a perfect opportunity to make a goal while the posts are unattended and she made a one-handed shot with just a simple roll of her shoulder. The Quaffle soared through the air with well-aimed grace, but a sudden black blur from below sent the scarlet Quaffle flying back. Angelina managed to catch it with both hands and she looked over at Rouge with a look of subtle surprise. Rouge returned it with a pretentious grin.
Rouge had hit the Quaffle with the tail end of her broom and with good aim, sending it back to Angelina. The rest of Rouge's blocks were simpler catches that worked well just the same. But just after Angelina signaled that this would be the last throw, Rouge's confidence took over her better judgement. If she blocked this last shot, the position would be hers without a doubt, she told herself. And for an encore, Rouge decided to do another elaborate block. She wanted to leave with an impression made.
Angelina made a swerve backwards to get a good amount of momentum, then sped forward, the Quaffle ready in her hands. Rouge made a dive and circled the goal post about ten feet below the hoop, with her eyes unblinkingly focused directly on the Quaffle, waiting like a snake in the grass, but Rouge waited too long. Her climb was ill timed and instead of knocking the Quaffle off-course, the scarlet leather ball hit her directly on her right shoulder where a gash was hidden by her robes but still remained untreated from Halloween night.
Rouge gasped for breath as the sudden shock of pain hit her as though the gash was freshly cut. She keeled over on her broom, clutching her broom handle for balance with one hand and her shoulder out of pain with the other. Angelina flew over to her, ignoring the Quaffle that fell slowly to the ground, rambling, "I'm so sorry..."s, "I didn't realize I threw it that hard..."s, and "Are you alright? Should you go to the Hospital Wing...?"s, but Rouge silently held up a hand, still clutching her shoulder with the other, signaling Angelina to stop.
"I'm all right," Rouge muttered slowly, still gasping for breath, fighting back tears at the searing pain like a dagger dragging through her shoulder. "Going to the Hospital Wing would be unnecessary, I assure you. It was just an accident. I hurt my shoulder, that's all."
Rouge flew back down to the stunned Quidditch team, stumbling as she dismounted. She staggered over to Ron, leaning against the barrier of the stands, still holding her near-bleeding shoulder. Ron stared at her with a mixture of worry and confusion, but Rouge returned the stare with a weak grin as though her pain was amusing to her, or more appropriately, ironic. She breathed a heavy sigh, and chuckled quietly to herself before she spoke up to Ron.
"You're up."
Even with Rouge's mistake on the last throw, Ron's worries were reaching a climax, but a mutter of his name drew his attention away.
"Ron!" Hermione hissed from the stands above him. Ron looked from her, to the Quidditch team, all the members talking seriously and quietly together with Madam Hooch ("...her focus was good..." "...a little over-confident..." "...and what's with her shoulder...?"), then back up at Hermione. It looked as though he had some time to spare before his turn, so he mounted his broom and flew up the stands until he was eye-level with her. Hermione's warm brown eyes were filled with concern.
"Are you okay, Ron?" she asked, her tone matching her eyes with warm sentiment as she leaned over the barrier towards him.
"Yeah, I guess, just a little nervous... I..." His words broke off for a moment and he looked down, averting his eyes from Hermione as though out of shame. "I have to get on the team, Hermione. I've got to be something beside my brothers, and this could be my only chance," Ron finished quickly and quietly, a hint of desperation in his voice.
"But you were made a prefect!" she argued, obviously thinking that this was much higher an honour than some silly Quidditch position.
"That had t've been a mistake," Ron mumbled, half out of self-deprecation and half out of embarrassment. The tips of his ears were already slightly pink.
"Well, I don't-"
"But I do, and there's no way I'll get on the team." He was sulking now; sitting there hunched on his broom. He looked miserably up at Hermione, brow knitted. "Aren't there... aren't there any spells or something that could make me better? Could you use any on me?"
She bit her lip. "Oh... I really don't think so, Ron... I can't think of any... and you'd probably be disqualified for 'magical intervention' or... or..." Hermione trailed off as Ron seemed to deflate all over again, and, feeling a wave of pity for him, Hermione got an idea. "Well, I guess there's one I could use-"
"Which spell?" Ron asked eagerly, leaning forward on his broom.
"Err... a... a calming charm! Yes, a calming charm!" At Ron's confused look, she added, smiling, "It'll at least help you feel less nervous."
"But... er... won't I get disqualified or whatever because of a calming charm...?"
"Oh, no," Hermione reassured him, her smile broadening and a glint in her eyes. "Not this charm. Don't worry, you'll be fine."
"All right, then... I guess," Ron murmured as Hermione pulled out her wand, smiling now, and pointed it between his eyes.
"You'll be brilliant, Ron, I know you will," she foretold, still smiling at him, sounding as though she believed in every word she said. "Good luck. Illudious!"
Ron seemed pacified if not faintly confused as he touched back down to the ground from the goal posts. He remembered – when Katie had called him over for his turn – wondering if Hermione's charm had really worked. He didn't feel any specific change, but he had seen Hermione cast the charm and his faith in her spell-casting ability made him certain the charm had worked, and with that in mind he felt considerably calmer. He simply played as he'd always played, doing what came natural to him, and his nerves were eased by the fact that he felt that something was helping him.
Fred and George were ecstatic; giving congratulating slaps on Ron's back and ruffling his red hair fondly, shouting their praises as Ron unsteadily dismounted ("You used a 'Starfish and Stick' formation! Bloody hell, Ron, I've only seen that in 'Quidditch Through the Ages', never in play!" "Yeah, sure, you fumbled that first catch a bit, but still, you were excellent!"). Harry said continuous, cheerful congratulations, laughing at Ron's dazed look. Ron's eyes were glazed over with amazement, shaking his head with disbelief. The Keeper position was as good as his. Even Hermione hugged him when she caught up with him from the stands, telling him "I told you so! I told you so!" over and over, and he didn't mind in the slightest. Ron had finally done something that equaled him with his brothers. In his mind, Ron was in his place.
The group of celebrating teammates and friends marched up to the castle, rambling on about a needed party, still grinning and congratulating Ron. But one mind's thoughts were not completely focused on the-Keeper-to-be.
"Hey, Harry!" called a voice unfamiliar to Harry's ear, for he had never heard it say his name before. With his reflexes getting the better of him, he turned to see the figure of Rouge running to catch up with him.
Harry looked plaintively over to Ron and Hermione, but Ron shooed him in a dismissive way with a wave of his hand and a smile, mouthing 'go on!' while being pushed toward the castle by the Quidditch team, dragging Hermione with him before she could notice Harry's predicament. With an inward groan, Harry turned to Rouge's direction as she stopped before him, panting slightly from catching up and Harry got his first ever, good look at her.
Rouge's blonde hair hung to her shoulders and was a little flyaway from the evening of practices and seemed to have a glint of silver in the twilight. Her alabaster skin had a flush of pink in her cheeks from flying in the cold November air and there was a smile across her face. The smile was weak and had the look as though she were trying very hard to keep it on her face, but it was a smile, nonetheless.
From Diagon Ally, to passing moments in the corridors, to just that very morning, Harry had never seen her smile. He also had never seen her talk to anyone except Draco – and even then she was somehow pushed away – until today. But while she had talked to Ron in the common room and to George on the field, she smiled. Harry put two and two together, but as his eyes wandered to the red streaks in her hair and her dark blue eyes for the nth time, he mentally shook himself, and hard. She was still that girl from Nocturn Ally. She was still reminded him of his greatest fear. She was still 'her'.
"Hey, Harry," Rouge said again and Harry wondered if she knew she was repeating herself. "I know we don't know each other very well... We've never really spoken to each other, have we?" She bowed her head, shut her eyes with a hand to her head, and she chuckled to herself at the pure idiocy of what she was about to do. Harry just stood there feeling as though he was missing something important and he refrained from saying anything he'd probably regret. Rouge suddenly looked up at Harry with her smile renewed, and Harry barely kept himself from wincing with the expectancy of pain as he looked at her in the eye. It's usually considered polite, but Harry couldn't help but regret letting their gazes meet.
As Harry's eyes remained transfixed on Rouge's, he became very aware of his scar. He wasn't in any pain as of then, but he was very aware of the mark on his forehead, the same way you're very aware of your neck before you're about to be guillotined, he reasoned. But Rouge kept her smile even with Harry's unspoken discomfort.
"I know there's probably a waiting list of girls to ask you..." Rouge admitted, a little quieter than her normal tone, and it hit Harry as hard as a Bludger to the head what she was about to ask. "But..." Rouge took a deep breath and Harry waited with unwanted expectancy, "would you consider going to the ball with me?" she finished quickly.
"Er..." Harry mumbled as his eyes flickered around the field for some means of escape. He found nothing and he forced himself to look at Rouge. She looked pitiful, her eyes pleading for him to say 'yes' and hoping that talking to him wouldn't have been in vain. She breathed slowly, obviously trying to keep from panicking. Her breaths formed in the cool November air into small, shapeless, and almost invisible clouds that swirled around her before rising up into the sea of gray sky above them that foretold coming snow. For a moment, Harry could almost see what Ron meant when he said Rouge was pretty.
And for a moment, a single peculiar, passing moment devised of all the elements of the physical and mental world, in which they both were only two lost souls beaten down by uncontrollable misfortune... A moment in which Harry believed everything he thought badly of Rouge could somehow be proven wrong, and that they were both victims of a terrible, long-going misunderstanding... In that moment, Harry wanted to say, 'yes'.
But the moment passed through time with everything left unsaid, just as a single snowflake can pass you without your notice because one snowflake is too small to make a difference in the storm. One moment is not enough to make a difference in the span of time.
When the moment passed Harry seemed to have come to his senses, as well as his embarrassment for such a long stretch of silence on his part, which he hurriedly broke.
"Er..." he started again, repeating himself while breaking the old silence, but starting a new and worse one as he, panicking, thought of his next line. "Look," he said trying to sound firm and succeeding far too well, "I can't go to the ball with you. I... I..." He tried to end with a reason, but since he simply couldn't explain them all, he fumbled the rest of the sentence.
Rouge's smile, which had become something of a desperate sort, fell, though it didn't have far to fall. She bowed her head out of embarrassment, unable to look at Harry in the eye, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief as their gazes were finally broken. But even with his small relief, Harry felt as though he should say something to her, so he took from his memory the phrase most frequently used in these situations.
"I'm really sorry, Rouge," he said, trying to sound comforting, and failing to sound as sorry as he claimed.
"No," Rouge said quietly with her head still down as she turned from Harry. "No, that's all right. I understand." Harry noticed that she was as bad a liar in these situations as he was. As she turned, she threw one last glance at Harry with her pitiful blue eyes, and he felt as though another Bludger hit him in the head, directly on his forehead, and his scar seared with the sudden pain. It wasn't a burning sort of pain like the Cruciatus Curse, but a stinging sort of pain like salt on an open wound, like the salt in tears.
The pain went as quickly as it came, and Harry shook off his trembling as he walked back to the castle, but with horrible, unnoticed obviousness as he unintentionally caught up with Rouge, he realized that they were going to the same place. There was no point in running ahead of her and condemning himself to be labeled as a rude prat, and he had nowhere else to go so late in the evening, so he walked along with her.
Harry could tell Rouge was aware of his presence beside her by the intense focus in her eyes not to look at him, so they walked in silence as the castle drew nearer. Harry found that his eyes kept wandering to the corner of his eyes to look at her expectantly. She was apparently determined to ignore him with her obdurately blank expression focused straight before her, which Harry guessed was out of sore pride. Rouge looked exactly as she did whenever Harry saw her around the castle, except her eyes weren't focused on the stone floor. By the time they had walked in silence for several minutes, Harry could stand it no longer.
"It wouldn't hurt to smile once and awhile, you know," he blurted out suddenly, saying exactly what was on his mind. Only when he had finally said it did he realize how very uncalled for the remark was. He had seen her smile three times that day, which seemed to be quite an accomplishment for her. Rouge threw him a denouncing stare accompanied by a raised eyebrow.
"Under the circumstances that I've been gathering my courage all day just to ask you to the ball," she pointed out with a sharp edge to her tone, "and then I was brutally turned down, you do really think I should be smiling?"
Harry took a moment to consider this, and another to let his guilt settle.
"Well, no," he relented, "but I've never seen you with a smile before- ...until today. Even that day during the summer holidays at Diagon Ally... That was you, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, that was me," Rouge said in a mutter. "And tell me, Harry, what's so great about always displaying your emotions on your face so you're as easy to read as a book? You become predictable that way. Exposed. Weak, even. We are our own enemies; our emotions are weapons that can be all too easily used against us. As Shakespeare once said, 'Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.' And do you really want everyone reading those 'strange matters'? In all honesty, Harry,I see no reason to be smiling all the time."
Harry didn't answer this and tired to become very focused on walking, his eyes on his feet, one foot in front of the other, step, step, step, step. It was then Rouge's turn to give him an expectant look, and when he still didn't answer, it was her turn to break the silence. She swallowed hard, composing herself, as though preparing for a speech.
"Not everyone's all smiles, Harry. I think you'd relate to that since you're not exactly all smiles yourself." Rouge then paused, or at least Harry thought she paused. He became lost in thought, wondering what she meant by her comment. When was the last time he had smiled? It seemed like ages ago... Maybe Rouge was right.
Harry shivered, but Rouge took no notice since the November wind was harsh with cold; a shiver was nothing unusual. And a shiver, a shudder, a tremble of fear was nothing unusual for Harry Potter. Rouge was right, for Harry wasn't all smiles anymore. In fact, he hadn't truly smiled since before the Third Task, just weak facial gestures that would appear on his face at the appropriate moments to make things seem as though everything were normal, that he was normal. But it wasn't true; none of it was true. He was about as normal as 'her'.
When Harry emerged from his thoughts, Rouge was still silent. Her head was tilted slightly to one side, peering at him with a knowing look in her eyes. They were almost sympathetic, and Harry forcefully ignored his annoyance with her. He hated the sympathetic looks everyone gave him, and he didn't need any more of them, especially from Rouge. She got the hint from Harry's look of displeasure and she went back to looking ahead of them. She took that it was her burden to once again break their silence.
"Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?" Rouge murmured with her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes glancing slightly upward with a faintly thoughtful look. Harry blinked at her.
"What?"
"Wolfe. It's a quote by Thomas Wolfe. 'Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?'"
They continued walking in silence, Rouge still looking faintly thoughtful and Harry's brow knitted in curious confusion. Quite the philosophical pair they made.
"You know... my maman once told me-""Your what?"
"My maman, my mère... my mother, Harry," Rouge exclaimed exasperatedly with a sigh. "It's French, Harry. Surely you must know a little being that France isn't too terribly far away. It's only across the bloody English Channel."
There was another moment of silence, speaking far more than Harry could reply.
"As I was saying," Rouge began slowly and irritably, "My mother is a Herbologist and once she-"
"A what?" Harry interrupted again, and Rouge stopped walking altogether.
"Oh, Merlin's beard, Harry-" she spilled out, her agitation rising. She was breathing slowly and heavily, her eyes shut tightly and a hand to her brow as though their conversation was becoming painfully trying and definitely testing her self-control.
"A Herbologist," Rouge began again, very slowly, "is someone who studies Herbology as a profession... like Professor Sprout, for example. She probably became a Herbologist before she became a professor. That's what my mother does. She enchants muggle plants, finds the magical properties in them and the like. Lots of magical genetics work. Do you get it now, Harry?"
Harry only replied with an absentminded nod. He was just now noticing how many times Rouge had said his name, which happened to be quite a lot. It seemed as though through the conversation she was reminding herself to whom she was speaking, more than she was trying to address him.
"Anyway..." she began, inhaled, exhaled, and took on a demeanor of quiet seriousness. "My mother, she once told me something Leigh Hunt once said: 'Whenever evil befalls us, we ought to ask ourselves, after the first suffering, how we can turn it into good. So shall we take occasion, from one bitter root, to raise perhaps many flowers.'" Rouge said nothing else and Harry was left to think about this. Something... something was comforting about those words. It seemed almost cliché, to be comforted in a time of hardship by an inspirational quote, but there is always some truth to clichés.
"What you think it means?" Harry asked after a few moments of silence, trying to keep up the feel of philosophy, and Rouge paused for a moment, looking thoughtful.
"I dunno... there's lots of meanings. It's all about interpretation, isn't it? Sounds like Leigh knew what she was talking about, though. And it's always comforting to feel like someone in the world knows what they're talking about." Rouge grinned at Harry, and he returned it.
Harry and Rouge were an odd pair, walking side-by-side through the Entrance Hall. They seemed to clash violently in physical appearance. From hair and eye color, to skin tone, and even to, ever so subtly but still a difference all the same, height. They were different, but had become accustom to each other's presence and accepted each other's company. But they were not alone.
A group of Slytherins walked down the marble staircase to the entrance of the Slytherin dungeons and Draco Malfoy's drawling voice could be heard well over the rest of the chatter. Harry promptly looked the other way and quickened his pace up the staircase to the upper corridors to prevent an encounter with Draco and his crowd, but Rouge didn't follow him, her eyes trailing the Slytherins as they passed. Harry looked back at Rouge as he noticed she no longer walked beside him and he stopped to wait for her, but she still didn't follow him. Instead, she quickly ran over to the Slytherins with a shout, "Hey, Draco!"
The Slytherins stopped and turned to look at Rouge with Draco right in front as Harry gaped at her from across the hall. Rouge looked back at him with a dismissive wave of her hand, and with only a moment of hesitation, Harry made his way up the staircase. Rouge watched him go with a small smile about as warm as a wisp of steam in case Harry looked back and Rouge was correct in her guess that he would.
Harry glanced back at her with the same dumfounded, gaping look and he suddenly saw, as Draco and Rouge stood together, how similar they looked, in more ways than meets the eye. Not just physically with their pale faces and silver blonde hair, but the auras around them seemed to be of the same sort. Harry found this unnerving and quickly turned left when he reached the landing and the top of the stairs and hurried on his way back to Gryffindor Tower, this time, without looking back. Rouge's face darkened as Harry walked out of sight, ending her act of kindness, and she didn't have to turn around before Draco began.
"If you're going to ask me to the ball, Magie, you're wasting your time." Rouge didn't have to turn around to see Draco's smirk, for she knew it would be there just as it always was, accompanying that tone of voice.
"Don't flatter yourself, Draco. As much as you may not want to believe otherwise, it's not flattering," Rouge observed dispassionately as she slowly turned around. "And you really need to work on your insults. Calling me 'Magie' just doesn't work."
Draco sneered at her and folded his arms across his chest. The rest of the Slytherins followed his lead and threw Rouge pompous looks while Crabbe and Goyle glared menacingly.
"So you've come to waste my time, have you?" Draco asked as he stared at Rouge with an air of superiority.
"On the contrary," Rouge said calmly as she took a step forward. "I have a proposition for you."
Draco rose an eyebrow and reflexively glanced over at Crabbe and Goyle on either of his sides, making sure he had an upper hand before he started anything.
"What's in it for me?" he asked, but Rouge held up a hand as her eyes moved curiously to the two bodyguards who flanked Draco.
"They're the new Beaters for the Slytherin Quidditch team, are they not?" she asked inquiringly with a gesture to Crabbe and Goyle.
"Yeah, they are, but what-?"
"And does Slytherin not have a Quidditch game against Ravenclaw in about a month?"
"We do," Draco said shortly, his patience running dangerously thin. Rouge's lips twisted into a cruel smile with a mutter, "perfect." But within a second, a serious, poker-face expression reappeared on her face.
"So, are you interested?" she asked nonchalantly and Draco's patience just about gave way.
"What's in it for me?" he hissed, almost as a threat and Rouge shot a suspicious glance at the surrounding Slytherins. She grabbed Draco's shoulder and steered him away from the crowd until they were out of earshot. Draco stared at her with growing bafflement and horror, opening his mouth to protest, but Rouge answered him before he even asked with another mutter, "witnesses."
Draco gave Rouge a puzzled look, the same look you give a loon who's just walked up to you, covered in tin foil, and has asked you to take them to your leader. And Draco was ready to believe that Rouge was a lunatic as she grabbed both his shoulders, making him stare at her straight in the eye, a determined, detesting madness shading the blue of her eyes.
"You'll hurt Potter more than your pointless taunting ever could," she said darkly, malice dripping thickly from her words. Her voice didn't sound as though it were her own, partly because she had never referred to Harry as "Potter" before, but an interested smirk slowly split across Draco's face, and he rose an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue. "No physical scars will be left, on him, but a good amount of emotional scars... Not that he needs anymore with that one on his head," she finished with a scoff.
For what seemed like ages, Draco stared at Rouge, up and down, sizing her up. He sized her up as a Gryffindor, he sized her up as a Death Eater, and he sized her up as a possible accomplice. Apparently she made the cut. Draco stuck out his hand in a business deal-like fashion and Rouge gave him a satisfied, sideways smirk. She knew Draco would be easily bought with Harry's happiness on the line. They shook hands and Draco sealed the deal with three calm, clear words.
"I'll do it."
Note to readers: That should be long enough for you… Considering that it's over sixteen pages on Microsoft Word. I hope y'all liked it, it took me long enough to write… As for the reminders: (1) If you're 'Pro-Cho' and would be highly displeased at me if Cho were hurt and/or killed in this fic, you MUST TELL ME in your review for this. It's for your own good. (2) If you'd like e-mail alerts from me on newly uploaded chapters, please leave your e-mail and a request for e-mail alerts in your review for this chapter. That's all. Please add any other notations in your review that'd you'd like to add… such as what you thought of this chapter… Things like that. Thanks for reading! Please review! Chapter 13 is on its way!