I couldn't breathe. It was taking all my effort to keep my legs stable. I could feel at any second my knees would give out under me. "Piss Off Al, you're too big to piggyback."
"But Rosie, with Quidditch and Swordsmanship, my legs hurt so much."
Before I could say anything else, I start to feel him lean forward with a laugh, and we both end up collapsing onto the ground.
As ridiculous and heavy he has come to be, I still can't help but treasure moments alone with Al. Although we do see each other all the time around the castle, it required lots of adjustment when he was sorted into Slytherin in our first year. We went from spending every second of every day together at Gahdrik castle, to catching glimpses of each other at lessons and lunches.
Of course, it comes with its highs and lows. Highs coming from the effervescent group of friends I have been able to find in Hogwarts. Growing up, our family was always too busy to organise play dates with others, so it's refreshing to spend time with people who don't have freckles on their face for once. The lows, however, have been the unfortunate friends Albus has picked up along the way. Like Crown Prince Scorpius Malfoy, who is as insufferable and irritating as he was during our first meeting as children. Or his cousin, who I can admit has been on rare occasion quite funny, but alas Marko Zabini's humour is overshadowed with his inability to restrain himself from flirting with anything that moves.
So, I enjoy this rare moment of solitude with the two of us, as we lie in the courtyard, looking up at the clouds.
"Are you coming to Louis' party tonight?" Al asks.
When Albus and I started in Hogwarts, we followed a long line of Weasleys and Potters who have made quite a mark for themselves. Louis, like his older sister Dominique, became quickly notorious for his lavish, often scandalous parties. A trait they definitely picked up from their Mum's side. Although the rest of us cousins haven't inherited their natural eye for extravagance and overt materialism, we have quickly adapted to enjoying the benefits. Many of us ended up split throughout the four Hogwarts houses, and would often use 'catching up with loved ones' as a weak excuse for the grand soirees. A weak excuse especially for Roxanne, Molly and Dom, who are all seventh year Gryffindors, and spend every waking hour together regardless. Only slightly more understandable for James, Fred and Louis, who although all being in their sixth year, were split between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin respectively. (Not that it really mattered, all of them would spend copious amounts of time in each other's common rooms anyway.)
"Depends on who will be there" I respond.
"Scorp will obviously be there, it is his common room." Al sighs, "You know, he really is pretty cool if you gave him a chance."
"I doubt it" I groan, getting up from the grass. "But I'll probably be there anyway."
There's a level of extravagance one has to meet to satisfy a mob of the world's most prestigious teenagers. When you grow up with all your adolescent whims met, you start to develop high standards in what you deem entertaining. Even though not every student at Hogwarts comes from wealthy and prosperous kingdoms, it doesn't take very long to adapt to the culture of luxuriousness most of the pupils live and breathe.
"Your cousin is a show-off." Capheus Thomas says beside me. The boy leading me through the crowd is a far cry from the short, chubby boy I met in my first year. Over our last summer, he shot up a whole head taller than me and apparently spending the last year training on the Gryffindor quidditch team has managed to tone up his previously plump figure.
Walking through the crowded common room, I can't help but notice the way girls track his dark frame. Nor could I ignore the stares at the hand he keeps on my lower back, keeping me close to him as we try to break through the throng of already intoxicated students. Little do they know, he only has eyes for one person, and they're certainly not a loud-mouthed smart-arsed freckle-faced Weasley. Not that I mind, as problematic as it is, I've never been one to crush on the likely and easy to love.
To my other side, scanning through the crowd with wide eyes stands Samuel Brocklehurst. His long blonde hair is tied into a messy bun, high on his head, and strands start to fall out as he flicks his head left and right in search of someone. Even though he himself is handsome in the way those with excessive wealth always seem to be, and we spend most of our time together, no one ever questions his interest in me. Especially not when he catches the eye of some poor boy in the crowd who he no doubt has decided to lay his claim on tonight.
Surveying the room, I'd have to agree with Capheus about Louis being a bit of a show-off. Around us, the Slytherin common room looks ethereal. High on the roof, twinkling magical lights sparkle, as if you could see straight through to the night sky. The lights reflect on the water coming through the wall to ceiling windows, bathing the room in a green hue, and alighting the view into the Great Lake.
The walls are covered in ornate floral arrangements, hanging above stacks of crystal glasses filled with shimmering liquid that promised impropriety. With little hesitation, the three of us make our way to the glimmering tower of drinks and decide that maybe for the night, we could lose ourselves to the lavishness.
I spend the night bouncing between circles while taking long generous sips of my glass. After a while, I take a quiet opportunity of solitude to examine the room around me.
Not far from one of the assorted drink tabes is my 5th year Gryffindor dorm mate, Alessandra Longbottom, who adorably has had far too much, far too quickly. Taking full advantage of how different the parties are to the usual soirees in her father's famous gardens.
In the far corner of the room, seventh year Slytherin Yi Jiang has planted herself happily on the couches. Yi and my own cousin Dominique enjoy the variety of sweet pastries available, pairing them with their elderflower wine as they whisper sweet devious nothings in each other's ears.
On the other side of the room, fifth-year Ravenclaw Matthias Corner is having a winning streak at cards. Every hand he plays results in large cheers from the spectators surrounding the table. Much to his housemate Ororo Iquadi's dismay, as she scrunches together her beautiful, night coloured face every time she glances at her cards. Sweet Selene Zabini, Hufflepuff's golden child, doesn't seem to mind her ever-dwindling pile of coin as she laughs and claps along at the others players success'. She also doesn't seem to notice how both Ororo and Matthias' eyes linger on her or how they put coins back into her humble stack whenever she isn't paying attention.
Capheus has found his way over to Albus. The two seem to be having an intense debate on our houses upcoming quidditch match. Both seem to forget that they're holding tumblers of dragon barrel brandy, the liquids haphazardly swishing around their glasses, as they speak with more passion than they really need too.
The walls of my vision are starting to blur, and I can't but help think that maybe, just maybe I've had a bit too much to drink.
"Hey baby," A voice says from behind me "Wanna dance?" I turn to find Aleksandr Tver, looking at me with a promise of mischief. The beatiful Ravenclaw, is notorious for being a bit of a tosser, but you can't deny he's a gorgeous tosser. Especially under the influence, I can't help but admire his large frame or his raven hair, cropped short and faded to perfection or his hazel eyes that now stare at me, hazed and dangerous. Somewhere in the back of my head, I know that I should say no. I know that this delicious desperately sought after seventh-year has never looked twice in my direction, and there is definitely some kind of hidden agenda here but still, regardless of the alarm bells, I lift my hand and place it into his.
He leads me onto the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the room. Modern music fills the space, the kind of songs that you would never listen to with your mother around. Proven more so by the array of students that grind and swelter on each other; a far cry the lithe and languid nobles I study with through the week.
Alek's body is warm behind me as he places a hand on my hip and starts to move my body in time with his. A sudden wave of dizziness hits me, and I'm unsure if it's the rhythm or the alcohol that's making my body sway. From the blur of my own thoughts, I start to process Alek's lips making contact with my throat. With little grace or momentum, his light caresses, quickly turn to wet, messy kisses, as he makes his way to the nape of my neck.
"When did you get so beautiful little Roza?" He whispers to me, "How pure and unblemished you are" The statement reminds me that this is indeed foreign situation to me. Coming back from summer a few weeks ago, it was clear to see that many of my fellow fifth year's have done lots of maturing. I myself couldn't ignore the sudden growth in my chest, or how my small waist seems to now lead into full hips. It required a whole new wardrobe before school, all my old clothes looking too small and mismatched on me. It was overwhelming how so much had changed in such a short period of time. Even now, knowing months ago the idea of it would've disgusted me, I can't help but enjoy the way Alek lightly bites on my ear or the feel of his calloused hand exploring my midriff.
"Sweet little Roza, what an accolade you are." He sighs, so quietly I can barely hear him.
"You talk about me like I'm some kind of prize," I say, slowly growing aggravated by Aleks strange motivation.
"What's more of a prize than a beautiful, untouched bloom." Alek murmurs to me. "So clean and tempting" he continues, as his hand makes his way higher up my body.
The statement is so misogynistic it immediately sobers my train of thought, deciding this is just about enough; but unfortunately, the sobering doesn't quite reach the rest of my body. I try to move away from his hold but it results in me tripping over my feet, back into his arms. Giving him the wrong impression entirely as he grips tighter onto waist, digging his growing firmness into my backside. A heavy hotness starts to grow in the pit of my stomach, a part of me enjoying the sensation of being wanted in such a primal way. A newfound craving starts to develop within me, but I know for sure, regardless of how much I ache satisfaction, I'm not wanting any help from this creepy git whispering about being unblemished and virginal.
"I think it might be about time to piss off, Tver." A voice comes from behind us. As we turn to face the speaker, I choose to blame the alcohol for the light-headedness that comes upon me. If Aleksandr Tver is a gorgeous tosser, then Scorpius Malfoy could only be described as an awe-inspiring twat. Where Alek is handsome, Scorpius is simply devastating.
Dressed to casual magnificence, his white linen shirt is delightfully unbuttoned, showing peaks of his toned torso. His light, silver-hued, hair now styled to that place of messiness that leaves girls wondering how it'll look threaded through their fingers. Through our last five years in Hogwarts, he has grown into his long limbs, spending the last three years filling his frame with muscle and brawn from Quidditch. Even the baby fat that once filled his cheeks has since been replaced by striking cheekbones and his jawline, so pronounced, I wonder if I'll cut my tongue if I run my lips across it.
It's so unfortunate that he is the absolute bane of my existence. Even so, regardless of his disregard for others, his overinflated ego, his outdated perspective of class or his over encompassing arrogance, I can't help but be grateful for his sudden arrival.
"Piss off, Malfoy." Alek replies, "We're in the middle of something".
"Well Weasley promised me a dance," Malfoy responds, the lie coming off his tongue so easily, I almost believed it myself. "You guys can keep fucking in the middle of the dance floor afterwards."
Before Alek could even respond, I allow Malfoy to grab my wrist and lead me away.
"I didn't need you to save me," I tell him, trying to ignore how the pulsing in the pit of my stomach is progressively getting more insistent as Malfoy's grip on my wrist tightens.
With a deep breath, he moves his encompassing frame in front of mine. Although I am certainly not the shortest girl around, his oversized body seems so large, it's almost as if he engulfs me, needing me to push my neck back to look up into his eyes. Using what is left of my brain and pride to force myself to stare at him with the same degree of vigour. His hand makes its way from my wrist to my hips and I notice for the first time, the foggy look in his ocean coloured gaze as he peers down at me. Staring down at me so intensely, I feel like I could drown in him. "Just shut up and dance with me, Weasley"
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hiiieeeeee
so much love to violettsl, baronnis & the chirpy bitch for your reviews! they were so lovely and honestly motivated me so much. you guys are so beautiful and i love you guys so much.
i'm sorry for the wait for this one, i wrote one so long, i had to break it up in two, so the next chapter will be up very very soon, and it'll be continuing right after this one lets off! would appreciate any kind of reviews! good, bad and random!
okay cool yeah well ily cokoa
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