AN: Oh my god this the most reviews/views/alerts/etc. I have ever gotten on a fanfic. I love you guys. You're awesome. I'm sorry these chapters are so short, but there will probably be a lot of them, it's just my writing style- many short chapters vs few long chapters. Anyway, I have to go because my cat is trying to climb on top of my head (no joke, she's trying to paw me up). Enjoy!
The day after the infamous chess game, Al, Frank, and Creevey bugged me like crazy. The three were getting on my nerves more often than not, forcing me to have to avoid them. The only problem in this? That meant I'd have to find a good partner for various classes, which only left Rosie to choose from. Not that I didn't enjoy her company, because I did, and that in itself was the problem. I didn't want to enjoy her company. As a friend, sure, but thinking she was cute when she got angry was not on the best friend list. Al wasn't cute when he was angry. He looked kind of psychotic actually, one eyebrow raised and the other furrowed, one eye squinted and the other wide and crazed. I didn't like to be around Al when he was really angry. Rosie on the other hand, was more of a subdued anger. She'd never gotten that angry at me, well, ever. Only at other people, and Merlin's beard she looked cute when she was mad.
In potions I was still stuck with Al as my partner however, and he insisted on being the one to put the important stuff in this time, as if I'd really be distracted again. One time was enough- more than enough really. I wouldn't be tempted again. Ever. In the mean time, I ignored Binns' prolonged speech about the History of Magic, instead choosing to slump on my desk in boredom. This was quite normal for me however, but any time he'd call on me, I'd still know the answer, genius that I am. I didn't need to pay attention to his lessons to understand. I glanced at Rosie next to me, who seemed to be the only one actually paying attention. She glanced from Binns to her paper and then back again, her red locks bouncing as she jotted some notes on her paper. Her blue eyes were wide, drinking in the knowledge, and she spoke the words she wrote.
"Mr. Malfoy!" Binns said cheerily, "You always know the answer,"
"Uh, what?" I asked, coming out of my daze as I sharply turned my focus from Rosie back to Binns.
"The answer, Mr. Malfoy." Binns grinned encouragingly.
"Right," I say weakly, "What, uh- what was the question?"
"I asked who wrote the History of Magic," He repeated, "Are you feeling okay, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Yeah, yeah, just fine." I say, "Bathilda Bagshot, sir."
"Thank you Mr. Malfoy! Bathilda Bagshot indeed! Now, as I was saying…" Binns continued and I tuned him out, groaning and hitting my head against the desk. This temptation was a little harder to resist than I thought.
"Scor," Al pops his head into the Head's dormitory, "Don't forget you have detention." I'd forgotten.
"Bloody hell!" I say, rolling off my bed and nearly crashing to the ground, "Great, I'm going to be late."
"Nah," Al says, "Rosie's stalling for you."
"Oh," I stop in the middle of tugging on my shoe, "That's nice of her."
"Well hurry then!" Al says, gesturing for me to continue getting ready.
"Right, right," I say, tugging on my other shoe and bolting out the door, Al in tow.
I end up getting there in under 2 minutes, just as Cromwell's turning around the hall to enter the room. I enter and close the door behind me, scrambling into my seat just as she opens the door. Rosie shoots me a wide grin and I can't help but smile in response.
"Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley," Cromwell begins, "Since Mr. Malfoy is not adept at making an adequate Babbling Beverage, he will be recreating one. Miss Weasley, since you are so insistent upon disregarding Library Regulations, you may shelf books in the Library."
"Professor Cromwell, Babbling Beverage requires two people and I am unable to reach some higher shelves in the library at my height, wouldn't it be easier to simply have to have the two of us do both together?" Rosie says, her words have just the right about of diplomacy and persuasion, so much so, that even I, the unswayable Scorpius Malfoy, find myself agreeing with her.
"Exactly, Professor Cromwell," I say, "Rosie's idea is ingenious, plus, I'm quite tall in order to reach the books and she's very good at Potions-"
"Alright, I suppose that will work. Potion first please," Cromwell says, regarding me with a skeptic eye, "Though I do believe this is the first time I have ever heard you compliment someone other than yourself Mr. Malfoy, keep up with it and maybe people will think more of your character." She walks off without another word. I shouldn't have complimented Rosie, now Cromwell thinks I'm up to something, and Rosie, Rosie's probably going to-
She smiles shyly, blushing as she brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, "Thanks Scor," I should compliment her more.
"So," Rosie says as we mix the potion, "Too much Dittany?" I flush involuntarily, ducking my head down, and don't respond. Responding would be admitting a mistake, making my perfect image not so perfect after all.
"It's okay Scor," Rosie says gently, "You know, we all make mistakes. It's human error."
"But I don't!" I burst out against my will, "I've never messed up on a potion!"
"We've all gotta start somewhere, don't me?" Rosie jokes, but upon seeing my solemn face, she curbs her laughter, "Scor, let me tell you bluntly- you're not perfect."
"Oh, and I suppose you are?" I ask bitterly, glaring at her.
"Me? Perfect!? Far from it!" Rosie laughs, but sombers up quickly, "No, I didn't mean it like that Scor. I meant that no one is perfect. It's impossible. I know you think you are, and I think you're pretty dang close, but you're never going to be completely perfect. No one is." She stirs the potion, and continues, "You see, you dismissed the Dittany, right? But if another had done such a thing, instead of yourself, you'd regard them as imperfect and would never forget it." I had no idea just how she actually understood me, because I'd never told her this, and I hadn't told Al either so he couldn't have told her.
"Scor," She sighs, resting the spoon across the cauldron, "You don't need to be perfect. If you want to be close to it, then that's fine- but you can't look down at others for not wanting to."
"Oh," I say, and then not wanting to look stupid in front of Rosie, "I knew that."
She huffs, glaring at me, "Right. Why do I even bother, you're not even listening to me."
"I am!" I cry out feebly, "I just-" I shuffle my feet, "Why now? I was doing fine before. Why does it all have to go downhill now?"
"How am I supposed to know?" Rosie sends me a mystified glance, "Figure it out for yourself. It's like tracing back your steps when you lose something- trace back you steps to the reason you lost your focus." And so, I did. The real reason, arrogance and perfectness aside, I traced it all back. And I came to a very brief, very startling, very mortifying conclusion. I had never had a crush before, and the girl in front of me was my very first.