Chapter rated T for language and mildly suggestive themes.

Chapter 3: What Goes Around

"Rose, wait up."

I turned around and saw Hadley coming toward me. Albus gave me a look as if to say "should I stay?" and I nodded to indicate that he could go on ahead.

I didn't want to talk to Hadley. I didn't want to have to nail it into his thick fucking skull—like I always had to do for everything—that yesterday had meant absolutely nothing. That he meant absolutely nothing. That it was all a stupid ploy to make his girlfriend see the real person that he was. Because that was the problem with Hadley. Even after he had cheated on me with her, he had been so goddamn sweet. He had apologized and taken the blame and told me how perfect I was and how any guy would be lucky to have me. He had tried to twist everything to make it seem like really he was actually doing me a favor. I was better off without him, wasn't I? We were no good together, right? I deserved better.

At first I had believed it. I had told myself that Hadley was right. It wasn't really his fault because we weren't compatible—we wanted different things.

It had really only taken seeing him snogging her in the hallway one time to convince me that he was a pathetic, cowardly liar, and that if it was the last thing I did, I would make him pay for what he did to me.

Damn right, I deserved better.

"What do you want, Hadley?" I said without looking at him as he rushed up to walk beside me.

He grabbed my elbow and turned me around, making me gasp at the unexpected contact.

"You, baby," he said in a low voice as he took me by the elbow and pulled me into an empty classroom.

Before I could do anything, his mouth was attached to mine and he had me pinned up against the door of the classroom.

I felt bile rise in my throat. It was odd because I could remember back to fifth year when Hadley doing anything like this to me would have been exciting and stimulating. I would have been giggling and pulling him closer. I remembered how kissing him and inhaling his scent had driven me crazy, and now the only affect it was having on me was a nauseating one.

I pushed him off.

"What's wrong?" he said, trying to bury his face in my neck.

"You," I said moving so that I was no longer pinned against the door. He turned around to face me.

"Are you worried about Meg?"

I gasped. "How dare you—don't ever say her name… in my presence," I hissed. Even after a year, even after what I'd done to them, the acknowledgement that Meg was something—this entity—that existed in between me and Hadley was too much. Seeing her in my dorm was hard enough, but him acknowledging that she mattered—that was too much to bear.

"Sorry—what—I… We broke up."

I arched an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because I… I miss you… I want to be with you."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "You want what you can't have."

"What—"

"You didn't want me a year ago," I said. I tried to make my voice sound low and dangerous so he knew I was serious. I tried to keep the quiver out of my voice that would betray the fact that that pain was still so prevalent. The pain of being tossed aside like I was nothing. "In fact, you didn't want me so fucking much that you cheated on me with—her."

"I—That was different."

I laughed loudly and shrilly. I didn't even recognize the sound coming out of my own mouth. "Oh, now that my tits are more noticeable and I snog you on trains—what—you… you think I'm going to fuck you?"

His eyes widened noticeably

"I—"

"Because that was why you broke up with me, right? Because I wouldn't open my fucking legs for you like she would?"

"Rose—"

"I would never be with you again. Ever. Not—not if you were the last fucking prick on earth," I said taking a step closer to him. He was taller than me, so I had to look up. When I spoke again, it sounded eerily like a growl. "The only reason that I—put my mouth anywhere near yours last night was so that that bitch would see—see you for the… lowlife that you are."

Hadley look dumbfounded. Of course he doesn't get it. He would never get it. He would never understand me or anything he had done. He had made me this way. That was the irony of it all. He had given me the taste for blood, and now he was surprised that I was coming back for more.

He opened his mouth and closed it several times before he managed to speak. "You planned that?" he finally said.

"Of course I planned it, you asshole. How could you possibly think I would want anything to do with you after what you put me through."

Hadley ran a hand through his sandy hair and turned around. I watched him with a tilt of my head. God, this felt even better than I had imagined it would. Watching him squirm, realizing that this time he was the fucking fool. Not me. That this time he wasn't going to have his fucking cake and eat it, too. That this fucking time I wouldn't be the one left with nothing. That this time I had taken control of my destiny. It was honestly laughable that he thought I would ever get back with him. I despised him. Didn't he see that?

"How could you do this?" he said, turning back to me, his eyes frantic. "Fuck, Rose!"

"Oh, fuck you, Hadley," I said angrily. "Don't act so fucking surprised. After the shit you did to me—"

"That was over a year ago!"

"And over a year ago, I did nothing to fight for myself. I—I let you make a fucking fool of me." I took another step toward him so that we were only a foot from each other. "You fucked her and made me feel bad for being a—a virgin—and now you have the nerve to be upset because you finally got what you fucking deserved." I scoffed. "That's hilarious."

"You're such a bitch," he said quietly. "Everyone in this school hates you."

"Are you serious?" I said, mocking sadness. "What am I going to do?" I put a mocking hand to my chest. "Oh, geez, everyone hates me because I finally decided to stick up for myself. I'm heartbroken."

"You—"

"Have a nice life, Hadley," I said before walking out of the classroom and slamming the door shut behind me.

I rushed out of the room and down the hall, knowing—at least, hoping—he wouldn't follow me and desperate to breathe. What did I just do? I felt giddy as I rushed down that corridor.

"Fuck," I breathed when I was down the hall and around the corner. I leaned against the wall and smiled. My heart was racing and my blood was pounding with adrenaline. That felt amazing. I had known it would feel good. I had known I would get incredible satisfaction seeing the look on his face after I revealed that he meant nothing to me… But this… This… How was it possible that it felt even better than I had ever imagined? Because I had imagined it feeling pretty fucking good. But this… It was better.

After a few more moments of reveling in what I had just done, I pushed myself off the wall, and walked down the corridor, a smile still on my face. As soon as I turned another corner, I ran straight into a tall, firm mass.

"Fuck—"

"Ms. Weasley."

I could feel my neck and chest heat up at the sound of the voice. "I—oh—sorry, Professor. I—"

"Are you all right?"

Christ, he was standing so close that I could smell him. He smelled like soap and coffee and cinnamon, and I had to stop myself from closing my eyes and inhaling. What the hell was my problem? Stupid fingertips!

"Fine," I said, my voice a gasp. And with a nod, he walked passed me. I had to stop myself from bending over to clutch my knees and catch my breath. My neck felt so hot, and my blood was still pumping from my encounter with Hadley.

After a few more seconds of leaning against the wall and taking a few deep breaths, I took off down the hall at a run.

"Albus."

My voice was muffled against his chest as he embraced me.

"Albus…"

He held me tighter and laughed. I could feel the rumble in his chest.

"Albus! You're suffocating me!"

He pulled away, his hands gripping my shoulders as he looked at me with a broad grin. "I'm just so happy." He grabbed me and squeezed me again and I laughed with him this time.

When he pulled away, he sighed. "I just can't believe I'll never get to see the look on that stupid idiot's face when you told him that you planned it all." He laughed giddily and I tried to give him a strange look through my smile. I had never seen Albus like this before.

He exhaled and took my hand, leading me to a spot on the couch near the fire in the Slytherin Common Room. We sat down facing each other. Me cross-legged, and him with one leg bent up on the couch and his arm draped across the back.

"Show me again," Albus said with a grin.

"Albus!"

"Show me what he did, please, Rose. I need another good laugh."

I sighed, smiling. This was the fourth time he was making me reenact how Hadley had reacted. The faces I made changed and got more ridiculous every time. I had to admit I liked it. It felt good making fun of Hadley to Albus instead of crying to Albus about him. And it felt really good that Albus was so happy about Hadley's misfortune. This was why Albus was one of the few people I genuinely liked at Hogwarts. He was always on my side.

After a moment, I made the stupidest face I could muster. My eyes were wide and crossed, my mouth was hanging open, and my chin was jutted out.

"You planned that?" I said in a dopey voice.

Albus roared with laughter.

"Will that ever get old?" he said after he caught his breath.

"Oh, no way," I said, grinning so much that it hurt. "I'm going to be riding this wave for months."

Albus laughed again and put his head in his hands for a second before coming up and smiling.

"I really am really happy for you, Rosie."

I hated when my family called me that. But in this moment, nothing could upset me. I smiled wider.

"I still wish you would have let me beat the shit out of him back in fifth year though."

I rolled my eyes. "I swear, when will you and James and Hugo get over that?"

Albus just laughed and shrugged.

"Oh, speaking of James," Albus said excitedly. "I flooed with him today and guess what he said?" I just shrugged, urging him on. "Did you know that Malfoy was here when we were here?"

I frowned. "Wait—what do you mean?"

"I mean that when we were first years and James was a second year, Scorpius Malfoy was a sixth year."

"Holy shit," I murmured. "I can't believe we didn't recognize him."

"I know," Albus said. "I can't believe I didn't. He was captain of the—er—Slytherin Quidditch team his seventh year." He shook his head. "I knew I should have gone out for the team earlier."

"Yeah, maybe then Slytherin would have stood a chance against Gryffindor."

Albus narrowed his eyes at me. "Anyway," he said. "He was in my damn house and I didn't even recognize him. You'd think I would have because my fucking hormones were raging second year."

My eyes widened slightly. "I remember," I muttered.

"So," Albus said, ignoring me. "James told me that Slytherin was crazy that year about Quidditch. He said that Malfoy and the captain of the Gryffindor team got in a fight on the middle of the pitch over practice times getting mixed up—like, they were pummeling each other—even though it turned out Slughorn had double booked by accident—but anyway—James said that Slytherin ended up losing and that Malfoy wasn't seen in the castle for two weeks after that. Said he almost failed all his N.E.W.T.s because of it." I rolled my eyes. Sore losers. "So I was thinking our prank on Malfoy should have something to do with that loss."

My eyes widened as a grin spread across my face. "Aw, Al, we might make the poor baby cry," I said with mock sympathy.

"Since when have you ever cared about that?" he responded with a smirk.

"Oh, never," I said with a small shrug. "So, what will we do?"

Albus smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

A little over an hour later, I was heading up to my dormitory to grab my ukulele and my violin. We were going to have band practice tonight and prepare our set for the concert in less than two weeks. Albus and I had a pretty good plan for what we were going to do to the new professor, and I couldn't wait. It was a harmless prank compared to some of the other shit I'd pulled in the last year, but it would be enough to haze the new prof.

I took the stairs two at a time up to the dormitory and barged in unceremoniously. As soon as I did, I heard someone gasp and cough, and I looked over to find Megaera Bloodworth, sitting on her four-poster, her face red, wet, and splotchy. She looked like she'd been reading something before I came in. Now she was just staring at me.

I didn't say anything to her. I just walked over to the edge of my bed and started digging in my trunk for my things.

"I bet you feel really good about yourself," Meg's hoarse voice came from across the room.

I tensed. My heart started to race. In that moment, I was recalling two things. I was recalling the day I'd found Meg and Hadley together. They'd been sneaking around for weeks. Someone had sent me a note late one Thursday night that said to go to the old classroom next to the statue of the ghoul on the fourth floor. It was written in Hadley's handwriting, so I'd smiled and snuck off, thinking that we would snog in the classroom for a while. It wasn't until I'd gotten to the classroom when I realized it was a note Hadley had sent to Meg, and that someone had snuck it under my covers so I could catch them.

I'd screamed. I remember nearly blacking out from the anger and pain that I felt. I'd immediately started swinging my fists at Hadley—whose pants were halfway down his ass—and it wasn't until he was able to wrap his arms around me from behind to control the blows that I stopped. Then I'd wrenched myself from his arms and ran. I ran so far and for so long—I ran blindly with no sense of where I was going. When I finally reentered the world, I realized that I had run through the castle and into a secret passageway that led to Hogsmeade. When I climbed out of the entrance and into the Hog's Head, Aberforth Dumbledore had swallowed me into his arms as I continued to sob. He'd guided me into a back room without saying a word. He brought warm butterbeer and stoked the fire while I curled up on his couch and cried and cried, trying to sip butterbeer in between my sobs. Eventually my dad had come—obviously Aberforth had flooed him or something—and he'd thanked Aberforth, lifted me into his arms and apparated me back to our house in Godric's Hollow where we lived down the block from my aunt and uncle.

My dad hadn't said anything as he walked me up the stairs of our house and laid me in my bed. I'd fallen asleep almost instantly, but I'd had a restless sleep—the image of Hadley and her imprinted on my mind.

The second thing I was recalling as I felt Meg's eyes on me was waking up one morning two weeks later back in my four-poster at Hogwarts—my father had brought me back after I'd stayed the weekend—and the resolution I'd come to. I'd cried for two straight weeks. I'd become a zombie. I would wake up, cry, get ready while crying, eat breakfast, cry, go to class, and then go back to my dormitory to cry. Meg always left before I woke up and came back after I went to sleep. But that morning I'd woken up and I decided I wouldn't cry anymore. I decided that no one would ever do to me what Hadley and Meg had done to me again. No one would ever make me feel worthless or pathetic or used ever again.

When Meg said those words to me, I could feel the familiar feeling of the rage I'd felt that day and the cool resolve of that morning weeks later.

Despite the resolution I'd made over a year ago and the person I'd become since then, the rational part of my brain came through and spoke to me. Don't respond. Nothing good will come.

I'd found my ukulele and my violin but I couldn't find my fucking violin bow. I just needed to get it and get out of this room before something terrible happened—terrible for Meg.

I dug ferociously through my trunk when I heard her speak again.

"I'm talking to you."

I blinked slowly and kept digging as I responded. "You don't want to do this, Meg," I said in a low voice.

"Do what, exactly?"

I whipped my head to her. "Compare fault," I hissed venomously. "You don't want to talk about who exactly wronged who."

"I—"

"I swear to god, Megaera, if you say one more fucking word you will regret it."

Finally—thankfully—I found my bow. I grabbed my things and went to leave the room.

"Why did you do it?" Meg asked quietly when my hand was on the doorknob. I felt my hand shaking. I could swear that my heart was going to leap out of my chest it was hammering so hard.

I paused. I contemplated not answering—walking away and letting her fester in her own self doubt the way I had done. But I couldn't. I absolutely couldn't just walk away without saying something. She had to know. She had to know that the only person she had to blame was herself—for what she'd done to me, for falling for Hadley's stupid bullshit, for believing in something that wasn't real, was never real—she had to know.

I spoke with slight hesitation. "I wanted to ask you that question every day for months," I said. My voice was a growl.

"I—"

"Meg," I warned. She had no idea the hell I would unleash.

But she just wouldn't shut up. God, she just kept talking, and she had no idea that I was on the edge of a cliff—that if she said one more word, I'd lose it. "I did it because I loved Hadley. I'd loved him for years, but he was with you. Everyone knows that you hate Hadley now… Which means that you only did this to get back at me. You don't have feelings for him, you don't want to be with him—you just hate us both."

"You're damn right I hate both of you," I said suddenly—sharply—the volume of my voice rising. Rose, I said to myself. Don't do this.

"We loved each other—"

Fuck it, I thought. She asked for it. "You idiot," I said quickly and breathily. I couldn't hold back. Not anymore. I'd been holding back for a year, and she had to know. "He didn't love you—he wanted to fuck you. He was sixteen-years-old and his girlfriend wouldn't put out, so he turned to the easiest slag that he knew, and everyone knew that that happened to be you." Her mouth fell open. "You're a bloody fool if you think Hadley ever loved you. He was waiting until he thought I would be willing to have sex with him"—I scoffed—"he was ready to drop you like you were nothing the moment he thought I'd open my legs like you so. Willingly. Did."

"Oh, my god," Meg whispered, horrified.

"You can blame me all you want. Because I sure as hell blamed you—and him. But your blame and hatred is completely… irrelevant to me. You put me through hell, and for a year you thought you got away with it. You watched me cry myself sick for weeks, and you couldn't even bring yourself to say sorry—" I was horrified when my voice cracked.

Because it was true. After everything she'd put me through, she'd never felt remorse. She watched me suffer and did nothing. She never even thought to fucking apologize.

"Rose…" Meg tried. Her anger and indignation had changed to… sadness… regret?

"Go to hell, Meg," I said after I cleared my throat. "And feel free to take that bastard with you."

As I slammed the door behind me and rushed from Gryffindor tower toward the Room of Requirement where we had our band practice, I felt an array of emotions. I felt pity for Meg who had to go through the same realizations I went through—that Hadley Underwood was nothing but a bastard who would screw anything with legs—and I felt giddy. I couldn't decide which encounter—Meg or Hadley—had felt more liberating.

"What are you grinning about?" Albus asked me when I got into the room. He was tuning his guitar while Lysander was hitting his drumsticks across his set absently.

"I'll tell you later," I said quickly. "Where's Nate?"

Albus just rolled his eyes as if it wasn't worth his time to respond.

"The kid is perpetually late," Lysander said, stopping with his warm up and regarding me. "You look weird," he said as he narrowed his eyes.

I laughed, adrenaline making it sound strange in my ears. "I'm fine," I said as I tapped my wand to my throat to amplify my voice a bit.

A moment later, Nate came tumbling into the room with his keyboard in his arms and his bass strapped around his back. Nathaniel MacMillan was a strangely handsome guy—tall, with dark wavy hair and trendy, horn-rimmed glasses. His family had also known the rest of ours for a long time—since our parents were in school. He'd grown up in the heart of London and all of the trends had worn off on him. When he wasn't in his school robes, he almost always wore cardigans and blazers and expensive jeans and slacks. Albus and I were also pretty fashionable—we went shopping together every time we were home on holiday (Lysander always wore old t-shirts and jeans)—but Nate's style was just different… casually disheveled… carefree, effortless.

He was a Hufflepuff and was always late to everything we did, and it was almost always because of our cousin Lucy. Even though Lucy had frizzy red hair, an insane number of freckles—which was saying something coming from me because I was fucking covered in freckles—she didn't care at all about her appearance, she looked like her dad instead of her pretty, blonde mom, and she could hardly carry on a normal conversation, Nate was enamored with her. If I wasn't so confused by it, I might find it sweet.

"Sorry," Nate said, out of breath. "Lucy needed help with her homework."

I rolled my eyes as Albus said, "Is that what they call it these days," without looking up from his tuning.

"Gross," I muttered as Lysander started a drum rhythm. "Let's go!" I shouted, and we started to play.

Next chapter:

Rose runs into someone slightly unexpected in the locker rooms.