Thank you to Morzan's Elvish Daughter! She is my only reviewer—come on, you lot!
That left a full day of classes, three of which were with Malfoy…Scorpius?...no, definitely Malfoy. For a moment, entering Transfiguration, I wondered if I was supposed to sit with him or something, then kicked myself mentally and took my normal seat. Nothing happened that day. We still didn't talk. But from time to time I glanced at him as I always did, and from time to time our eyes met as they always did, and I saw his face stretch into a little half-smile each time.
And during lunch, I went to the Owlrey to send a letter I'd composed during class to my parents. On a hunch. Just a short letter, about Draco Malfoy's Sorting, and about a bit later, but mostly the Sorting.
You see, I'd assumed over the years, as had everyone else in my large extended family, that since Scorpius Malfoy was identical to his father, they were the same. But Dad (and Mum, to a certain extent, but Dad's had more to do with him being a slimy git) would tell stories, and so would Uncle Harry, and they didn't seem to fit Scorpius.
I just wanted to be sure.
I also managed, over the course of the day, to avoid Emma, who was probably still horrified that I'd turned down Garrett Drake. God. But there was no way I could hide from her in the dormitory, and there she cornered me. And apparently, she had forgiven me for having 'no taste in dates.'
"So, Rose, d'you want to meet me and Leah at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow?" Emma, in all her annoying ignorance, asked me. Leah was a Hufflepuff, and considered me (as I considered her) a casual acquaintance at best, but she and Emma lived in the same town and were good friends at home.
"Um, no, I'm, um…um…busy," I mumbled lamely, unintentionally opening myself up for the Spanish Inquisition.
"Oh, come on, Rose, you can't get away with that. Not with me. Spit it out, what are you doing? And does it involve a boy?"
"Why would it involve a boy? God, everything is romance with you, Em. I'm catching up on some homework," I said in what I hoped was a convincing tone.
I failed. "Rose Weasley has gotten behind on homework? Call the Daily Prophet," she snorted. "Just tell me. I'll keep your secret, just tell me. Come on, Rosie, tell your best friend who your date's with." Emma looked at me, her brown eyes exaggeratedly huge and pleading, her lip trembling. I'd seen this expression before, it was a torture designed to make the hearts of hardened criminals melt and convince them to admit to their crimes. I opened my mouth, and at the last moment changed my mind.
"No I will not tell you," I blurted out before I could change my mind again. Emma's pitiful expression disappeared in a second, and she swung a pillow at me.
"You suck!"
It was an interesting sight that met the eyes of the other Gryffindor seventh-year girls when they came in half an hour later. I lay on the floor, surrounded by the feathers formerly contained within a busted pillow. Emma lay on her bed, still holding the deceased pillow, and we were both quivering with silent laughter. The best part—Emma had given up on her quest to desecrate my privacy.
I fidgeted with my appearance a bit more than usual the next morning, but finally, after snapping at myself far too many times and then reminding myself that it was just Malfoy, and therefore no big deal, and other similar things, I finally forced myself into a sweater and skirt and dithered even more with my uncontrollable red hair. Usually I wore it in a tight French braid to keep it well out of the way, but today…I twisted it into a messy knot and prayed it would stay there. Went down to breakfast. Ate mechanically. And finally, left the hall to wait for Malfoy.
Most of the school would be leaving right after breakfast, I knew. He hadn't said when he would meet me, but…I could practically feel each second passing. More and more people finished breakfast. Where was he?
People began to file past me out the doors and towards Hogsmeade. He still remained nonexistent. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen him in the great hall, either. Not that I'd been looking. Much.
Breakfast could no longer fairly be said to be ongoing. All that remained were a few first and second years, too young to go, and a tiny smattering of seventh years who'd seen it all before. No pale head. Nowhere could I see him.
Emma passed me, her arm linked with Leah's. They were chattering happily, and Emma waved to me where I stood with panic rising in my throat. For one thing, I looked like an idiot. For another…
…a little bit of me had wanted this.
Still another part of me wasn't surprised. Not even a little bit. And then I got angry.
Anger wasn't an emotion I was really that accustomed to, and it flooded me, sudden and burning and hot and overpowering. I couldn't even tell what I was really angry at, only that I wanted to rend something, to destroy it and possibly to make it feel pain… Instead, I started toward the library.
Halfway there, I stopped. I. Am. A. Loser. And turned around, my mind working mechanically through the faint haze of fury that still surrounded me. I'll go to Hogsmeade, I decided. I'll meet Emma and Leah, and if I see Scorpius Malfoy I will slap his pointy little face.
It was a satisfying plan, and I set off towards Hogsmeade.
I suppose that this chapter has a lot of inner world action going on and not a lot of outer world action, but perhaps you will still find it in your hearts to review. I mean, it isn't as if updates depend on it, because I'm just going to keep updating until I'm not allowed on the computer again. But if you want to review, please do.