So here's the scoop; this is in first person, Rose's POV, and all belongs to the loverly JK. So enjoy. :)
I’m going to die.
Literally. My sense of sight is going to shut down, then my sense of hearing, then smell, and then my brain is going to shut down. Which means my heart will and every other organ. And then I will die a slow, painful death.
And reckless cousins that just happen to be named Lily Potter sure have something to do with that!
I circled my right temple with my index and middle finger, feeling blood rush to my cheeks; I looked down, hardly capable of looking the idiot in front of me in the eye. If I died, I was taking him with me. No way I’m going to die alone – that’ll be my boggart come true, and I simply cannot have that. Especially so young; I’m only in fifth year, dammit!
Still unable to think, I let my body lean against the wooden door, fist uselessly pounding on it behind me. It was early in the year, mid-September, and absolutely the worst time for this to be happening, considering I have a Transfiguration exam tomorrow. But obviously Lily hadn’t taken that into account, for reasons that are far beyond me. She was probably enjoying the cool weather September had to offer, flying laps around the Quidditch Pitch now that she had shown me what wrath she could bestow upon me.
All I had done was dared her to snog that Ravenclaw bloke! She had absolutely no comprehension of the metaphor, ‘getting even.’ Locking me in a broom cupboard with Scorpius Malfoy is hardly getting even. Now we’re odd. Not even, odd. And it’s all her fault. I’m going to have to get her back later, which will only make the horrid cycle continue. It was a never-ending circle.
But, honestly, sometimes I just don’t get Lily. She’s so insane and wild that it almost drives me mad, and yet I can’t help but love her. She’s remarkable for being a ‘good snog’ or something of the sort and somehow finds locking me and the most idiotic imbecile in the school in the same cupboard humorous. Which is just stupid, because one, she’s not even here to see our reactions. Two, there may very well be one less Weasley in the family. And three…
It just. Isn’t. Funny.
End of.
Especially because I’m mildly claustrophobic.
I’m not so hot with the dark, either.
I uselessly turned the doorknob. Again, but with more force. “Malfoy, have a go, do it,” I grumbled, instructing him to try and open the door for the umpteenth time, moving aside and burying my head in my hands. By now, this was absolutely hopeless.
“Do you?” Scorpius smirked. “Gladly. Though I‘m not entirely sure how I‘ll get past the idiocy that is Rose Weasley, but I‘ll try.”
Okay, you know what? I’m not going to die. He is.
And I’m probably going to die in the process. I think my pulse just doubled. The idiot's like the males of the Potter-Weasley clan; he can make everything sound suggestive.
“Malfoy.” I raised my head, glaring daggers. He raised his hands in surrender, snorting, and moved through the tight space and tried to open the door too.
Nothing. I can’t say I’m surprised.
I tried to regain an even breathing rate. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Because in these sorts of problems, at Hogwarts, you can’t even get lucky enough to breathe normally. Of course not. Because THAT’S out of norm. I slid down the wall and pinched the bridge of my nose, reddening cheeks paling along with the rest of my skin. I ignored it. “Try harder,” I demanded in a sharp exhale.
“Try harder to breathe, Weasley,” Scorpius countered, sounding annoyingly amused. I couldn’t see his expression through the darkness of the broom closet, but I could just imagine the irritating curve of his lips.
“Are you criticizing my breathing?” I snapped, looking up at him with a glare.
He took out his wand and murmured an incantation, and a bit of light came from the tip. He frowned, asking, “Are you sick?”
“Of you? Definitely.” I tried not to smirk, proud with my response.
He rolled his chilling blue eyes. I can’t remember ever looking straight into them. They’re rather hypnotizing. “You’re pale.”
“I am?” I tried not to groan, but it came out. Not because I was looking pale, but because I felt so… trapped. Like I was stuck. What if I was stuck in such a tiny place forever? There was hardly enough room. I placed my hand on my forehead and found it cold, before I wrapped my arms around my knees and pulled them closer to my chest.
“And now you’re in the fetal position. My charm too much for you, Weasley?”
“Shut up and open the fucking door!”
This is what Scorpius Malfoy does. He makes me swear. Mum would be so disappointed. I ran a hand through the bird’s nest I had for hair, thanks to the remarkable bushy-hair trait of the Grangers, inhales and exhales becoming more pronounced as they took more effort.
He laughed at me – I wanted so bad to wring his neck – and leaned against the opposite wall. “You should learn to relax,” Scorpius stated.
Git. “You should learn how to not be a git,” I lamely replied, despite the fact that he wasn’t being quite as much of an idiot as usual. Probably enjoyed watching me freak out while he was all calm. I stood up and lightly banged my head against the wall. “We’re stuck,” I moaned. “I’m going to kill Lily.”
I don’t get how she had randomly decided to put me in this closet anyway. Seriously, I was just arguing with Malfoy – I swear he took my quill! – and we just happened to be standing in front of a broom closet. Then she bloody pushed us in and magically locked it. Leaving us stuck until somebody from the other side decides to be a good person and open it for us.
And we all know how many good people there are in Hogwarts.
Oh yes, between Malfoys, Zabinis, troublemaking and guiltless (not to mention completely void of a conscience) Potters and Weasleys, Hogwarts is full of the selfless, kind, and of course the conscientious.
Even I have to laugh at that one.
Healthy color flooded my skin for a moment as my mirth tinkled the air. Scorpius raised an eyebrow at me like I was suffering from mild insanity. I finished with a giggle and an annoyed, “What?”
“You’re barking mad, Weasley.”
I wrinkled my nose. “What makes you think that?”
“I knew it the moment I saw you babbling about Felix Felicis in first year, you insufferable know-it-all, and slapping Potter for making fun of your damn hair – which, really, is a bush in disguise –,” he snickered until he saw my glare – “that you were barking mad. Not to mention extremely immature and have hair worse than your blood.”
I’m not the mad one, firstly. I think he’s talking about Lily. Not me. LILY. Why is the spotlight on me when it should be on Lily? And secondly, who the hell gave a damn about blood anymore?
Yeah, only a Malfoy.
Screw him.
Again with the swearing. Mum says a Malfoy shouldn’t affect me this much. Yeah, well, screw her too. But… she’s right. And I know it. I knew *I couldn’t let him have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy.
“O-Okay, y-you know what?” My voice was shaky, just like my body, now that all traces of entertainment had left me. Now I was just scared of hell of being so… enclosed. The walls were going to get closer and closer to Scorpius and I and just crush us, somehow I just knew that. It was irrational, yes, but… ugh. “You’re a bloody im-imbecile. You’re arrogant, obnoxious, and have really stupid eyes.”
The proximity was not doing good things to my mind, to say the least.
Or maybe it was the pumpkin juice? It tasted funny this morning…
…
Oh my God.
James spiked my pumpkin juice! I just know it! He’s siding with Lily! Stupid protective older brother! Idiotic sixth year! Stereotypical Gryffindor! I knew I saw him do something! That vial in his hand looked fishy!
And I don’t like fish.
I’m a vegetarian.
Shit, shit, shit… flying shit.
No flipping wonder why I’m like this today.
And no flipping wonder why I just said that out loud.
Fuck, it’s kicking in…
“Your Pothead cousin spiked your pumpkin juice?” Scorpius snorted, letting out a loud laugh. “Like that serves an excuse. You’re always this insane. Not this much of a potty mouth though.”
I know he was exaggerating about my insanity – it really doesn’t show that often – but it was still rather insulting. Especially since I felt pretty small, still on the ground. I’m like half his size standing up anyway at just a couple inches past five feet, but still. Standing would be the slightest bit better, but I don’t trust myself to do so and not fall from dizziness.
It was annoying when people called the Potters ‘Potheads,’ too. Get some originality!
“Potter, if you will,” I started curtly, surprised to find a hint of a pur in my tone. I bet that was straight rum in my juice. I’m killing him later. I learned that new hex… oooh, he’s so dead… “I think you should be calling yourself a pothead. Maybe it’d excuse you’re… well, Malfoyness. You know that means bad fate in Latin? Mal – bad. Foy – fate.” James is dead later. I just… ugh. I know I tasted alcohol in that drink (I recognized it from the Christmas party last year) but it did taste awfully good. That’s why I probably ignored it.
…shit.
I know what happened last year at the Christmas party.
I learned something about myself.
Something about myself that was – hell, is – extremely humiliating. I wanted to curl into a ball and let the floor swallow me whole that day.
My stomach tightened. I tried to disregard it. If I thought about it, it would happen. So I pushed it out of my mind, but the discomfort remained, alcohol flowing through my veins freely. The other discomfort from the tiny space I was forced in battled it, otherwise I was sure my cheeks would be as red as my name and I’d be giggling madly. Just like last year.
Fuckkk, cousins suck.
They make me use that word, too. Grandma Molly would whoop my arse if she heard that.
“Weasley!” An incredulous cry rang in my ears, far louder than it had been spoken. I covered my ears with my hands, releasing my knees though they remained crammed against my chest. I flinched. “Are you bloody crying?”
I always was an easy crier. Dad never let that go. Hugo never let that go. James never let that go. And I knew Malfoy wouldn’t let it go, either.
I swear, I think I have some tear duct disorder or something like that. How could this situation make my eyes water? Well, that is, without being dramatic. I took a huge intake of air, the oxygen rushing through my nostrils, and I stood up, trying to regain my balance and letting out a bit of a squeak when I lightly bumped into the wall that was far too close for me. Either this place was shrinking, or I was getting bigger. Or I was going insane.
“Fuck yeah I am!” I affirmed, nodding. I blinked repeatedly, trying to make the water welling in my eyes to evaporate, but instead the tears fell on both sides of my cheeks, making a trail across my skin. Damn it. He wouldn’t have as much influence over me as usual. No, sir. I wanted the control. I hate losing it, but somehow it always seems to find its way out of my grasp. And it was positively sickening, knowing you lacked control over the problems you’re placed in. Especially when those problems usually somehow involve your damned family, that for reasons that will probably be forever unknown, you love.
“I am crying, motherfucker!” This is why I don’t drink alcohol. I’m nearly completely intolerant to it. And it gets worse later, too; I’m not just a crap-mouth. “Because I can’t take your snooty little nose and your snooty little headand your FUCKING YOUNESS! And I can’t take this claustrophobia, either! I WANT THE WHEEL BACK, GIVE IT TO ME.”
I heard a murmur; “How much did Potter fucking put in your drink?!”
“AND I CAN’T TAKE MY FUCKING COUSINS, EITHER!” I added, aiming a weak kick at the door. There was barely an effect. “And most of all, THIS IS SO CLICHÉ. I’m in a broom closet with YOU! Of all PEOPLE! YOU A--”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence.
Three guesses why.
A hand tangled itself in the auburn mess that I like to call hair, and an arm wrapped around my waist. Before I could even process what was happening, Scorpius Malfoy’s lips were abruptly crashing down on my own. I could talk no longer, out of shock at the suddenness, incredulity, or bit of pleasure, I wasn‘t sure. My eyes fluttered closed but my hands remained loose at my side. My heart rate was faster than I could ever recall. My pulse was out of control. I could hardly think. I could hardly react. My actions were on impulse, absentminded -- my hand rose and toyed with his rather lovely hair, and another rested on his shoulder. He pulled me closer, and whispered against my lips, “Damn headstrong Gryffinor.” Scorpius locked our lips together again.
I forgot I hated him. I forgot I was basically drunk. I forgot he stole my first kiss.
The door opened. The door we had been struggling to open for Godric knows how long. Neither of us pulled away.
I barely heard a familiar voice after a few moments. “JAMES! Exactly how much rum did you put in Rose’s juice?” I broke away. I wasn’t fuming. The rosy color of my cheeks had paled again. My lips were whitening. A bitter taste of pennies tickled my tongue and my stomach lurched. Something burned my throat, makings its way to my mouth, and I took a step back, looking away from the questioning stare Scorpius gave me and the middle finger he was discreetly pointing at Lily.
“It was only a kiss,” I slurred weakly. “My FIRST.”
Want to know how I totally RUINED my first kiss? As if it wasn't already hellish enough?
I vomited all over Scorpius Malfoy’s expensive leather shoes (I blame mum; I inherited the alcohol intolerance gene from her!).
Mummy Malfoy’s going to have my head.
Oh my…
*Quote from Twilight.
This was my first shot at Next Generation, not to mention Rose/Scorpius. I’d love to hear what you think about it; positive comments, constructive crit and all!
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