Enveloped by the dark shadows, I watch her from the corner of the bar. She would never notice me, not from where she sits. I see her giggle, taking a sip from her drink and giving the bloke a small smile. I could tell he was trying to impress her, but I knew she was not interested. Not from the bored expression she sometimes gave, when he wasn't looking. Yeah, I notice. He’s looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar. I can’t help but make a low chuckle. She deserves so much better. She deserves me.
As the hour passes by, I watch as he finally gets the hint – she’s not truly interested in him. I see my opportunity to introduce myself as he leaves and she gives a relieved sigh.
Her eyes light up like a Christmas tree as we shake our hands. Her milky skin bare. No freckles. Odd. Her eyes a pale emerald colour and her hair in a soft red shade. Wrong. We talk, and I do my best to flirt with her, but I can’t help but notice, how awfully short her hair is. Just above her shoulders. It’s not feminine enough.
I ask to walk her home, and she happily agrees. Perhaps a little too eagerly. Not like the lady she should be. Despite my dismay, I take her arm in mine, and we walk outside, to the cool evening air. It is spring, so the snow is slowly melting away and the last of it crunches softly beneath our feet. I listen patiently as she babbles on about how much of a douchebag the other bloke was, and how different I am. Of course, I’m different. I’m better than he is. I’m better than anyone is. I begin to think that maybe she did deserve the douchebag after all. I don’t like criticizing women.
We finally reach her little cottage house, far from the village, out of sight. This pleases me, and I instantly feel myself relax.
She stops by her front door, and thanks me for walking her home. I can see she wants to invite me in, but at this point I had already lost my interest in her. She slowly leans in, tiptoeing as she tried to reach my face with her own. A breath, heavily scented by Butterbeer escapes her mouth, and I see her lips inch closer to mine. Her bare lips.
They weren’t the colourful red shade Rose always had.
I quickly wrap my hands around the girl’s neck, and squeeze as hard as I can. I look her in the eye, as she tries to free herself, making annoying gasps for breath. The burning hatred controls my hands as I squeeze even harder. I enjoy the sight of fright and terror in her eyes. You should have been more careful.
It didn’t take too long before she realized she was too weak. Clever girl. I drop her to the ground; she lands with a dull thump. Her eyes stare blankly into the air. I take one last look at her before I turn around.
I watch the stars as I walk back to the bar. What a beautiful night, such a shame I spent it on that girl. I can still feel the warmth of her skin on the palms of my hands. I feel a smile work its way at the corner of my lips. There is something beautiful about feeling the life of someone slip through your fingers. Almost magical. If only it had been the real Rose. My wild Rose.
I enter the bar, and order another drink and go back to the corner. I look at the other costumers, but just like earlier – they’re too oblivious to worry with who’s here or not, so I quickly finish my drink and walk up to the bar again. I discreetly take my wand, and point it towards the bartender, who is busy with loading new bottles of Fire Whiskey on the shelves. Swiftly, I remove his memory, and leave before anyone else notices me.
I groan loudly and throw the newest edition of the Daily Prophet on the table. Unexpectedly it glides across the table and knocks the white vase over the table's edge. With a loud smash, the dozen of red roses scatter across the floor.
I stare at the roses for a few minutes. They are a few days old, so they were slowly getting that burgundy nuance on the former blood red petals. My eyes travel back to the Daily Prophet's front page. The girl from two days before is smiling sweetly at me, with her long brown locks. Brown.
Her emerald eyes flash into my mind, and her clear skin, with no freckles. That’s why it felt wrong, because she was no true redhead. I groan again. How could I be so foolish? I have become so blind with my fantasy of ever-touching Rose again, that I get so careless with others. I need to be more careful from now on. I need to control myself, and stop being too impulsive.
Despite my mistake, I do not feel any regret on killing the girl. She was annoying, beautiful but not pure. She was not Rose.
I close my eyes, and I see her clear as day. Her thick, flaming red hair, with streaks of bright orange mixed into it. She’s laughing, dancing with her friends out on the Hogwarts grounds. Her milky skin, so pale and perfect, adorned with hundreds of freckles – on her sweet apple cheeks, her neck, and her arms. She glows in the sunshine, as always. Careless, no true worry in her life. Constantly happy, which makes her blue sapphire eyes sparkle. I want her innocence.
I was fascinated with her, in our younger days, and I still am.
Though I haven’t seen her since we graduated from Hogwarts, I still believe she hasn’t changed much, or I hoped she hadn’t. I open my eyes, and force myself to forget her, but as soon as I see the roses on the floor, my mind travels back to her. Like a bee to a flower, I cannot resist. As much as I love Rose, I hate her even more. I feel the bitter taste form in my mouth, as I remember how much she laughed when I asked her out on a date. I wanted her to be mine.
I remember how much her stomach hurt, from laughing too much, asking if I was serious. How could she not believe me? The most eligible male from the house of Slytherin, and the smartest witch amongst the Gryffindors. I was perfect. I am perfect. So is she.
I remember how I told her my threat. You will regret this. It has been five years now, and I still haven’t had the opportunity to make her regret it. Five years. Which is the reason to why I accidentally killed a red haired girl last year. An impulsive decision, like the two after that. Nevertheless, I cannot deny that it felt good.
It eased the pain in my chest, and the tingling feeling on my hands, aching to touch that perfect skin of hers. However, I knew that once the feeling of relief washed away, I would feel the need to find her erupt in my chest again. The need to make her regret. The need to make her fall in love with me; feel the heartache for more, questioning why she ever said no to me.
Yes. Those needs would come again, and perhaps I won’t be able to control myself anymore.
With a flick of my wand, I repair the vase and I make fresh, red roses. I gently touch the petals, and imagine Rose’s skin to be just as soft. My wild Rose.
I sigh, and get out of the living room. I walk the halls of the Malfoy Mansion, and five minutes later, I enter my bedroom. With another flick of my wand, a suitcase appears. I need to get away for a few weeks; I need to find a way of controlling my impulsive urges to lay hands on every girl with red hair.
Luckily, there are very few of them.
I enter the restaurant of the hotel that I’m staying at, Madam Crown’s Hotel. I quickly order a Butterbeer at the bar; I need something to make me relax.
The sun is shining through the floor-to-ceiling windows, almost blinding me. I take a sip from my fresh, cold Butterbeer, and look around. There aren’t many guests in this hotel, but then again, it’s not summer yet. The perfect timing for me, as it gives me a great opportunity to relax even more during my stay.
As my sight slowly adjusts to the bright sunshine, I notice a fine, young woman sit by the window, by herself. Her long, red hair covering her face, so I’m unable to identify her, but somehow I know who she is. She’s reading the Daily Prophet, the same edition as the one I threw across the table earlier today.
As if she's sensed me, she looks up and meets my eyes. It is Rose.
Finally, you’re mine.
So, here it is. Finally. The prequel to The Wild Rose.
I want to thank each and everyone of you, who read and reviewed TWR, and nominated it for a Dobby! I still can't believe it became a finalist!
You made me so happy, and this prequel is for you, as a thank you for your love and support.
I do hope this gives you some of the answers you needed, and as you may have noticed, this is written in a different style than TWR.
Beta-read by my fellow Slytherin, EnigmaticEyes16 @ the forums. Thank you so much, Nix!
Chapter image by me - apparition. @ TDA.
Track This Story: Feed
JOIN HARRY POTTER FANFICTION
Get access to every new feature the moment it comes out.Register Today!