Divination was always my least favourite subject. Good God, why the hell did it matter what the tea leaves at the bottom of your teacup meant or whether or not your horoscope predicted a wonderful life for your sister’s husband’s chihuahua? Really, the only reason I kept up with the class was because it was fairly interesting to see who Professor Trelawney chose to die each year. This year, it was Rose Weasley. Charming little Rose Weasley, who was the best at every class, the prettiest girl in Gryffindor House--or rather, the entire school--a Chaser on the Quidditch team, and frequent detention attendee. How she managed to be all of these personas at the same time escaped me - especially how her detentions kept her at the top of the class. You’d think the teachers would mark her down for this…
…but no. Sweet little Rose could do no wrong. Well, except for the detentions.
As Professor Trelawney walked through the classroom, gasping at tea leaves and swooning at shapes she believed to have found in them, I talked quietly with my closest friend, William Taylor. Will was extremely quiet, the exact opposite of that bloody Weasley girl.
“Do you have any idea which of her admirers she’ll be going with tomorrow?” Will asked me, obviously referring to Rose and the Valentine’s Day Hogsmeade trip that was no doubt fast approaching. It was already February the thirteenth, although last time I checked it had been about three weeks ago, and peacefully--joyfully--January. I despised Valentine’s Day, and for good reason. It was just a day for those of us who were in a relationship to snog all day and for those of us who were single to feel worse about it than usual.
You can probably guess which category I was in.
I shrugged. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
Will shrugged as well. “Just figured you might.”
“Well, I don’t. Shit, Trelawney’s coming.” I quickly downed my cup of tea, and Will did the same. We slammed the tiny cups back down on the table with enough force that they should’ve broken; fortunately, they didn’t. We simply earned a disapproving glance from the professor, and quickly began analyzing the dregs at the bottom.
“I reckon mine’s a dragon,” Will muttered. “Nah, more like an umbrella.”
“How do you get a dragon confused with an umbrella?” I asked incredulously. Will tilted his cup in my direction, and I studied it. “Obviously, it’s a--” He cut me off by turning the cup about ninety degrees-- “Huh. What is it?”
Trelawney rushed over at the subtle sound of a question, and I cursed mentally. She picked up Will’s cup and scrutinized it briefly before replying, “I see a sword. Beware an argument with a friend in your future.” She then turned in my direction and swept my teacup into her hands. After only a few moments, she smiled at me. “This could be either a fork, or a guitar. The fork symbolizes diversion from a goal, and the guitar symbolizes love on the horizon. Perhaps you shall be distracted by a new love interest?” She raised her eyebrows and zipped away.
I looked at Will. “Now how the bloody hell did she see a sword in your umbrella-dragon?”
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
That night, our common room was silent. Normally, one would hear the pages of a book turning viciously, or the soft flickering of flames in the fireplace. Tonight, however, there was nothing to suggest that any disreputable person’s predictions might be about to come true. Will lounged in an armchair by the fire, his eyes closed and his breathing even. I sat on the opposite end of the room, staring blankly at a piece of parchment in front of me. I should’ve been writing home to Mum, tell her how sixth year was going. I hadn’t written a word to her since the beginning of January, and yet I was nearing the middle of February without word to home. Granted, they hadn’t written to me with anything necessitating a reply, so it didn’t completely fall to me. I twiddled a quill in my hand, debating how to start the letter.
Dear Mum.
Hi, Mum!
Hello, Mother.
Nothing was right.
My relationship with Mother was a bit strained, to say the least. We never quite saw eye-to-eye on things, sadly enough. Being a Slytherin when she was in school, she didn't really grasp some of my ideals the way I'd want her to, and so we didn't have a wonderful relationship. We were better than some families, but certainly not by much.
Will jumped up in the corner, giving a first-year quite a fright. “Scorpius!” he yelped.
I looked over, completely aware of the reason for Will’s fright; if he woke up abruptly out of a deep enough sleep, he would believe he was still dreaming. Should that dream be a nightmare, it would result in the loss of several hours’ sleep for me. “Yeah, Will?” I asked, still having not written a word of my letter.
Will took a deep breath. “Just a dream. Right, right. I mean, I knew you’d tell me if it was real…”
I must have looked confused, for Will simply shook his head. “Long story; don’t bother asking.”
“Well, of course I’m going to ask, seeing as it involves me,” I replied. “What was your dream about?”
Will looked sheepishly at the ground. “I told you, it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh, Will.” I sighed. “Is it that one about me making the Quidditch team and pushing you off your broom? Because I told you that I wouldn’t do that. Namely because I’m rather afraid of flying….” I trailed off.
“No, not that one,” Will said, dissuading my belief that this was about his recurring dream.
“Then what was it?” I asked, rather suspicious at his embarrassment.
“Promise me you won’t make a big deal out of it?” Will asked.
“’Course, Will.”
“I had a dream that you were dating Rose Weasley.”
I jumped out of my chair. “Excuse me? Will, you know that will never happen! I’m extremely insulted that you would even think that of me; have I not told you even the most trivial doings of my life since I’ve met you?”
Will sighed. “Scorpius, I know, it’s just…. Lately, you’ve been mocking her less than usual. You even look at her when she talks. It’s just, well, it’s making me feel like you’re hiding something from me.”
I shook my head. “Why are you so thick? Obviously, I’d tell you if I liked Rose that way. But I don’t like her that way. Or any way.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “I told you that I fancied Lily Potter, who’s two years below us. It’s rather selfish of you to not tell me about Rose.”
“There’s nothing to tell!” I exclaimed, finally raising my voice. Will’s eyes widened, and so did mine. I had never yelled at my friend before, even if we had been fighting. He glared at me and quickly walked up the steps to the dorm. I sunk back into my chair, sighing heavily. I had just yelled at my friend, something I had sworn I would never do.
I realised that I wouldn’t get anywhere thinking about it in the common room, so I stood up and quickly walked out the door. I needed to walk around the castle, have some time to myself to think about what had happened. If I could register what had made me feel that way about Will’s accusation, it would be that much easier for me to figure out a way to make it up to him.
I rounded the corner away from the tower, and found myself face to face with the redhead who had caused this entire commotion between my friend and myself. She looked at me, seeming puzzled. Her long hair hung a bit below her shoulders, pin-straight. Her blue eyes looked at me in a way that I just couldn’t place, and her robes were awry on her shoulders; there was a large spot on her shoulder that appeared to be sodden with water.
She caught my gaze traveling in that direction and laughed. “I just got out of detention; I had to clean the trophy room without magic. I spilled a bucket of water.”
I nodded, trying to suppress a laugh. It didn’t work, and I found myself laughing hysterically in the hallway. She looked confused for a moment, then ended up laughing along. After several moments, we both calmed down, and she looked at me.
“Why were you laughing?”
“I’m not sure. Why were you?”
“Because you were.” She smirked. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Just… out,” I replied. I wasn’t going to tell her that Will and I had gotten into a fight; that wasn’t something I would tell a total stranger.
Although she wasn’t a stranger. I had known her since before we started school, before we had even understood the magnitude of this world we were in, and the consequences that made it what it was. We had known each other practically since birth, or at least since the year following it. I was about seven months older than her, and I first met her when I was two years old, when our parents got together for a Survivors of the Final Battle dinner at the Potters’ house.
She grinned. “So I guess it’s not something you want to tell me. I’ll guess. Is it… detention?” When I shook my head, she continued. “A girl?” I shook my head again. “A boy?”
I couldn’t help it; I burst out laughing again. She laughed along, our voices melting into a harmony. As we slowly quieted down, I began to think. Why had I always hated her? Perhaps it was because of the fact she was everything I wasn’t: smart, attractive, athletic. She appeared to have everything, almost a walking cliché. Except she wasn’t. Talking to her, just hearing her voice, I could tell that everything Will and I had always assumed was wrong.
“Rose?” I asked slowly. “What’s wrong? Inside, something is. What is it?”
Rose looked at me, her head tilted to the side. “What makes you think that?” she asked.
“You act so superior, but I think you feel inferior. You seem like you know that everyone loves you, but you don’t want them to. You’ve got that disposition that makes it obvious something’s wrong, and you try to hard to cover it up. What is it?”
She blinked. “My parents.”
I looked at her. “What do yours do?”
“They ignore me.”
I could picture it. Her dad was busy helping her uncle with his shop and her mum was intense about her job at the Ministry. It’s easy to see that she was struggling to impress her mother with her grades and her father with Quidditch, then her brother with her detention record. She lived in a world of competition, where everyone was better than their sibling.
“Have you ever talked to someone about that?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Mum’s job is so prominent that anything against her makes it to the news straightaway. Dad’s in no mood to talk about anything serious, even though it’s been almost twenty years since Uncle Fred. Hugo’s always getting in trouble, and none of my friends are close enough to me that I’d feel comfortable talking to them about it.”
“This is almost the first we’ve ever talked,” I said. “Why do you feel at ease talking to me about it?”
She took a step forward. “I feel like you’d understand,” she whispered. “I feel like you get it.”
Without any response, I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, almost surprised at how instinctive it felt. I had hated this girl all my life, so why did I find myself in this unexpected--enjoyable?--position?
Rose pulled away before I could fully register my feelings, although I probably should’ve been able to, and she simply stared at me. She tilted her head to the side. “What…?”
I shook my head, turning around. I slowly began walking down the hall, then broke into a run when I reached the end of the corridor. I definitely needed to tell someone about this. Will was the obvious choice.
Then I remembered our fight. With that recollection came that of Divination class earlier, and I became more aware than I had wanted about how much Trelawney had got right. Will’s tea leaves came true in our fight, and then mine did in Rose. I had been distracted from my fight--and my goal being to fix it--and then the startling feelings I felt upon seeing her.
Shit, maybe Trelawney was right about more than one thing.
In that case, Rose should be frightened. She might really die now!
Sweet Love O' Mine by ringobeatlesfan4
Chapter Notes: Story title, chapter title, and lyrics found in the summary all belong to the band Guns N’ Roses, from their song Sweet Child O’ Mine, which may just be the best piece of music ever written.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks for reading! Wanna review? Please? {BeccA}