Loosely based on My Best Friend's Wedding.
Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended. All recognisable characters/scenery belongs to J.K. Rowling.
She still looks the same – or maybe she's even prettier than before. Perfect straight, auburn hair. Perfect almond-shaped, caramel-coloured, innocent eyes. Perfect line of snow-white teeth showed off by a perfect bright, bedazzling smile. Perfect cheekbones, rosy tinted cheeks, not one freckle in sight. It's a really, really nice picture of her (although, admittedly, every picture of her is really, really nice) and the camera simply seems to drink her in. She's obviously confident and all-round happy as hell, and her giggling and winking gaze say it all. She's got it. Sunshine in one of those over-prized bags of hers. Lily Potter is one of the lucky ones.
It's nice to know some things never change.
Although they do, don't they?
Because next to Lily stands a boy – or should I say man now? He's tall, 6'1" if I'm not mistaken, but not sluggish. Definitely not sluggish. He's muscular but not too much. He's also extremely blond – blond to the point where you start wondering whether he charmed his hair – and he's got this nonchalant, messy cut that he constantly runs his hand through. He still has this haughty, supercilious lop-sided smirk that makes you want to strangle him and – well, fuck it – he's still gorgeous past all belief. Aristocratic model-face. That kind of beauty. Like a marble statue. So yeah; Scorpius Malfoy is one of the lucky ones as well.
That's still the same. That's the part that hasn't changed. Lily and Scorpius have always been part of the lucky ones. The only difference now, is that, well –
Now they're one of the lucky ones together.
On a bloody wedding invitation.
Honestly, this was a great day. I mean, I went to class this morning, got back a paper I handed in three weeks ago, and received a top mark. The professor even came to congratulate me in person, said it was marvellous and exceptional and that in the four years I'd been in this academy I'd proven myself to be a brilliant student again and again. After that my friend and I decided to go out to celebrate (any excuse a good one, I suppose) in a new Muggle club, and got our number asked five times. That's a funny thing, you know – "Can I have your number?" Because, hey. I don't have a phone. If it weren't for my grandparents on the Granger side of the family, I wouldn't even know what a phone was. But, what I'm trying to say; it was a great day.
Until the moment I Apparated home, stumbling, and had a familiar owl waiting on the windowsill.
Fancy envelope. Eggshell. Expensive material. I-M-P-O-R-T-A-N-T.
I didn't know what to expect, really. I was sort of drunk, euphoric, and truly content with who I was. I'm virtually never truly content with who I am, despite of what people seem to think of me. I'm a flawed person – you should know that. I may be 'brilliant' and perhaps even really pretty, but I'm flawed. And I own up to it. So yes; my insecurities often get the best of me and urges me to run. I love people and I love the world, but they frighten me all the same, and that's the issue. I tend to run. Away. From the ones I care about. I'm flawed. But tonight I didn't feel flawed and tonight I was ecstatic and tonight I got drunk and then –
Lily Luna Potter
and Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy
request the honour of your presence
at their marriage.
Blah, blah, blah.
I've never been sobered up so quickly in my entire life.
After I recollected my jaw from the floor, I tried to breathe. Because that had gotten kind of tricky. Do you know that feeling? That tightening of your throat that makes your supply of oxygen fall out, simply because you're so indescribably shocked? Yeah, well. I sat down in my couch, counted to ten, and waited anxiously for my family to pop out from under the table, or whatever, and yell out: "Surprise, Rose! We got you there, didn't we? Ha, ha!"
But it never happened.
And I'm still waiting.
Truth is, when I noticed the Malfoy owl sitting on the windowsill, I thought of many things. But a wedding invitation? Bloody hell. What a blow. A blow that feels like a fucking bullet that has just splattered all of my body substances over the place. Or like an avalanche raided over me, perhaps. You expect one flake (an apology for not writing me for so long, a reprimand for not writing him for so long), and out comes an entire snowpack (a wedding invitation).
Lily and Scorpius.
My cousin and the boy who was supposed to be my best friend.
I stare at the flames dancing in the fireplace. I haven't seen her in ages, and it must have been two years since he visited me here. America. New York City. Prestigious magical Law School. Exclusive and expensive. Only for the brightest. Yeah; to say I was happy that I got into this university would be the understatement of the century. I Apparated here almost as soon as I got the letter. I mean, it took me a while, seeing as it takes everyone a while to get the permission to Apparate that far. But still. I couldn't be gone fast enough. My parents were really proud as well. Claimed they'd miss me, but oh, well. The opportunity! The one chance! The greatness!
Scorpius was the only thing that made me reflect on the decision twice.
The thing was, we were inseparable. He and I. Scorpius and Rose. The Wizarding equivalent of Bonnie and Clyde. Best friends since our first year at Hogwarts – that kind of thing. And he loved me. Really loved me. Said he'd marry me one day because he was the only one that would ever put up with me for so long and vice-versa. Because he was beautiful and so was I. And because of that – that and all the other great things we shared – I didn't worry too much when I left. He'd write me and I'd write him, he'd visit me and I'd visit him, and of course, he would still love me when I returned.
His wedding is in eight days.
And he didn't even bother to tell me before everyone else.
I close my eyes, stop staring at the fire. With the invitation burning in my hands, I make a decision. I feel as if my heart's been ripped out from under my chest. I had a best friend that worshipped me – me above everyone else – and I ruined it. But he's still there. And he's wedding is in eight days. Which, consequently, means that I still have eight days. Eight days to turn this around. Eight days to unburden myself. Eight days.
And so, I make the decision to leave tomorrow.
To go home.
It's only a prologue, but feed me your thoughts!