Chaos is a name for any order that produces confusion in our minds
All the professors love her - how couldn't they? After all, she is the daughter of the brightest witch of all times. Her frequently raised hand and the obsessive need to squeeze in more hours of studying into the day is distinctly reminiscent of her mother.
Every time that freckled hand shoots into the air, McGonagalls' lips quirk in memory.
So she saunters into Charms, confident and prepared for today's lesson. She has spent the better part of the morning reviewing the reading.
Professor Flitwick beams at her before adopting the strict disciplinarian appearance again.
"What is the counter spell to Lumos?" he asks the class.
Her hand barely jerks up before a clear drawling voice speaks.
Her lips part in a rounded 'o' and she stares at the boy who has taken her place.
Platinum hair hanging around the pale face, he is smug as a few curious glances are thrown his way.
The professor turns his beaming face from Rose to Scorpius. The boy smirks.
"Can anyone name the Unforgivable curses?"
"Cruciatus, Imperius, Avada Kedavra"
A hand clutches onto her notes fiercely, an unpleasant feeling rising high inside of her. She leans forward, ready for the next question.
"The summoning spell, anyone?"
"Accio," he speaks clearly, the arrogant voice bellowing over her meek one.
She is stunned, speechless, and confused as the class filters out. Albus pats her arm. Still dazed, she follows her cousin, catching the bane of her existence move in her periphery.
He is sitting tall, drinking in the glory of getting so many points in one lesson. She moves by him.
His smoldering grey gaze fixes onto her for a moment, burning through her skin.
Bowing her head low, she pretends to search for a parchment as she leaves the room.
She tells herself that the hot churning in her belly is anger and frustration…and not the heavy gaze of the boy who beat Rose Weasley.
Her family was bustling, noisy and cheerful. She was the apple of her father's eye, the quiet pride in her mother's heart and a good friend to all her cousins.
She was cherished.
They gather, as they always do, joy spilling out from each of them. But the younger ones are distracted by a new visitor.
Albus brings his friend, Scorpius, as he has for several of their past get-togethers. Once mistrustful, her family embraces him into their abode.
Albus curves a brotherly arm around his friend, James's roaring laughter echoes as he teases the Slytherin, and Lily gazes at him in admiration.
There's an irritation, and a barely repressed curiosity abound in her.
All her cousins surround his aristocratic face and he's shielded from her view.
An inexplicable anger rises inside of her. Her cousins were too busy fraternizing with the enemy to care that she had hidden away from the crowd.
And he seemed none too displeased with the attention, blissfully unaware of her absence.
She grits her teeth and escapes away to a spot where the view is gone.
The voices, the yells, all pierce the silence every so often. But there is a soft noise that emits somewhere close to her ear.
Turning in surprise, she gapes at Scorpius's pleasant countenance, grey eyes twinkling in greeting.
"Hello," he says. Nothing more.
Mad, utterly mad that he has invaded her space - her world, she turns up her nose and returns to the crowd.
His eyes never leave her that night.
A perfect Prefect
She is a born leader, a natural choice for a prefect, and a shoe-in for Head Girl. The younger students often find themselves asking for her help, which she does.
She always knew best.
But tonight her lips turn down as her companion hums softly beside her. The blonde Malfoy is nonchalant, seemingly unaware of her frustration at having to patrol together.
Her mind races, trying to ignore her present state, and instead focuses on her exam tomorrow.
They turn the corner into a darker hallway, but her thoughts are centered on spells and charms.
Something scuttles along the floor, and she barely registers the black hairy creature before a scream rips from her throat.
She jumps back, hitting something solid, and grabs a hold of it in fright.
"Weasley? - Rose?"
She clutches his arm, barely containing the tears streaming down her face. It is an irrational fear perhaps, but one as strong as that in her father.
His low voice is mumbling something, but she is too scared - all she feels is strong arms around her and drops rolling down her face.
"It's gone," he murmurs.
She finds that he has led her to the Gryffindor portrait door, where the paintings observe the pair with bright speculation.
His gentle grasp lets go of hers, and she races into her dorm, too shamefaced to meet his gaze.
She grimaces at the memory of her cowardice. Yet, somehow, she cannot bring herself to regret her moment of weakness.
Her eyes close into a fitful sleep and she dreams ... of low murmuring and strong arms.
To the surprise of all, she frequently comes to the Potions Club, eager to learn more and to refine her skills in her favorite subject.
Her parents don't understand, too traumatized by their own Potions professor. But they are encouraging nonetheless.
There are a few others who are also enchanted with the subject.
She does not care. Her focus steadfast and patient with the task at hand.
The potion in her cauldron turns into its characteristic pearly shade. Eagerly, she bows down into the vapors and inhales deeply. The old musky scent of books hit her, her father's broom polish, and wafts of a rich strong cologne.
Frowning at that, she turns around and realizes that it was Malfoy, working behind her, and not the Amortentia.
The knots in her stomach loosen as relief hits her.
Proud of her creation, she walks up to the cupboard to fetch a vial. From the corner of her brown eyes she sees Scorpius' pale head bob above his potion as he also breathes in deeply.
Glancing furtively at his reaction, she is surprised when his head shifts jerkily toward her. Grey eyes narrowed in contemplation.
Rose flushes, realizing she must have been staring.
He quickly bottles his potion and sweeps out of the room. Letting out the breath she hadn't known she had been holding, she walks back to her station and frowns.
The familiar scents, reminiscent of her home, hit her senses. But there's another. The rich cologne, the one Scorpius had been wearing, swims distinctly through the scented vapors.
As her heart plummets, she whirls around, hoping to find him lurking somewhere ... hoping to find some other source for the scent.
But it's only in the potion, gleaming and swirling brightly.
She is first female seeker in several years, and the only one to have won their team as many games as she did. Nothing could have made her dad prouder.
Her cousins are not too surprised, having played with her for several years, and suffering defeat at her hands. She spots James flitting in front the hoops and he winks at her.
Across from him is the Slytherin seeker. His gaze is far away from hers and focused on the match playing out below him. He is the only one to have halted her winning streak.
Long forearms grasp the broom tightly, his entire frame tenses in anticipation.
Scorpius Malfoy's sleek blond hair is plastered to his sweaty face, and he covers a hand over his eyes to peer out in the bright glare of the afternoon sun.
Rose tells herself she is only watching the opposing Seeker for signs that he has spotted the snitch.
Sinewy limbs flex as he maneouvers the broom in the air, hovering over the players. He seems exhausted.
Her observations fade as something small and shimmering flickers in her vision. The snitch.
Her heart soars as she tilts her broom down towards the elusive ball. The crowd roars in excitement, and adrenaline fills her veins.
But there's another sound, a sharp whizzing noise characteristic of another deadly ball.
Her eyes leave the golden snitch for a moment to see a large bludger pelting toward her.
There's a shout, a piercing scream.
The image of a pale shocked face flickers before darkness envelopes her.
A strong girl
She is a strong, independent girl. She is in control and organized.
But after plummeting through the tall height, she lies injured and helpless in the Hospital Wing.
The first thing she hears is the distant yells and moans of her cousins, and she smiles in her sleep. As she shifts she notices another sensation.
A hand is curled in her bruised one, holding her tight, yet gentle and soft.
Lifting heavy lids, she peers out and finds Scorpius bent over her, worried and searching her pale face for something.
She breathes deeply, knowing - somehow knowing, that it was him ... he forfeited his victory to save her.
Her eyes move over his face, sinking into the tears swimming in his grey eyes. She smiles as moisture touches her own lashes, something bright and sweet breaking out of her battered body.
The dark hollow expression flees from his beautiful face and he takes a chance, bending down until their foreheads meet.
His soft lips caress hers, tentatively then pressingly and desperately. She lifts weak hands to frame his face, to bring him closer, to feel it all.
Long pale fingers intertwine with hers and they sway into each other.
His hot breath sets her aflame, all over.
Nothing is the same, nor can it ever be the same again.
He's upset the balance and set it all into chaos.
Sighing into his touch, she sinks into the storm.
A/N: I've discovered this new pairing and absolutely love it! It's like a cuter version of Draco and Hermione. Hope you like it.
I've written a companion piece to this fic from Scorpius' point of view, called Traditions. Go check it out.