Thorns and Roses

She's horrible.

At least you think so. There's a number of boys who would disagree with you right off the bat. But she doesn't date them, she doesn't date anyone. You wonder why that is. If you were her, you would've already broken all their hearts.

She's insanely smart, even smarter than you, something that you resent. You try to beat her in everything, but you can't. She's always a step or two ahead of you. She's never even talked to you. She's never even said a word to you. She's just silent, keeping her distance in the shadows.

But you can't stop thinking about her.

Your first few years at Hogwarts fly by, you were second in class, with her first in everything. Except Astronomy. You would always tease her about that. "Even little Rose Weasley has her weaknesses," you'd say. She'd always bite her lip (a nervous habit of hers) and not say anything back. And every time after class, you'd think you'd hear a single sob echoing from somewhere. But you would never investigate it. No one else seemed to hear it, and it wasn't you problem was it?

But it couldn't be her, you assured yourself. She hated you with a burning passion (even though she never talked to you), and you always teased her, and she didn't do anything about it. It couldn't be her crying.

Could it? It couldn't. She didn't like you. At all. And she teased you too on rare occasions, but you never cried. You didn't like her either. She was just an enemy. Someone you had to annihilate on every test. No matter that you didn't succeed. But, why oh why was there this little voice nagging you in the back of your head telling you that it was her that was crying?

But you'd still walk away from the classroom, the nagging feeling deep in your chest, hidden where no one could see it. And you'd never notice her peeking out from behind a tapestry watching your retreating form, the tears pouring silently down her cheeks.

It wasn't your problem.

Was it?

But then, the next time you'd see her, she'd be fine, perfectly fine, and you'd always breathe a sigh of relief. You had no idea how much time she spent to make it seem like it was okay. Because it wasn't. You want to ask her if she's okay, but she has a vicious temper and you just know that she will unleash it out on you (even though she never has before).

She's a Rose, and she has those nasty thorns too. Her family, her temper, everything about her is like thorns. But then why do they keep pricking you at your side? Why oh why does the thought of Rose Weasley always make you feel like someone punched you in the gut?

But you ignore that feeling. You date other girls, and you find yourself falling in love with one special girl. (Jane Parker). She's perfect. She doesn't have any thorns. She's not like Rose. So why do you find yourself comparing her to Rose?

She's pretty, with her brown hair and soft brown eyes to match it, both of them reminding you of chocolate. And you love chocolate, right? But Rose is beautiful with her curly red hair and temper (so much like fire). And fire burns you, right? So you should stay away from it, right?

Right, you tell yourself.

After all, she's Rose Weasley, and she can't possibly mean anything to you.

But just because she doesn't mean anything to you doesn't mean that you can't think about her. Just because she doesn't mean anything to you doesn't mean that you can't look at her.

Just because she doesn't mean anything to you won't stop you from giving Jane a bouquet of roses on your first date.

And what you almost hope will be the last.

A/N- Eh, I don't like this one as much as I like Roses and Thorns. This actually isn't for a challenge (I know, I know. Me. Writing a story that isn't for a challenge). I would really love some feedback on this one because I'm not super pleased at the way it turned out. Maybe I'll even make a third one! Anyway, thanks for reading!