The Red Rose That Has Green Thorns

Time seemed to fly after Beauxbatons’ close loss to Durmstrang - close, but a loss all the same. It seemed like only three or four days had passed, when in reality, it had been nearly the full two weeks until the Hogwarts versus Durmstrang match - well, nearly the full thirteen. It was day twelve after the match between the foreign schools, and my team had managed to squeeze in one more practice before the real deal, tomorrow.

Right now, Scorpius and I were conversing, talking tactics and watching how our team practiced. The chasers were taking turns, rotating out to act as keeper so Scorpius and I could have this talk, and Hugh was practicing his beater skills by hitting ordinary muggle baseballs that Zack threw at him.

“I think your brother has improved,” Scorpius remarked, almost as though he could read my mind. “He’s not quite as sporadic as he has been - he’s hit the last thirteen - fourteen - in a row.”

“Martha’s showing that she’s got a lot of potential, for her age.” I said, just to fill the silence that had come after his statement. “I think Lily has improved some, too. Her sloth grip roll has definitely never been better. And Olivia has excellent quaffle control - but of course, that one’s obvious.”

He chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, that one’s obvious.”

I began to circle, then, examining the players with my fairly practiced eye. Scorpius trailed behind, but followed me nonetheless, this time watching the chasers while I watched my brother. I couldn’t help but to agree with what Scorpius had said - Hugh was improving. He’d already improved from where he’d been, which was saying something, because my brother had learned from one of the best; Uncle George. He wasn’t going pro, though. He and Fred have already decided that they’re going to work with Uncle George. They’re practically twins, like Uncle George and my late Uncle Fred, and so they do everything together.

You even hear explosions coming from their room at the Burrow over the holidays - well, the room that they share with Louis. I’m starting to think that Louis is their mastermind because, frankly, I don’t think the two of them are smart enough to come up with one of the things that they did. Uncle George actually sells that creation, now. It’s a ring that gets tighter every time you tell a lie. I know for a fact that three women bought those for their husbands, just to make sure they weren’t cheating.

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes is totally and completely beside the point. I’m on the Quidditch Pitch, I need to focus more on Quidditch.

“All right, people. What do you say to getting the White team out here to have a little scrimmage?”

Hugh and Lily, of course, whooped. Martha nodded her head, thinking, and Scorpius came up beside me with a nod of approval. “That’s a great idea,” he said, grinning.

We didn’t play a full match for our scrimmage, just a quick little hour long game, with interruptions for Scorpius and I to correct moves or something - and the White team helped good-naturedly.

“If you lot win,” Louis said as we all dismounted and headed back towards the same changing room, “is there going to be another party in your dorm?”

I glanced at Scorpius questioningly.

“I don’t see why not.” he shrugged. “If we win.”

We’d talked to the headmaster before our last little party, and he’d said it was perfectly acceptable to have a get-together and let them stay - but it was either all girls in my room and all guys in Scorpius’, or all of us in the spacious common room.

We chose the common room last time, of course - aside from the hour or so it had taken the girls and I to fix my outfit for the Beauxbatons versus Durmstrang game.

There was talking and laughing and general camaraderie as we changed, then ate in the Great Hall, and then we split up to go to our separate dorms.

“I call shower first!” I cried when Scorpius and I reached the top of the steps to the seventh floor corridor. I ran ahead, going by the dorm door three times before it appeared and opened, and I ran in and upstairs. I heard Scorpius laugh and close the door just as I got into my room.

“You don’t have to run,” he called up to me. “You called it, so you get it. It’s when you challenge me that you have to worry about me getting there first.”

I laughed, exiting my room at a more leisurely pace.

“I know, I know. I just don’t learn, do I?”

He rolled his eyes at me, pointedly going up his side of the stairs to get to his dorm.

“Finally you’re back for more! Without you, it’s been such a bore!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a drip of poisonous goo fall from the canvas roof thing of the wagon. Martha (the dream one, not the real one, duh) was still standing in front of me, with the blue dress.

“Mistress? Are you all right?”

She played her part well, I thought appreciatively. After hating me, now she was trusting me and helping me, which was rather strange and could be suspicious, but I’d save those thoughts for later.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, rubbing my temple.

“No, no, no,” she hissed. “You have to be more commanding!”

“I’m fine. Now, assist me into my dress if you don’t mind,” I said huffily.

She beamed, “Perfect!”

I rolled my eyes, and she really did help me into the multitudes of lace and chiffon that we would call a dress.

“Ooh! Rose is playing a huffy lady! That’s not who you’d usually be!” Spunky giggled in glee, although it was only in my head that he was heard.

“All right, then, Mistress,” she said, straightening the folds of the bulky gown, and finding a parasol that went with it, “we’d best hurry if we’re to make it on time.”

“Do lead the way, girl!” I hated the way I sounded. I sounded like a damn pureblood - nothing against Scorpius, just the ones who’re pureblood and brag and are scumbags.

Martha gave me a discreet smile, bowed and gave a, “Yes, Mistress,” and led the way from the wagon.

I held the parasol that went with my dress low, so that it covered my face. If it was one of my stupider friends that was captured and framed, they’d shout out my name and blow the whole rescue.

“You always think things through, it’s a good thing to do.”

The knight who looked creepily like Boyd glanced at me, an ‘undressing-me-with-his-eyes’ look. Well, if it was really Boyd, that’s the look it was. He let us pass, Martha leading me through, acting meek and mousy, as if she hadn’t just brandished a knife at me in our last visit. There was a second knight guarding the inner ring, where bleachers were set up - completely invisible to those on the outside of the clearing, might I add, so I hadn’t seen them at all until I had passed Boyd. The second knight looked me up and down, seemed satisfied with my apparel and my handmaid, and allowed us to pass with no questions asked.

It was right about then that Spunky’s voice came again, “We didn’t have much time tonight, but everything will soon be set right!”

I knew that I was about to wake up when I started feeling oddly transparent.

I grumbled when I realized that it was barely past midnight. Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep any time soon, I got up (still grumbling) and grabbed a book, a pillow, and a blanket, and headed out of my room.

“I can never get sleep when I need it most,” I muttered to myself, halfway down the stairs.

There was a yawn, and, “Neither can I.”

I jumped and turned to look at a mirror image of me on the other set of stairs - only it was Scorpius with his pillow, blanket, and book. I let myself start laughing as I continued down the stairs, plopping on the sofa before Scorpius could get there. Of course, I only plopped down on half of it, so he smirked, sat down at the opposite end, and stretched his legs out pointedly.

“How mature,” I stuck my tongue out, grinning nonetheless. Then I lifted my legs and allowed them to drop on top of his with a smirk.

“Same to you,” was his retort as he opened his book. I opened mine as well, rolling my eyes.

After trying to read and get interested in the book once more for nearly fifteen minutes, I gave up and sighed, putting it on my lap. I heard a sigh of relief and looked at Scorpius (whose legs were still being crushed beneath mine - well, maybe not crushed, but still).

“Finally you gave up pretending so I could, too,” he laughed, tossing his book unceremoniously to the coffee table. I rolled my eyes once more and followed suit, dropping mine more gently.

“Why couldn’t you sleep, my good sir?” I finally said, faking a pompous voice that nearly made me flinch with the recollection of my dream. I held back however, putting on a smile that wasn’t hard when looking at Scorpius.

Tonight, his untidy hair was ruffled and stuck up in the back, more than usual, and he wore a light blue shirt that kind of matched his eyes and fit him well enough that you could see he had a Quidditch build - not too stocky, but not to slim, either. Even though I knew both of us were tired, his eyes were twinkling in a cheerful, friendly way. He smiled at me a little crookedly and I had to focus on what he started to say.

“I had a very confusing dream,” he explained, running a hand through his already untidy hair. “One of those dreams that makes you stay awake long after you’ve woken up and think about it and think about it until you finally just drift back to sleep.”

“Oh, I hate those!”

“I know!”

I snorted at the fact that we sounded like two thirteen year old girls for a moment, then focused on the discussion at hand as Scorpius added, “So, why can’t you sleep?”

“I don’t know, actually,” I shrugged nonchalantly. I knew that Spunky had nothing to do with why I couldn’t sleep. “Maybe insomnia is just how my nerves find outlets? Maybe that’s how my nerves are getting to me.”

“Could be,” he mused. “Probably is,” he decided, “as you never seem nervous in the least when you actually mount your broom!”

“Mmm,” I made a noise of agreement, scooting down to where my head was on my pillow, rather than my back, and my feet were by Scorpius’ elbows (my legs still partially rested on his, of course). “Maybe the couch is more comfortable. I seem to be finding my way down here more and more often.”

“Me too,” Scorpius laughed, Sliding down the few inches he had left to go, which forced me to readjust my position because his legs had shifted beneath mine.

“This is a very weird arrangement,” I managed, yawning, in regards to how we lay on the couch.

“But it’s comfortable,” he pointed out, yawning in return. “Merlin, Rose, I think you put me to sleep!”

“Gee, thanks,” I sad sarcastically, but playfully as I leaned into my pillow more fully, enjoying the soft texture and the squishy, comfortable head rest that it provided.

“You know--” he yawned again here, “--that I don’t mean it like that.”

“Mhm, I know,” I yawned once more before finally fading into the unconscious state that normal people call falling asleep.