Whisper, Whisper [A Scorose AU]

6. Such Sweet Nothing

Nothing could've prepared Rose for what awaited her in the orchards.

Nothing.

Her breath wouldn't come. She staggered back, stumbling over a dead branch, and a SNAP rent the air.

Scorpius and Jessica leapt apart. And Scorpius stared at Rose, horror all over his face; and Rose stared at Scorpius, horror clutching at her insides and twisting a painful knot of disbelief into her throat.

She ran. And ran. And ran. Without any fixed destination in mind, she ran. Yet she couldn't get the image out of her head. Scorpius had never kissed Rose like that.

Oh, God, she should've known. She should've known.

It became harder and harder to breathe... at length Rose found herself at her own gates, where she collapsed, salty tears blurring her vision like rain on windowpanes. And the concrete scraped through the skin of her knees, and she felt as though everything was crashing down around her.

Hugo didn't come home that night. Or any night after.

For Rose, that was when everything ended.

*'*'*

The Weasley household was quiet that evening, even quieter than it usually was. The TV wasn't buzzing in the background. Mr. Weasley had neglected to turn on the radio. No one was mumbling lines to themselves or getting dramatically into character during dinner.

This latest film, Paris Air, was definitely going to be a huge hit — or so it was said. The whole thing had been shot in Paris, and Rose's parents were co-stars, for a change. It was some sort of romance thing but apparently it was going to smash the box office to bits. And apparently, that was thanks to the fact that Ron and Hermione Weasley were costarring for the first time in a long while, and the fact that Rose herself had written a few of the scenes. All three of them together on one project.

It was funny, the way that worked. She wasn't even all that proud of the work she'd done on it; but it'd been her first movie commission, and she'd gotten to work with professionals. The film itself was just a sappy romance movie, not exactly what Rose would call box office material, but then again she was more of a Maze Runner person — but it was everywhere and it hadn't even been released yet, all because it boasted the name Weasley in bold font on the posters.

Not much was said over dinner, and the clang of cutlery filled the cloudy silence until Rose couldn't stand another minute and abruptly turned on the radio. A female DJ anticipating Paris Air. Rose switched channels.

There was a rapidly accumulating mountain of homework awaiting Rose after the fact, and she plopped resignedly down at her desk, pausing to connect her phone to her speakers and setting Lana Del Rey bouncing around her walls.

Math homework was such a drag... Rose's mind kept wandering back to that moment in the hallway. So close. They'd been so close. What had he been trying to say to her? Why was she even thinking about him? Why had there been a little flare of hope that'd leapt up inside her when he'd said her name?

She tried to write, tried to make progress on her book because she had fallen so far behind in the past few days, and her publisher wanted it done, and the whole world wanted it done. A writer's block sidled into her room at that moment, crept up behind her, snaked its extinguishing hands around her throat and squeezed the words back down, and her muse wilted.

Scorpius was so much sketchier now than he'd been back in seventh. There was never any emotion on his face anymore, never any, and why did she even know that?