Sparks of Fyre (a Scorose FanFiction)

Chapter Seventeen (Rose)

          One didn't have to know Scorpius Malfoy personally to realise that he wasn't often at a loss for words.  The boy always had something to say, whether it be an insult, a brainy comment or—more often than not in Rose's case—a teasing remark. 

          However, as Rose stood amongst the stands of the Quidditch pitch, the hysterical laughter of the rest of the Slytherin team echoing around her, it became clear to her that she had finally done the impossible.  She had rendered Scorpius Malfoy speechless. 

          He stared at Rose with eyes that hid his thoughts.  She couldn't decipher his reaction to her demand any more than she could wrap her head around the fact that those words had actually come out of her mouth.  Rose didn't want to learn how to play Quidditch!  She hated Quidditch!  She was dreadful at Quidditch!  Aunt Ginny and her father would be over the moon, of course, if Rose came home for Christmas with the skills to participate in the family game.  But Rose usually preferred to be tucked up by the fire reading a book like her mother and merely listening to cheers and grunts and shouts of frustration flooding in from the garden. 

          But no.  Not this year.  Fred and James had really done it this time.  Rose was officially so deep in murky water that she couldn't see.  A way out of this one was lost to her. 

          Rose wished she could glare at the space her cousins hid but she couldn't see them coming up with a better excuse if they were to get caught along with her.  Instead, she settled on mentally sending furious brain waves in their direction, holding at least one of them would be scalded by the invisible heat. 

          Loud, boisterous laughter continued from the Slytherin team.  Gorgon Grimaldi and Ben Zubair—whom Rose recognised as the boy Fred and James had pranked last time—were nearly falling over each other in a fit of what they probably considered "manly" giggles. 

          Rose squared her shoulders and stood her ground, no matter how much she wanted the ground to swallow her up—in fact, the entire Quidditch stand could collapse at that very moment and Rose wouldn't mind. 

          You are a Granger-Weasley, she reminded herself.  You will not be intimidated by immature Slytherin boys.

          Malfoy was the only one not laughing.  He still stared at Rose with that look she couldn't decipher.  His lips were slightly parted, his eyebrows cocked in what could only be determined as a look of shock. 

          "You want to learn how to play Quidditch?" Raphael sneered, snickering behind his hand.

          Rose narrowed her eyes at him.  "As a matter of fact, yes."

          He snorted.  "Why?  We all remember you falling off your broom in First Year, Weasley.  I doubt it would be any different, now."

          "Well, after seeing you flying just there I can't see myself doing any worse!" Rose taunted. 

          A chorus of "oooh"s erupted from the rest of the team, and Rose heard her cousins join in with that advantage.  She smirked. 

          Raphael scowled at her, but she knew he had nothing to say.  Malfoy hadn't spoken for him, after all.         

          She turned to him, raising an eyebrow.  "You haven't said much, Malfoy.  That's not like you."

          "I'm just thinking," he said finally. 

          His steely gaze bore into Rose's, searching for something in their depths.  She felt a shiver down her spine.  The hint of a smirk curved Malfoy's lips and Rose dreaded whatever he was thinking.