Best Friends
"Tell me." It's not a request, it's an order.
"No."
"Please?"
Again, "No." But this time there is a little less feeling, a little more hesitation. She's cracking.
"Please Rose. I'm your best friend." As if this is the answer to everything.
"No, Anne Marie. You know what happened the last time I told you- it was a disaster." The steel is back; she's heard that line before.
"That wasn't my fault!" Blue eyes widen in innocence.
Brown eyes narrow in disbelief. "Not your fault? Anne Marie. You told the entire common room. How is that not your fault?"
She backtracks quickly, hoping to placate Rose, "Ok, maybe it was my fault, a little bit. But Al was going to tell me something important."
"My cousin. You chose to broadcast my secret so Albus would tell you something? Tell me that is not the case."
"Err. It's not the case?"
"…"
"Rose, come on. That was a one-time thing. I promise I'll do better this time."
"One-time? Oh, so the time you gave my diary to James, was that a one-time thing too? Or how about when you told Alexander I liked his hair? Or when you told me my underwear was showing- when I was 100 feet in the air, in the middle of a quidditch match? Were all of those one-time things too?" Her voice isn't mad, more like amused, daring Anne Marie to agree.
"So?"
"What do you mean, so? Those were all kind of important, embarrassing situations. I do not really want to put myself through something like that again."
"Psh. You know you'll tell me. Maybe not tonight- but I bet I'll know by tomorrow dinner." She's confident, arrogant almost.
"Oh really."
"Yep."
"And what makes you think that?"
"We're best friends."
"That is completely irrelevant."
"Whatever Rose." She turns over and pulls the blanket over her head, effectively ending the conversation.
"You're a brat."
"…"
"No, seriously Anne Marie. You can't just keep ignoring me. It's getting a little old."
"…"
"And if you think this will make me tell you, you're wrong. It's not gonna work."
"…" She doesn't acknowledge Rose directly, but she does roll her blue eyes towards the ceiling, which just happens to be the same color.
"No, really. I'm sick of it. Stop."
A slight smile draws up the corner of Anne Marie's mouth, but Rose is too irritated to see it.
"Anne Marie. Talk to me. Now." Her temper is rising, as is her volume. Close to half of the Great Hall is watching, their dinner forgotten.
"…"
"Fine. Fine. I like Scorpius Malfoy, ok? I like him! And I really could care less about what my family thinks."
Anne Marie smiles at her, but it isn't a sweet, friendly, aw-that's-so-cute smile. It's more of a smirk, and her eyes are glinting. "I already knew that."
Her relief at getting a response has distracted Rose from the rest of the students, most of who are staring in shock, their mouths hanging open. A Weasley and a Malfoy?
Only one student has control of himself. He disentangles his long legs from the table and saunters across the Hall, hands slung in his pockets, hair swept to the side of his face.
"Then why the hell have you been ignoring me all day?" She's very confused, and not a little annoyed.
"Because he didn't know." Anne Marie inclines her head towards the boy.
Suddenly the silence really hits Rose, and it knocks her breath away.
The boy stops in front of bench, and he looks at her for a minute. Rose loses her breath- again. "I don't care either." And he kisses her. A Weasley and a Malfoy.