Fairytales
She doesn't believe in fairytales. Not anymore.
She used to.
-X-
Who is she?
She'll tell you she's no one of importance.
She is.
-X-
Why doesn't she believe in fairytales?
Because of him.
-X-
Who is he?
He'll tell you that he's important.
He's not.
-X-
He never believed in fairytales. He thought they were childish. He thought they were stupid.
She didn't.
-X-
When did they meet?
In the summer between our fourth and fifth year. They met in Flourish and Blotts, her favorite store.
She was browsing books.
He was browsing girls.
She was looking at the fairytale books on the shelf. He was looking at something else.
-X-
"Hey," was the first word that he ever said to her.
"Hi," was the first word that she ever said back.
It was accompanied with a smile.
-X-
That conversation led to ice cream. He told her she shouldn't eat ice cream.
"Why?" she asked him.
He told her she didn't need to gain any more weight.
She laughed it off.
He didn't see the hurt in her eyes.
I did.
-X-
Her favorite flavor of ice cream is vanilla. She likes to stick to the basics, she always says.
His favorite flavor is coffee.
He wants to grow up too fast.
-X-
"Why vanilla?" he asked.
"I like to stick to the basics," she replied. He snorted.
"That's stupid," he said.
The next time they went for ice cream, she got coffee too.
-X-
She loves books.
She says it's how she escapes from the world. With stories, she can be anything, become anything. No one expects anything out of her.
"It's just how I like it," she told once, "I don't have to be myself."
"Why wouldn't you want to be yourself?" I asked.
"Why would I want to be myself?" she replied, a sad smile carved on her face.
"Because you're perfect," I said under my breath, but she didn't hear me.
She never has.
-X-
After their ice cream, they walked around Diagon Alley for the rest of the day, just talking.
And that night, when he dropped her off at her house, he received a kiss on the cheek and an invitation to go the following week.
He accepted.
-X-
She spent hours getting ready for that day. Her hair, her clothes, everything had to be perfect.
"I've never felt this way about anyone," she told me, "It's like a true to life fairytale."
"I'm so happy for you," I would smile and say. She would sigh and go back to talking about him, never noticing the forced smile on my face.
I lied to her. But she never knew.
"You hardly know him," I told her that week.
"I know," she sighed, "But when I met him, something magical happened. It just felt right."
I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to die.
Instead, I said, "If you're sure." And let her continue to pick out her outfit for her "perfect" date.
For her, it was a perfect fairytale.
For me, it was a perfect nightmare.
-X-
Her life was full of perfects.
Perfect family, perfect name, perfect grades.
Now all she had to do was add perfect boyfriend to the list. Everyone expected her to.
Something that I could never provide her with.
-X-
Their date went perfectly, another perfect to add to her list of perfects.
I didn't make the list.
-X-
He took her to a nice restaurant, and they had a view. She gushed about how gorgeous it was.
He said he knew.
"Perfect," was the word on her lips the whole night.
-X-
After dinner, they went to the ice cream shop that they got ice cream in the first day they met.
They both got coffee, but she lost something.
-X-
He was in our year at Hogwarts. A stupid Gryffindor.
Like her.
They had never really talked to each other before that summer.
But once they did, it was like magic.
A fairytale come true.
-X-
She'll tell you she's never been as happy in her whole life as she was that summer.
That killed me.
-X-
They spent the rest of the summer together, a never ending display of hand holding and kisses under the sunset.
"I love you," she told him.
He didn't say it back.
-X-
I never saw her as happy as she was that summer. It was like he sparked something inside of her.
I've never felt so dead, so hollow inside.
But she never noticed.
-X-
"He's perfect," she'd tell me, "I love him."
"Are you sure?" I would ask her, "You've barely known him a month."
"I'm sure," she said, "Do you know that I've spent my whole life wishing for a fairytale come true and now it's here?"
"No," I said, dejected, "I didn't."
"He's so perfect," she gushed.
Not nearly as perfect as you.
-X-
The summer came and went. Before I knew it, the leaves had gone a cacophony of colors that filled the sky. We always used to lie under the big oak tree by the lake when it happened, watching the leaves fall off the tree.
"What's your favourite color?" she asked me once. She looked so beautiful, lying there with leaves decorating her hair.
"Red," I said casually, twisting one of the leaves round and round.
"Really?" she asked, surprised, "Why?"
"No reason," I lied.
Her hair was red.
-X-
Books were her favourite thing in the world. That was, until she discovered writing.
"It's one thing to be someone else," she said, "But it's another to create someone else. You still get to be that character, only it's like an added bonus because you control everything that they say and do."
I didn't really understand. I understood what she was saying, but I couldn't really grasp the concept of becoming someone else. But I pretended I did.
-X-
She became another person when she was with him. It was like she was a character in a book.
Trying to please him. Trying to do whatever he wanted to do, go with his every whim.
He never cared that she didn't have a say in what they did.
He never cared about anything at all.
She was the perfect girl that he wanted. She acted like it. It was only sometimes that a glimmer of her true personality would shine through, always to be beaten down with hateful words.
But she didn't care. She seemed happy.
She had her fairytale.
-X-
Soon it was winter. There was a white blanket covering the Earth.
"I love snow," she told me. We were sitting under the oak tree, the snow contrasting against her fiery red hair.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because it's perfect," she replies, "It looks so beautiful and perfect-until someone steps on it, that is."
It's like her. She was beautiful and perfect, until someone had to go and step on her.
"That's interesting," I say.
"Interesting?" she gives me a maniacal grin, which she does whenever she has an idea, "I think of a deep statement and all I get is an interesting?"
"Yep," is all I say and soon I get a snowball hit on my face.
"I hope you find this interesting too!" she laughs and then ducks for cover as I throw one back.
We fight all afternoon, and I end up winning but she doesn't care. And afterwards, when we go for hot chocolate, she makes me put marshmallows and whipped cream in mine.
"To remind us of snow," she says, "And the fun day we had."
I always have my hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows now.
And when she burned her tongue and started yelling, somehow we both ended up on the floor laughing.
-X-
I don't remember who threw the first one. I think it was her.
All I know is I was watching her make a mockery out of herself, and them actually mocking her burnt tongue, when I felt a marshmallow hit me in the back.
"Gotcha!" she said, then plucked another one into her mouth.
And I threw one back and we spent hours doing that, and it was just as fun as the snowball fight, only maybe more so, because we ate the ammunition.
"We would not make good soldiers," she said after we were done and the kitchen was a wreck.
"I guess it's a good thing we aren't them," I said, plucking the marshmallow out of her hand and popping it into my mouth.
"Hey!" she exclaimed, offended, "I was going to eat that." I shrugged.
"Round Two?" she grinned evilly, and I nodded my consent.
"Bombs away!" she shrieked, and in that moment, her boyfriend didn't matter.
-X-
Of course, moments like that couldn't last forever. She left to go back to him.
And sometimes, I would go back into the kitchen, the ghost of that day taunting me.
Of course I was drinking hot chocolate.
-X-
Hogsmeade weekend came up. She went with him. Afterwards, we met in the Three Broomsticks.
"It was perfect," she gushes.
"Really?" I ask, and she nods.
"He's so romantic and just…" she trailed off.
"I'm happy for you," I lied, and she smiled that million galleon smile, the one that always made me smile too.
But while hers was happy, mine was sad.
-X-
Winter melted into spring. Flowers started blooming again, the Great Lake started to defrost. You'd think, with all this hope, that I would be hopeful too. But my heart still felt frozen, like it was still stuck in winter.
On one Hogsmeade day in spring, he gave her a bouquet of roses. Trying to be clever, I suppose. But you see, she hates roses. She especially hates it when boys give her roses. She says it shows no imagination whatsoever.
"Why did you get me roses?" she asked him.
"I thought that it was obvious," he said.
"I hate roses," she said. He glared at her.
"Here I go, out of my way to get you flowers, and instead of a thank you I get a, "I hate roses"? What kind of thanks is that?" he asked.
"Thank you," she said quickly and quietly. Her face was angry.
Her fairytale was shattering right before her eyes.
-X-
I admit I was tempted to urge it along, to make her break up with him, just because I couldn't stand seeing her with him. But I quickly decided against it, as I wouldn't feel right doing it. I had to let them break up in their due course.
-X-
"Do you ever get the feeling that someone wasn't originally what you thought them to be?" she asked. We were sitting under the oak tree, a favourite spot of ours, and she looked confused.
"Yes," I said quietly. Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed the "o" of realisation.
"I'm so sorry!" she said, "I wasn't thinking! Merlin, I am such an idiot!"
"No you're not," I assured her, "And it's fine. Who are you having second thoughts about?"
"It's…" she trailed off, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet." She looked troubled.
"Is everything all right?" I asked her quickly. She nodded slowly.
"Everything is fine," she said, "I have to go," I nodded and she ran off into the castle.
-X-
I was so hopeful that she had broken up with him, but I heard not the slightest rumour that she even wanted to in the weeks that followed.
-X-
Then, about a month after our little chat, I heard two third years talking at dinner. They were talking about how they had broken up! I felt my smile growing wider and wider. She had finally broken up with him.
"And he definitely broke up with her?" one asked the other. What?
"Yep," she replied, "Which is odd, because I always thought she was more into the relationship then she was."
He…had broken up with her? What kind of idiot…I was thinking.
That didn't matter. I had to go find her, and make sure she was okay.
-X-
Later that night I found her crying by the oak tree. I hugged her and told it would be okay.
"No it won't," she cried, "I loved him. I'll never love anyone again."
"Yes you will," I assured her, "He wasn't your real Prince, just a fake. He's waiting out there somewhere."
"No he's not," she whispered, "I was stupid to think that he ever was. I was stupid to believe in fairytales in the first place. They aren't even real."
-X-
That night, the Hospital Wing received a new patient. It was him.
And I had a bruise on my hand from punching so hard.
If she noticed, she never said anything.
-X-
That's why she doesn't believe in fairytales. Because of him. He ruined it for her. She used to believe. Now she doesn't and it's all his stupid fault.
-X-
I wish I could help her. I wish I could make her fairytale come true. But she wouldn't let me. She doesn't want me. Besides, it's too late. He's already broken her.
-X-
Who is he?
An idiot. A jerk.
Who cares, anyway?
-X-
Who is she?
She's Rose Weasley.
She's perfect.
-X-
Who I am?
I'm Scorpius Malfoy.
I'm not.
A/N-I have no idea where this came from…I just started writing. I'm oddly proud of this. This was for:
-fanfreak121's unrequited love challenge
-ladyoftheknightley's School Subjects Competition (Potions)
-thefirstservant's Chinese Moon Festival (Romance Slice)
Thanks for reading!