(I apologise for the pun in the title, but I genuinely couldn't help myself and I tried ever so hard)
Regarding the drinks, Tongue Tying Ade is a reference to/adaptation of Tongue Tying Lemon Squash (I think?) at one of the Harry Potter amusement parks.
Rose is never speaking to her cousin Freddie again.
It's all his fault. It started when they were kids, thrown together because their fathers worked on new products for Wizard Wheezes at weekends. Hermione allowed it on the condition that none of the children were anywhere near the experimental zone, so Angelina took them out. If Hermione had known that Angelina let them practise flying, she would have hauled the children into her Ministry office to sit quietly for the day.
So, nobody told her.
Anyway, that was how Rose wound up flying in her every spare minute, captain of the Gryffindor team by the time she was in her fourth year, recruited into the Wimbourne Wasps out of Hogwarts (her father didn't speak to her for two days), and now in Scorpius Malfoy's bedroom.
But maybe she's a little ahead of herself.
"I am going to get you next season, Weasley," Freddie declares, slamming his shot glass down on the counter, and expelling a cloud of smoke when he burps.
Wisps of smoke float out of Rose's own mouth as her laugh turns into a cough. "Whatever," she says dismissively. "Although if you're aiming for me, you might get the Quaffle through the posts once in a while."
Freddie is too good-natured to do anything more than roll his eyes at her jibing. He is secure enough in his position as one of the best Chasers in the League. "All right, Rosie. Next round - what will it be?"
"Exploding Lemonade Roulette!" Lily exclaims, bounding up to the bar out of nowhere. "C'mon, Freddie, I'm sure you could win that - why don't you two heroes come join our table?"
Rose and Freddie turn to find that the largest table at the Leaky Cauldron has been commandeered by the Potter siblings and various friends. Rose shrugs at him. Drinks are on Freddie tonight, which she suspects is the real reason for her younger cousin's enthusiasm. "Your call," she mutters, having ushered Lily away. "I'm game for the Roulette if you are, but I'd add in a Tongue-Tying Ade, too." Surmising Freddie's protesting expression is caused by the idea of introducing a drink that nobody has signed up for, she explains, "It's fine - it's only a soft drink, after all, but it might keep them from pestering you for drinks all night."
"No, that'll be all you, right?" Freddie says, nudging her affectionately.
"Hey, you lost the bet fair and square," she retorts, leaving him to the bartender and choosing a seat next to Lily.
The first sign that her luck is changing comes when she winds up with the Tongue-Tying Ade herself. Her tongue curls backwards in her mouth, and Freddie nearly cries with laughter when he realises she has been the one affected, even as the rest of the table sniggers at Genevieve Clearwater's singed fringe.
Freddie cheerfully refuses to explain Rose's predicament to anybody, too. When he asks what else people would like to drink, Rose points to herself. Infuriatingly, Freddie shrugs at her with a wide smile, demonstrating that he cannot hear her by cupping his hand to his ear, before ambling off to the bar. Maybe he is a little sore about losing the final to the Wasps, although frankly she thinks Puddlemere were lucky to make the play-offs.
"I know your trouble," someone announces; she looks across Freddie's vacated seat to Albus's friend, Scorpius Malfoy. "That's the exact expression I get when I'm trying to recall the dates of the goblin rebellions." He shuffles along, until he is occupying Freddie's place next to her. "Don't worry, I'm happy to run through it with you. Just say the word when you want me to stop."
Rose's eyebrows shoot up in alarm, and she shakes her head frantically.
"Oh, you don't want me to stop?" Scorpius asks, his eyes crinkling. "I know the feeling. There's something about the revolutionising tactics of Urg the Unclean that really gets my blood pumping, too."
It is clear now that he is teasing her, and she is intrigued, but unfortunately also still silenced. She rests her elbows on the table, letting her chin sit in her hands, and gives every appearance of being captivated with the intention of forcing him to give an impromptu lecture on goblins. It isn't the worst thing, letting him have her full attention. She should be able to manage this.
Scorpius outmanoeuvres her without missing a beat. Rose is sure that he quotes old Professor Binns verbatim at certain points. It is both impressive and extremely dull - not the centuries of oppression suffered by magical creatures, clarifies the part of her which is most like her mother. It's the droning quality to Scorpius's voice, affected for the purpose of making her tell him that she does not want to be lectured on goblins. But she won't give in.
Except half an hour later, when he is still going strong. She yawns widely and obviously, not bothering to cover her mouth. "Okay, okay, enough learning - you win. I'm done." Scorpius smirks at that, wiping imaginary sweat off his forehead, and she sticks her now fully-functioning tongue out at him. "I say we both deserve a drink after that. Whatever you feel like; charge it to tab 17."
He halts in the middle of standing up, his hands splayed on the tabletop. "I can get it. Anything for the victorious Keeper."
Rose shakes her head, stretching her arms out, taking care to avoid catching Lily on her other side. "I wouldn't worry about it. Tab 17 is Freddie's tab."
The smile he directs her way is well worth the telling off she's bound to get from Freddie.
Whilst Scorpius is at the bar, her fellow Wasps arrive. Rose finds herself engaged in a debate with Hamish, one of the Beaters. "You can't say that! Ogden's is the superior brand."
"If you're fifty," Hamish returns with a smirk. "Are you fifty, Weasley?"
In lieu of a verbal reply, she plucks the glass right out of his hand, and sniffs it, keeping her eyes on him. There has been a flicker between them all season, and she is tempted to fan it. "This is so peaty, I can practically taste it already. You can't seriously like this; I think you're trying to get rid of it."
He rests his arm on the back of her chair in a mildly possessive manner, and she can't quite decide if it appeals to her or not. Before he can respond, Albus is there, leaning over Hamish's arm to take the glass clean out of Rose's hand. The bubble of intimacy pops as he sips Hamish's firewhisky. "Mm - do you know what age it is? It's a little smokier than I prefer, but-"
Rose loses track of the conversation because Scorpius takes the seat on her other side (she is sure Lily was occupying it only a moment ago), and the tray of alcohol he has brought promises to be far more interesting. "Those aren't on the menu," she notes, picking up a shot glass with miniature imitation Galleons floating in clear liquid. "Is this the Gringotts shot? I thought that was a rumour."
"I'm friendly with the bartender," Scorpius answers, in a dismissive way that has her glancing towards the bar to ascertain if this bartender is female, although she supposes she isn't familiar with his preferences in that regard. "If you're still standing after these, I've got something else up my sleeve."
"It's nice that you think that everybody is going to respect the sanctity of our tray," Rose informs him, even as Albus reaches over her and snatches two glasses from it. Dinnertime in the Malfoy household probably doesn't resemble feeding time at the zoo so much as it does when the Weasleys congregate. "If you wanted these to ourselves, you should have asked me to move tables."
Scorpius hesitates, the tray already half-empty before he and Rose have even had a drink. She likes his sudden bashfulness, finds it almost more appealing than his forthright attitude. "If we move to a different table, I might try to kiss you."
Rose watches him, lets the tension build. She enjoys that he is nervous; she enjoys knowing that he wants her. It isn't quite enough to make her kiss him in full view of her cousins, not to mention Hugo who is undoubtedly somewhere nearby. "It's not the worst idea I've ever heard," she says instead, salvaging a mystery bottle and two glasses, before shifting out of her seat.
"So, Scorpius, tell me," entreats Rose, clambering onto one of the few remaining stools at the back of the bar, where there is a slender ledge for the bottle and glasses to rest, "are you a Wasps fan?" They are withdrawn from the main group here, and she can feel the difference in the way the tension has accelerated between them.
He sits with rather more grace than she had, pulling his stool close enough that their inside knees brush together. "I am not," he admits, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Will you have me thrown out?"
"By the scruff of your neck." She fixes her eyes to his, raising an eyebrow in what she hopes is a challenging manner. "Or maybe I'll try to persuade you otherwise."
"Looking forward to it." He fiddles with the foil around the top of the bottle, and then she catches a glimpse of the shimmering label.
It makes her sit upright on the stool, one hand flat against the wall for support. "Bloody hell, Scorpius, Starry Night is expensive! Freddie will have my head for this." Limits. Malfoys need limits. She will remember this in future.
"Relax," Scorpius instructs, shooting her a grin as he releases the cork. A part of her is fascinated that he does so in such a matter-of-fact manner; most people she knows send half the contents spraying all over the place. "They don't stock this vintage here. My father always leaves a bottle behind the bar when he's trying to impress somebody."
This is too good to pass up. Rose leans over under the pretence of watching the glasses be filled, bracing one of her hands on his stool. It is, to tell the truth, an engaging sight, with small silvery bursts throughout the liquid. It is not, however, her primary objective. She is very aware that she is crowding his personal space right now, and that his lips are right there if she turns her head. She murmurs in a low tone, "Are you trying to impress me?"
"Is it working?"
She turns her head.
Rose hasn't had a single sip of Starry Night, but her stomach might be full of effervescence regardless. Scorpius replaces the bottle on the side, and cups her face in one hand, and suddenly, she doesn't feel so much like they are playing games. Her heart hammers in her chest, and she wets her lips, nerves rising.
He exhales, a shaky little sound that she only catches because they are practically entwined, but it gives her courage. She links her arms around his neck, the better to control things, and pulls his mouth down to meet hers.
The kiss is hungry, Scorpius dominant but not domineering, his hands keeping her from sliding off the seat. Her head is reeling in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol, and it is only when she tips her head back to allow him access to her throat that she comes back to herself.
"Another time," he says, sounding regretful as he plants a soft kiss below her ear. "When there isn't an audience."
That explains the whooping. Rose determinedly does not look around, sure of catching some form of disapproving look from a family member or team-mate. "Cheers," she says weakly, raising her glass.
Scorpius chuckles, hooking his foot around her ankle and settling his heel on the footrest of her stool. He clinks his glass against hers, trapping her knee between his at the same time. She finds she doesn't mind.
"Your father has good taste," Rose remarks, for want of something to say. They are killing time now until they can slip away, but it is true. The bubbles feel as though they are dancing on her tongue when she holds a sip in her mouth.
"I was going to kiss you again, but talking about my father has rather dampened the mood," Scorpius says, giving her a sidelong look.
She opens her eyes wide, affecting innocence. "Oh, I'm sorry - is your mother the one who gets you in the appropriate frame of mind? I know all about you pureblood sorts."
It is a test, really, a challenge to see how he responds, because with a high-profile Muggleborn mother and a cousin in Slytherin, she does know a lot about blood prejudice. She doesn't realise she is holding her breath when he replies, "I see that I'm going to have to revert to Plan A after all." This time, he kisses her gently, sweetly, and she has forgotten her line of teasing when he pulls away again.
"There is an after-party at mine," Rose manages, her voice picking up a rasp.
"O- okay," he replies, a line forming between his brows. "I guess we can do that."
That isn't Rose's intention, but it is a while before she can correct him, with his thumb rubbing circles on her knee. "I live with Freddie, you see, and he won't want to cancel it. I was thinking - maybe - you might show me what your place is like?"
His eyes roam her face, and there is a beat where she thinks he is going to refuse, but she must have imagined it, because he says, "Sure."
The next morning is not quite as painful as it could be. Scorpius's curtains don't appear to let in much natural light, and she is already wondering if she can steal his mattress. On the downside, the brief movement to take account of her surroundings has her head spinning, and she feels as though something died in her throat overnight. It is going to be a challenge not to Splinch herself on the way home, but she doesn't feel too bad, all things considered.
"I should have known you'd be an early riser," Scorpius grumbles, throwing an arm across her body. Rose lets him secure her in place, but her mind is already racing through the day's tasks.
His bedroom is far nicer than hers. Rose has never been one for decorating and she regrets it now, as her eyes adjust to the heavy curtains and four-poster bed, with its spiral columns. It seems he has a flatmate, for she can hear somebody moving around outside, and she wonders idly who it might be. She didn't pay much attention last night, caught up in the moment and Scorpius's eyes, mouth, and hands.
Something clicks all of a sudden, and she sits bolt upright in bed, knocking Scorpius's wandering fingers away. "Scorpius," she begins, pulling the duvet up tight around her chest and doing her best to ignore his attempts to rekindle the previous night's activities, "where did you say you lived again?"
"I don't believe I did say," he replies, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder. In other circumstances, she might have let him continue the path down. "But we're in Wiltshire, if that helps."
Wiltshire. Oh, sweet Merlin. The Malfoy Manor was in Wiltshire. He brought her to his parents' house.
"You didn't mention you still lived at home," Rose says evenly, and he looks up at her, evidently gauging from her expression that they are going to discuss this. He reaches over, tugging the curtain cord, and reveals the Manor grounds outside the window.
"Silly me," Scorpius drawls, and she knows she has offended him from his haughty demeanour. She has no idea how he looks so superior with only the covers to preserve what modesty he has left. "I thought that would have been obvious when we came up the drive and into the manor last night."
Heat sweeps into her face, prickling the back of her neck, but she isn't quite so easily cowed. "I think it would be best if I left," she replies, quiet but firm. "Is there any chance your fireplace is connected to the Floo?"
Now, he is openly vexed, his cheeks flushed with colour. "I don't know how many visitors you have trampling through the Weasley bedrooms, but it is not like that here."
"Stop that, Scorpius," she instructs, peering over the side of the bed for her underwear. "I didn't mean it like that. I just want to get out of this place without anyone seeing me." The remark clangs in the room, hangs heavy amid the ensuing silence. Rose freezes when she realises how it sounds, but can't (won't) take it back. It isn't untrue. His family, her family, complicate what was intended to be something very simple.
Apparently, Scorpius has decided to let her get on with leaving, but she doesn't want to do it on this note. Having wriggled into her knickers and located her jeans, she's feeling a little more like herself. "So, if you're not a Wasps fan, and I presume you're not a United fan, who do you support?" she asks, hooking her bra closed.
There is a glint in his eye as he leans over, offering her wand. For a moment, she is transported back to last night, and she is so very tempted to crawl back into bed. Until he says, "Falcons."
"Sod off!" she says, mouth falling open, sitting down on the edge of the bed without meaning to. "You do not."
He holds his hands up. "Never cared for any of the others. My dad used to take me to the matches. I can probably scrounge up some merchandise if you give me a minute."
"I can't believe I was tricked into sleeping with a Falcons fan!" Rose exclaims, and she's only half-joking, but then again she's still sore after the Falcons cheated their way through their home game against the Wasps. "Come on. Wimborne is practically on your doorstep. Besides, they nearly took my head off in the last match."
He slides two fingers underneath her chin, using them to tilt her face upwards, and she feels a shiver run through her. "Seems all right to me," he determines in a undertone.
Bugger. Rose is practically swooning - if she doesn't get out of here, she'll have a repeat of last night on her hands, and this time, she knows he is a Falcons fan. She needs some space, a chance to clear her head, and also her top. Luckily, she spies the latter underneath his armchair, and she pulls it up over her head.
"I, er, should be going, then," Rose tries, when it is apparent that he is not going to get dressed and escort her to the gates. To mask her awkwardness, she looks in his mirror, and does her best to tie her hair back and keep it off her face. The mirror advises her she'd do well to cover her ears, which she ignores with a heroic effort. She bets the mirror simpers over Scorpius, who apart from looking pale seems unaffected by a hangover. "Thank you for..." She trails off, not sure what she should thank him for - the evening? Hosting? A lovely time?
Best to go.
But when she lays her hands on the doorknob, twisting it in an attempt to exit the room, she finds it won't budge.
"Shit," she whispers under her breath, wiping her palms on her jeans, before trying again.
The door still won't open. A flutter of panic starts in her chest; she applies more force this time, but with the same lack of result.
"Scorpius," she says, striving for a casual tone. "Why won't your bloody door open? Is this one of those Malfoy things, where only somebody of the house can open your doors?"
He gives her a cool look. "Oh, please, Weasley. You knew what you were doing when you asked to come back here last night. Everybody knows that the Malfoy household is the purest household."
"I'm not here for a blood purity lecture," Rose interrupts tersely. "I just want to go home."
Scorpius frowns at her, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed so he is sitting upright. "You must know I'm not talking about blood purity. Come off it, your cousin is one of my closest friends. You - you really didn't know?"
"Know what?" Rose asks, though she has a sinking feeling she'd be better off not knowing.
Scorpius crosses the room, without an apparent thought for his naked state, and takes one of her hands in his. "Rose, you... please try to stay calm. The thing about the Manor - the thing about the Manor is that my ancestors have always been very respectable, and there wasn't to be anything unseemly going on under its roof, if you catch my drift." He swallows hard, his fingers tightening around hers. "It's only a small thing, but we - well, we can't leave the Manor unmarried. Or, well, this room, really, without at least being engaged. After last night, it's locked itself against us. Look, I really thought you knew."
Rose clutches at the wall behind her. "I must have misunderstood you," she says pleasantly, as though good manners are the way out of this. She can't be engaged to a Malfoy. It can't be true.
"By all means, try the door again, for all the good it will do you."
Ignoring the sarcasm, she rattles the door at length, and then sinks to the floor. "This can't be happening. There must be some way around it - let me contact my father."
He has pulled boxers on, thankfully, and he sits next to her. "You want to tell your father that you spent the night here?"
Well, no. Not when he put it like that. She buries her head in her hands, trying to think of somebody. If her father is out of the question, her mother is likewise excluded, and Uncle Harry will only tell them the first chance he gets. There must be somebody in her extended family - what's the point of them all being there if they aren't any use in a moment of crisis? Hold on... "Uncle Bill! He'd be perfect." Relief sweeps through her. He won't be impressed, but he is a Curse Breaker, and she's sure she could swear him to secrecy.
"All right," Scorpius says comfortably. "Now, how are you going to get a message to your uncle Bill from inside the room? I suppose we might try and explain matters to my parents through the keyhole."
"I feel like you could be a little more helpful right now," says Rose, through gritted teeth. Nothing good comes of drinking with Freddie, and she will remember that in future.
His expression is guarded as he toys with the fraying edges of her jeans, perilously close to brushing her ankle (this, Rose thinks, is why people wear socks). "There is a spell - if I could only remember it. It has a chance of working, though I can't guarantee it."
"Anything, Scorpius, please."
He puts the first two fingers of his free hand to his temple, his brow furrowing. "You'll have to be quiet, though, let me see. It's Alm, no, Alo... Ah, yes, Alohomora. That's the one."
"You shit," she explodes, unable to believe she had fallen for his story. That the simple solution hadn't occurred to her. It was Scorpius's fault for being so damned distracting. "Oh, you are in so much trouble."
Scorpius lies down, holding his stomach as he is overcome with laughter. "I used to- I used to think you were clever," he forces out between chuckles. "Your face..."
She hangs her head in shame. Albus will love this story. "You got me." She stretches out next to him, not quite able to make herself perform the spell and leave, not quite yet.
He sobers, the amusement still glimmering in his eyes, and reaches out to brush his fingertips down her bare arm. "Do I? I wasn't sure."
They are, of course, no longer talking about his prank. She pokes her tongue out, wetting her lips as she considers her response. She doesn't do anything serious as a rule, and he is Albus's friend, so he requires a certain amount of consideration. Rose is often on the road or in the air, and though he might know that, it's another thing to live it.
But she has fun with him, and she definitely fancies him, so she thinks, why not give it a try? Pre-season won't start for another month at least.
"Yeah," she says, finding his hand and slotting her fingers through his. "You do."