AN:
This is my 350th story that I've just reached, and I decided to make it Rose/Scorpius, because that's one of my Harry Potter OTPs.
The plotline includes mentions of prostitution, so if you don't like this, please don't read.
The characterisation of Rose is very different to anything I've written; she's discontented with her life and so decides to run away into the Muggle side of London. I've never written anything like this, and her confusion between what she wants and what she'll get is what I tried to put across, though I'm not sure if I did.
This is dedicated to Alice (felines) and members of the RoseScorpius Fans forum, which you lot reading this ought to check out.
Rose Weasley 21 years old
Missing for three years
She has ginger hair, blue eyes and is 5"6
Please email Hermione_weasley hotmail if you know her whereabouts
Rose used to feel guilty whenever she'd see one of these posters, guilty that she'd abandoned her entire life and nobody from it knew where she was, but now she doesn't care. It's out of date—she's been out of the wizarding world for almost a decade now—and she's seen so many all over London that she's mastered blending them into all the other missing posters.
This one's on an electricity post, the posters climbing higher than Rose's head with missing people, animals and possessions; it's only due to the disintegration of the more recent posters due to the heavy rains of late that she's back to the forefront of those lost to the darker side of London. Well, that and the fact that every poster that's been put up searching for her has been put there with a permanent sticking charm, as well as the paper being charmed to never fade or be destroyed, so she's always going to come back to the surface.
Not that she wants to.
It's been nine years, three months and a few days since she left a note for her parents saying 'don't look for me. Please, if you love me, don't try and find me' next to her wand and everything that related to the wizarding world that she owned, and sometimes, she regrets her actions with regards to distancing herself so absolutely. She's missed her little brother, Hugo, since the off, and it's sometimes hard to resist the urge to call her parents' home number when she's making her way home from work at ten o'clock in the morning, but she's made it so far—and she's happy that she left behind the world of magic.
Well, she is and she isn't; after all, she never expected to be working as she does now, on the streets of London, its seedy and dark side something she only experienced when she came out here alone.
"Rose, we're moving round onto the corner of 6th Street, ok?" Angela, her boss of sorts, says, picking up the bag that contains all the sensitive details about their cliental—the information that protects the girls, because if they're hurt, the wives of their customers find out about their out-of-hours activities. "We've got word from the guys round the corner that the coppers are coming down this way tonight, and it's a pain in the backside to get released on a Friday night."
Rose nods, tearing her gaze from the pole that has the picture of herself on it—an outdated one now, one of her happy and smiling, almost in a different universe to her current one—before picking up the bag containing her keys and phone, following Angela.
"Do…do the clients know we've moved?" she asks hesitantly, not sure how to refer to those who solicit their company. This job—way of life, really—is something she's been doing for about a year, and still she hopes for the day that she'll win the lottery and be able to get away from this side of the Muggle world. When she broke free of her world of expectations and fame, she swore that she'd get a good job in the Muggle world, that she'd be famous for herself, rather than for being Ron and Hermione Weasley's daughter, but that hasn't worked out.
Instead, she's found herself working doss jobs, ones that barely paid the rent, ones that she's been shoved out of in favour of cheaper labour, her lack of qualifications (ones relevant to this world, at least) meaning that she's been barely able to scrape the bottom of the barrel jobs.
And now, with the recession of the other year, even those jobs are gone; graduates from universities are taking the cleaning jobs she once had, and…and then she realised that this was the only way she could afford to keep her flat. If she had brought her wand with her, she could have—but, as she's done every time she's considered using magic to break free of her problems, Rose stops herself. If she had brought her wand, she wouldn't have distanced herself from that world wholly, would have given her parents an indication that maybe, just maybe, she'll want to come back. And that's something she didn't want.
"Rose?" Angela says, and Rose jumps slightly, realising that Angela's been talking to her for the duration of their walk around the corner. "You're always doing that, you know; it's off-putting for the clients if they see you staring like that…like you're a simpleton."
"Sorry," Rose mutters, staring at her feet, clad in ridiculously high heels. "I…what did you say?"
"I was just going to inform you that you've got someone coming for you at ten, so don't take on anyone if it means you won't be back before then," Angela informs her, and Rose immediately looks at her watch: eight thirty. There's no way that, even if she disappeared with someone now, she'd be back in time; she's literally got nothing to do for the next ninety minutes.
"Alright," she sighs, hoping that this'll pay well, even if it's something she hates doing, because otherwise, she'd rather blow off this booked person (who seriously books prostitutes? Rose immediately thinks) and earn more cash.
As though she understands this, Angela stops and turns to look at Rose. "He's paying you a lot of money for this, dear; it's more than you normally make in a fortnight. So don't blow him off—he's a bit weird, that's what I thought he came by to make the deal, and he doesn't look as though he's done this before—if you want to get some easy cash, alright?"
Rose nods, and they begin to continue their walk around to their new location, passing more of "Angela's girls" on the way, all of whom already know where they're based tonight.
"I'm going to go and get a coffee whilst I wait," Rose says as they pass one of the dingy, run-down cafés that litter this area of London. She's thankful that she put on a full dress today, rather than just the usual leotard and coat, because she's never felt comfortable entering public places dressed like that; this may be her current profession, but since it's swathed in shadows and lack of identity, she's normally well hidden. In cafés, that isn't the case.
"Alright," Angela replies, looking at her nails. "Make sure you're back before ten, though. I wouldn't want him to think you've stood him up, and we lose him as a potential future client."
Rose nods once, to show she understands, before she enters the café and wonders, as she does every night, how the fuck her life has gotten to be like this.
~x~
Nine fifty three in the evening rolls around, and Rose sets down her empty coffee cup (it has been for some time; she just hasn't wanted to cough up another ninety pence) before walking out of the café and along the street to where Angela is standing. There's another girl with her, one that Rose recognises as Freya; she's relatively new to this game, newer than Rose is, and yet she's had more clients in a fortnight than Rose normally gets in a month.
"You're early," Angela says, sounding surprised. "I would have thought that you'd have a book tucked away under that dress and would still be sat in there at ten forty, engrossed in it." Her tone makes Rose flush slightly—that's not what she always does; just because she's always been a bookworm doesn't mean that it impacts on her working life—but she ignores the insult within her boss' words.
"No, I didn't bring one—I don't normally," she says, her tone level—more so than she had expected.
There's no response from Angela and so Rose merely stands on the corner, shivering slightly from the slight breeze that seems to have picked up as soon as she stepped outside, and whilst her boss and Freya talk, she begins to think about how her life could have turned out.
Right now, she could be in an apartment that's filled with the top of the range appliances she's always looking at in the shop windows around the capital, writing the next in the series of novels that are never off the bestseller list. She could be wondering what her beautiful boyfriend—no, she's old enough for a husband, now—is cooking for their dinner, then what's on the television for them both to watch (together) before they go to bed and curl up in one another's arms.
On the other hand, she could be back in the wizarding world, working for one of the Ministry's departments—writing's only been something for the Muggle world; in her 'home' world, she had the intention of going into Law Enforcement—and climbing her way up the ladder. She could still be with Scorpius, or maybe she'd have found someone else, and may even be expecting a child.
"ROSE!" Angela hisses, and Rose turns to face her boss, realising, once again, that she's been staring into space and her attention has been wanted elsewhere. "What the hell are you doing? You look like an idiot!"
Only then does Rose realise there's a wide grin on her face, and there may even be a little dribble trickling down her chin, and she wipes both away within seconds; she can't be dreaming of what she could be doing right now, because she isn't, and that's all her fault. She had the chance to be everything, no matter where it was, and she didn't take it. She wanted to make it on her own.
Pity that she's failed, right?
~x~
Ten o'clock is soon here, and the nearby church's bells are clanging to alert the public to this fact, and immediately Angela and Rose take a step forwards towards the road, their backs straightening as they do so. Their eyes are pealed, looking for any car approaching on this strangely dead road, but as the watch on Rose's wrist rolls to ten oh one, ten oh two, ten oh three, and even to ten oh seven, she begins to think that it's been a prank and that there isn't really anyone coming.
"Maybe…maybe I was wrong," Angela says finally, though Rose knows that if Angela's given up, she'll be able to pin the blame onto Rose somehow. That's what she always does; when there was an issue with one of the clients getting too grabby with Rose, almost at the beginning of her working life, Angela said it was because Rose was leading him on, being rude and basically insinuated that she wasn't anywhere near as high-class as she made out to be.
"Look, if he's not going to turn up, can I get another client?" Rose says, not wanting to sound desperate, but she has to; this man was meant to be a fortnight's wages for her, and instead he's cost her an evening's. She'll have to work on her days off at this rate, and that's not something she exactly relishes doing.
Before her boss can reply, there's a screeching of tires from around the corner, and a black sedan car zooms around the corner, skidding across onto the other side of the road as though the driver doesn't exactly know how to drive it. Rose can see as the car approaches the dimly lit section of the pavement that the car's a BMW, and the number plate tells her that it's less than three months old.
Evidently, this playboy has money to burn.
"That's him!" Angela hisses, though the person isn't exactly able to hear them, and Rose feels her mouth dry up: she's nervous. She doesn't get why—this is what she's done five or six evenings a week for months now, after all—but she supposes it's the fact that she's been requested especially…and they're paying her a lot of money. What if she's not what they want, if she doesn't do things right; is she going to be like one of those they report about on the news, the poor, unfortunate girl found in the red-light district?
"Go!" Angela pushes Rose forwards to the opening door, and once again, the girl realises that she's drifted off into her own world again—or she was, before she was being pushed forwards into the car—
—and here, she comes face-to-face with her client for the first time. And it's the biggest surprise in the world.
This man isn't a mystery to her, an enigma that's been consuming her attention for short bursts ever since Angela told her about him; he's someone she spent seven years with—and a little outside of Hogwarts—and someone who she basically promised she'd marry before she disappeared.
Scorpius Malfoy.
"What?" she shouts, but before she can protest, before she can get out of the car or do anything other than stare, he's already got the car into drive and is pulling away, the movement being extremely jerky.
"You may want to put your seatbelt on," he says, grimacing slightly as far as Rose can see in the dim light. "I only got this car last week…and I'm still—shit—not entirely sure how to work things," he continues, issuing profanities as he swerves to avoid something in the road.
"You know that I'm not going to have sex with you, right?" Rose says, feeling awkward about it but feeling the need to get it out. "We…dated. That'd just be…weird." Especially since you're paying, she mentally adds on, before realising that she's missed out on one of the biggest questions.
WHY IS HE HERE?
She begins to ask this just as Scorpius begins: "Don't ask why I'm here, Rosie, because I'm not going to tell you until we get to a little place I picked out especially for you," is what he says—and that's all it takes for her to not ask the question. Rose has always been aware that once he's made his mind up, there's no changing it…not even if she pleads. "But…you're looking good, Rosie."
"Liar," is all Rose says in response, crossing her arms but doing as he says and buckling up her seatbelt as he rounds a corner and scrapes the side of the car on a pole of some sort. "And one more thing: don't call me Rosie."
All Scorpius does is chuckle. "It's good to see you. I've missed you."
Rose doesn't reply.
~x~
They drive for another ten minutes, and Rose is just working up the courage to talk again when they (finally) stop. It feels like forever since she got into the car with him, and she's extremely aware how scantily clad she is, and…and the fact that she's with Scorpius Malfoy! He's a part of her life she thought she left behind however many years ago she left her life, and it's so strange for him to now be superimposed on this part of it, the part that she's trying to claw herself out of, and failing, no matter how hard she tries.
The car engine is turned off, and there's complete silence for a few moments, only the sounds of their breathing indicating people are in the car, before Scorpius turns to look at Rose with a slight smile. "Would you like to join me for a spot of supper?" he asks, and it's the strangest request Rose could ever have had. She was expecting a fat, balding man who wanted her to do things he couldn't even manage—and yet here she is, going out with someone she used to date, for dinner: and she's getting paid for it.
This feels more like escorting than whoring.
"I…sure?" she says, taking her seatbelt off and stepping out of the car awkwardly, due to the height of her heels. She doesn't remember shutting the door, which is strange, but then again, the shock of seeing her 'client' probably meant that Angela did it and she didn't realise.
That, or it's a magical car that has magic doors—but that's got to be impossible, right?
They're standing outside a small restaurant, a bistro-style one, and Rose can tell somehow that it's empty; they've got the place to themselves. "I booked us a table," Scorpius says, his voice slightly awkward as he speaks, striding towards the building. Rose is thankful that he doesn't try to take her hand or anything, because that would be too reminiscent of the past—this situation is very, very different. "Whilst we're in there, I thought we'd cover what's happened since you left and how I found you, then later, we can discuss what you're going to do and whether or not…you need anything." his voice is quiet by the end, and even though she knows that she should be irritated with his attempts to control her life—as he did before, though she thought it was endearing then—she can't be.
All he's doing is caring about her—and whilst she's spent years squashing her true feelings, she can't deny that this is all she's wanted. It's just caring from the wrong person.
Hesitantly, Rose enters the building before Scorpius, the latter holding the door open for her, and as he does, Rose notices that the light reflects off his hair, casting an almost halo around his head. But she instantly averts her eyes and instead focuses on not tripping on the uneven floor inside, before then making her way to her seat.
He allows her an entire minute of silence to gather her thoughts, to allow the suppressed memories of the Wizarding world to return to their former glory in the forefront of her mind, no matter how hazy some of them are getting (but the clarity of most of them surprise Rose) before he's straight in on the questions.
Unfortunately for him, so is Rose: and her fiery temper has been reawakened by someone who used to fuel it more than anyone else in their entire world.
"Why are you doing this to yourself?" he asks just as she demands, "Why are you here?"
They stare at each other for a full five seconds, her hazel eyes meeting his grey-blue coloured ones, and then they both let out a deliberate breath.
"I thought that we're going to cover—" he begins, before Rose cuts in on him.
"No, we're not going to cover what I've missed because that'll hurt too much!" she hisses, keeping her voice low so that nobody working will realise there's an altercation occurring. "You're the one who cornered me, Scorpius, not the other way around! As far as you're aware, I could be perfectly content with my life, with no need for a knight in shining armour to burst in to my rescue!"
"Could." Of course, Scorpius picks up on the conditional nature of Rose's statement, his eyes boring into hers. "You're not happy, Rosie, I can see it in your face. You don't want this for yourself. After all, who runs away from everything to have this, absolutely nothing, not even…" he trails off, and Rose gets the feeling that he's stopped himself saying something derogatory towards her trade.
She knows; everyone has the look of pity in their eyes when they hear of what she does, and she knows she used to have it, too, for those who worked the streets. Until she became one, that is.
"So, let's begin," Rose says, pretending to study the menu as the waiter tries to come over. "Why are you here, Scorpius? Who sent you?"
There are a few moments that pass in which she can tell Scorpius is gathering his story together, and she's thankful for all those hours they spent together in Hogwarts, because she can see when he's lying. If he's stupid enough to even try…
"I missed you," he says finally, and Rose permits herself a glance down at his left hand, fourth finger. Ringless—but that means nothing; most men don't like wedding rings. "I…it's been years and you've still not bothered to get in touch. Your absence has hurt so many people, and it's still hurting them, and there's nothing anyone can do—because they wanted to respect your wishes and not try and find you."
Rose smiles slightly, a sad smile, one that she doesn't think reaches her eyes as she looks back at the man across from her. "But you didn't listen, did you?" she says quietly, a note of betrayal to her tone. "You, the one I thought would listen, didn't keep to what I asked. You ignored it."
And then Scorpius is shaking his head, and it's confusing Rose, because he did break her rules, she knows he did! "You said not to use magic to find you," he says, and she realises what he's done: he's found the loophole, just like he does in everything. No wonder she always said he was going to make a great Wizenagamot Chief some day. "And I didn't, I swear it, Rosie! I respected your wishes for a long, long time…but a couple of years ago, it became too much for me.
"I missed you. Years and years passed and you weren't coming back, that much was obvious, but you wouldn't leave my mind. I tried dating other people, but nobody compared to you—you were the baseline for everything, and nothing would compare, so it got shoved to the side—and then I began to try and work out what you could be doing. It wasn't a conscious effort at first, just something I did after a couple of Firewhiskey shots on an evening, but then I began to piece together all the bits and pieces of your personality that didn't seem to stand out to me before—but they did then.
"You were in the Muggle world, that much was obvious from your note; where else could you be if you weren't at home? You had referenced something to do with writing before, so I took a few weeks off work to search through all the staff of the papers and magazines in London…but there was nothing."
Before he can continue his explanation, Rose has a quick question. "How did you know I'd still be in London, though?" it's a valid question, given that there's been a world at her feet and she could have left the country—or even just the county—at any point.
His smile scares her slightly; it's a knowing one, one that suggests to her that he knows more about her than she'd care for him to, especially now she's out of his world for good. "You've always liked to be close to home, Rosie," he says, continuing even though she tries to interrupt him. "Ok, ok, I know you lived in Suffolk, but I mean the world you left behind; you've got Diagon Alley in London, and the train to Hogwarts—I always knew that you would never leave."
Just as he's about to launch back into his story of how he's found her, the waiter comes over to take their order, and Rose orders the first thing she sees on the menu: garlic chicken and rice. She half hopes he leans in to kiss her, because he'll get the full force of her garlic breath, before she stops this thought; she isn't with Scorpius any longer. Their worlds are eons apart, now.
"How did you find me, though?" she whispers as soon as their server has left them. "I mean, it's quite obvious that I'm not working for The Times, or anything like that, isn't it?" she lets out a slight laugh, its sound distorted by her nervousness, and she takes a sip of the water in front of her to clear her throat.
He shakes his head. "No, you're not," he says, and he averts his eyes from her—but not quickly enough. Rose can tell that he's saddened due to the situation he's found her in, the way that she's not had the chance to live out her dream; she's like so many of the others who run away to London (or, in her case, to the Muggle side of London) falling into something they don't want to do because they miss out on their dreams for all sorts of reasons.
"Then how?" she presses, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand to make him tell her by wrapping both of hers around her water glass.
"You won a writing competition in one of the little Gazettes three months ago, for which you won three hundred pounds and the opportunity to write an in-depth analysis on your life, which would then be published," he answers immediately. "It told me your name and your postcode, and that's what confirmed it was you—your name. Something about the entry, it reminded me of you…but I wasn't sure. The name confirmed it, though…obviously."
"I…but why not come to my house?" she asks, wondering why her former beau insisted on coming and finding her like this, in the most humiliating of states: someone forced to give people what they want, for money. That's basically what every job is, really, but there's something more degrading about this line of work than writing for one of the country's best papers.
"You wouldn't have let me in," he tells her, and she realises that she's right. "The day you left, I knew that you wouldn't want us to find you and then to hunt you down…and when I found out this is where you work…I had to come."
Their food arrives and Rose manages to spend a good ten minutes in silence, pretending to be too focused on consuming her meal carefully to allow for conversation. But when her plate is clear and her glass is empty, it's time for her to make a decision: does she want Scorpius in her life, a link to her past, or does she want him to leave and never come back?
It was hard enough the first time, to leave him; can she do it again?
"I…take me back," she says quietly, looking down at her plate. "Please, Scorpius. Don't try and talk to me anymore; I know everything you're going to say, and I don't want you to say it."
He doesn't argue, merely stands up and escorts her back to the car after leaving the correct amount of cash plus a tip on the table, but Rose has a feeling that he's going to try and talk to her on the way back to the street corner.
They drive in silence, besides for Scorpius issuing profanities every few minutes as he almost hits something, and Rose considers her options, trying to make a decision, but each time she thinks she's decided what she'll do, another memory comes back of times he's held her in his arms, and she's unable to cement in her mind that she's going to make him leave and never come back.
Finally, they pull up where he picked her up from, almost seventy five minutes ago, and Rose hesitates; here's the place for her to tell him what she wants. "I want you to leave now," she says firmly, shifting around to face him. "Please, Scorpius, if you want me to be happy, don't tell my parents what I'm doing, where I am; it would destroy them. It's already destroying me…and I've broken them already. I don't want to do it again."
He nods slowly, gravely, and reaches into a compartment just in front of where Rose is sitting. His skin almost brushes against hers, and it's all Rose can do not to react to his touch, as she did in their shared past, because they're not together; she's a slut and he's a client, for all intents and purposes. That's all. They've become this, and this is what they shall remain to be forevermore.
"Take this," he says, shoving an envelope stuffed full of cash at her. "Don't worry, it's not mine, I'm not giving you money for spending the evening with you; it's yours. Now, you can say that you don't want anything from the world you left behind, but you need this money, so take it. Please, Rose." There's something about his expression that makes her move her hand to take the money of its own accord, and Rose has to blink once, twice, three times to try and blur out his expression because she's scared that there are too many emotions on it that will cause her to forget her resolve.
"I…goodbye, Scorpius," she says, unbuckling her belt and opening the door. She's pleasantly surprised that he hasn't tried to tell her to come back to their world—his world, now—and that he hasn't even tried to dissuade from what she's doing. It's not like she's enjoying it, though, so maybe (hopefully) he can tell. "Don't say anything."
"I l—" he begins to say, ignoring her request for him to keep his trap shut, and so Rose quickly slams the door before she can hear the word love, because that would destroy her resolve.
"Goodbye, Scor," she whispers to herself, watching as the car screeches away from the kerb and disappears around the corner, a shadow blurring into obscurity. "I'll miss you."
Something tells her that this is goodbye forever—at least, she hopes.
"How was it?" Angela asks immediately, pouncing on Rose, and before she can see the thickness of the wad of cash, Rose hides it in her purse. It's dark enough for the older woman not to have seen anything, and for this, Rose is grateful; she doesn't want the woman getting any of her money. Especially as it's her money.
"I…not bad," she says, lying through her teeth. It was the most wonderful, yet most awful hour and a quarter of her life, because all the memories are stirring up from her past, and Rose isn't sure if she'll be able to hide them again. "He said he'd pay me next time he sees me—but I don't know when that is." She makes something up about money and payments, not sure of the words she's saying, just aware that they're covering up the issue that Angela's only ever interested in.
"Very well," Angela says, her tone somewhat colder than it was before, and begins to walk away. "I'll see you Monday, the usual place. Got it?"
Rose nods, not bothering to speak as she walks away from the corner, wrapping her arms around her body to try and keep in some of the warmth lost from just being in Scorpius' company. She wishes that she could forget him, push him out of her head like she's (almost) managed to do for nine years.
Unfortunately, she can't.
~x~
A few days pass, and Rose doesn't have to go to 'work', so instead, she begins work on handing out more CVs; she's desperate for any type of job, preferably in something to do with the journalism world, but she'll work anywhere. Literally.
Anything is better than what she does now.
Rose sits in her living room and counts the money: nine thousand pounds. That's enough for her to live on for almost a year, if her calculations are correct, but what then? She knows that she can't blow all the money now—that wouldn't be practical, and it would be wasteful—so with a heavy heart, she puts two thirds of it into a high-interest ISA, something that'll give her a ridiculous amount of money in a year's time; that's her planning for the future.
The rest of the money she uses to stock up her fridge, to get the odds and ends jobs needing to be done around her home completed, and enrols on GCSE English and Maths course at the local college, just so that she's getting the basic Muggle qualifications to be able to work anywhere that's a) legal and b) got the opportunity to be promoted. They're on Mondays, 9am-2pm, Wednesdays, 9:30am-3pm and Saturdays, 1pm-4:30pm, and Rose has a feeling that she'll be able to complete the exams a lot quicker than everyone else in the class.
Given that the booklet she was given had "IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU'RE ALREADY ON FOR A GRADE" on the front, she's almost certain it'll take her no time at all.
It's Monday day time and she's scared about going back to work, because what if Scorpius turns up? She doesn't know if he's going to try and contact her again—they didn't finish off the conversation, really—and if he's there…she doesn't know what she'll do. This is her life now, this mess of attempting to claw herself out of a pit and spending nights doing things she'd rather never think about again, and Scorpius is part of who she was before, when she was Rose Weasley, witch extraordinaire—something she hasn't been for quite some time.
No matter how much she can avoid thinking of him, of home, when she's awake, when she's slumbering that's all she can think of; Scorpius and herself, dancing through one of Hogwarts' fields, their lips locking together…the way that he had to spend an entire three hours placating her father to make him believe that he wasn't going to try and throw her off the San Francisco bridge on their first date (to this day, Rose doesn't know where her dad got that idea from) and then finally persuading him by yelling the words, "I think I love her, alright?!"
It's reaching the point where she's considering phoning Angela and making up some crap about her head feeling as though it's about to explode, when the phone rings.
"Speak of the devil," Rose mutters, pressing the green button to answer the phone. "Hey, Angela. What can I do for you today?"
"I'm ringing to inform you that your client from the other night has requested your company again," she says, her voice a mixture of excitement and irritation. "I don't see why he'd want you, with your cleavage—" Rose looks down at her chest and flushes, "but he does, so you're to meet him at Trafalgar Square at eight pm. And he said for you to wear something nice—I'd take that to mean the lace underwear, not your usual leather…"
"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, then," Rose replies, her mind already focused on the question: does she go? She could get away with not going, if she doesn't have to meet him via Angela…but could she hurt him like that?
"Before you go," Angela says quickly, sensing that Rose was about to hang up. "We need to discuss how much you're giving me of your payment—for orchestrating this meeting."
"We'll discuss this another time," Rose says, for the first time being able to call the shots, to an extent. "I've got to go…go get ready." And with that, she hangs up the phone.
Burying her head in her hands, Rose begins to panic; does she stay, or does she go? Does she let Scorpius think that he's got a chance of dragging her back to the wizarding world by making her fall in love with him all over again…or does she just stay away and hope that he gets the message?
She could go…she could go and tell him that it's over, that they're nothing with this new, whorish version of herself, and that there's absolutely no chance that she's going back. At least then she could feel certain that she had closure, and ensure that he never comes back to darken her doorstep (figuratively speaking) again.
Slowly, Rose stands up and moves towards the bathroom. She wants to look her best tonight, for whatever reason.
(She definitely doesn't consider the idea that she's still completely, irrevocably in love with him.)
~x~
She's a couple of minutes early to their meeting point, standing at the statue in the Square, and she suddenly begins to get nervous; is she doing the right thing? Will she be able to spend a night with him and not get drawn back into thinking that they've got a future together? After all, she's the one who left the world of magic, the one who felt the pressures get too much for her to ever be able to handle, not him. He belongs there, Scorpius Malfoy, the golden prince of the newest generation of of-age wizards—she doesn't.
"Hello, Rosie," he says, his voice coming from behind her, and Rose jumps involuntarily. "You're looking beautiful tonight."
Rose blushes as she turns around to face Scorpius, before she remembers that this isn't a date, and that she isn't going out with him—this is a paid thing. "Scorpius, I need to tell you something—" she begins, but he cuts her off.
"Look, I know what you're going to say, and can it wait until we've eaten?" he asks, already beginning to walk—and Rose feels the need to walk with him. "I am absolutely famished—some goblins decided…never mind—and I think that we should at least have a full belly before you tell me that you're happier without magic and that you don't need me in your life."
Rose has to smile at this, despite herself. The man knows her too well.
"Alright," she replies. "But we're having pizza—no argument."
~x~
Once they're as full as they can be, Rose decides that she has to start. "I…thank you for this," she says as Scorpius insists on paying the whole bill prior to them walking out of the restaurant. "But, this is it. I can't see you anymore."
He smiles and begins a lazily paced stroll, headed down towards the pond in the park to their left. "I knew you'd say that, so tell me: why? What, do I remind you too much of magic?"
"Yes," she replies, her voice sad. "I miss you, but this is my life now, a world free of the constraints and expectations that were placed on me because of who I was born, and the way that I conducted myself. And I can't let my worlds get mixed up any more than they already have; it's not right. I had a life and I abandoned it in favour of this one—I can't be that far off making it, can I?"
Scorpius stops suddenly, turning towards Rose and reaching out for her. His touch sends sparks racing through Rose and this is what she wanted to avoid—the feeling that he always brought about, the one that makes her want to drop everything and just kiss him. "Tell me something, Rosie. Do you miss magic?"
"Don't call me Rosie!" she snaps, before realising that he's been calling her it the entire time they've been together, and besides for the first time, she hasn't commented. "But…yes. I miss having my wand and a magic fix to everything—I have to get electricians in now to fix things, and I still don't understand how to plug in this new washing machine, and it's more than that. I miss the feeling that magic brought about in me, this ability to be good at something, and to always have a way out of things…but I can't have that. I couldn't take my wand, because then my mum and dad would have thought that I was maybe going back, and that hope would have destroyed them, in the end."
Scorpius nods slowly and releases Rose's wrist. "So you're telling me that even though you still love me—and I can see it in your eyes, Rose, so don't lie to me—you're going to abandon me because you want to live your life as a Muggle with no wizards whatsoever?" he confirms, his voice colder than before. "Why? You're a witch, even though you're trying to forget that part of your life, but that's something you can't remove from your DNA! I could live with you, go to work in the Ministry and you could still do your writing, and then we could be happy, together, in this world."
She shakes her head, and with that one movement, she sees all the hope leave Scorpius' eyes. "I can't do that, Scor. I'm sorry. You're right, I'm a witch and if I could do magic just for me, that'd be fine—but I can't go and get a wand now, can I? You are—you were—everything to me, but I can't ask you to leave the wizarding world for me. I can't. That would be selfish."
She reaches up and runs her hand along his cheek once, for old time's sake, and tries to pretend that tears aren't blurring her vision. "I can't let you do that for me—I won't. So goodbye, Scorpius."
And with that, she walks away.
And he doesn't follow.
(She wishes he does, though, and she even slows down her pace just before she rounds the corner. The crack she hears tells her that he's given up, Disapparated already, though, so she tries to pretend to herself that she wasn't expecting him to chase.)
Ok, so the second part of this will be up relatively soon.
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