Scorpius walks past them in the hallway every day, always in that same little space by the window, flirting and kissing and laughing and smiling. Every day, he wishes that somebody would throw a rock and break that stupid window, and maybe Lysander's front teeth, too. He would never wish anything like that on her, of course. Alana, with her bluejay colored eyes, her playful smile, her intense glare. Scorpius smirks as he thinks about how ignorant Lysander is, not knowing what happens when he's not around. He remembers the other night, in his dormitory, her lips pressed against his, him tangling his hands in her beautiful auburn hair. He glances at her and she looks at him, just for a split second, and the bluejay eyes seem to scream their apology, just for that moment. Scorpius just keeps walking.