Hi everyone, this is my first real Harry Potter fanfic, and better yet, it's my first Scorose fic! This story has been swirling around in my brain for a while, and while it has mysterious plot going on, it is most definitely a Scorose fic. I intend to focus on them as the subplot goes on, which is just a tool to explore the beloved pairing.

Anywho, enough about that. The beginning may seem random and weird, but you needn't worry, It'll make sense soon enough.

Without further ado, enjoy the first chapter of And Then There Were Three.

Hidden within the shadows cast by the looming housing complexes, Celia Jones scuttled along the small alleyway. Head ducked as she contemplated the manners in which she could conclude the essay stowed away in her bag, the young woman paid no particular attention to where she stepped, simply walking along the short cut she had come to use liberally since exam season had begun and late nights at the library became more frequent.

There was nothing unusual about the night. Silence prevailed, as it always did at that hour, with only the constant tapping of her shoes against the pavement, and the occasional blare of a car's horn as it shot through the neighborhood. However, despite the wholly unremarkable start to the night, Celia would never quite forget the end.

It must be stressed, again, that there was never much unusual occurring in this part of town, hence, Celia felt completely comfortable walking through dark alleyways alone at the ungodly hour. She knew that no one was found there after 8, and since it was well after 10, she filtered through the network of alleys and narrow pathways with ease.

That is, until the soft patterns of a conversation pulled her out of her reverie.

Freezing at the sound of voices conversing ahead, which she soon discovered belonged to the pair of men standing at the upcoming turn, Celia instinctively, yet slowly and quietly, stepped behind the bags and cans of rubbish that was piled outside the backdoor to one of the flats in the complex. Successfully hidden, she chose to wait until the suspicious characters left, as to prevent herself from falling into trouble that the two shrouded figures invited. However, human curiosity prevented her from not overhearing the conversation, and Celia found herself peaking through the bags as the shorter, and portlier of the two, passed his companion what was only distinguishable as a lump, hidden within folds of fabric in which it was wrapped.

"That's the last."

The smile which blossomed on his companion's face was chilling.

"Excellent." He carefully slid the small object into the inner pockets of his choice of outerwear, which, peculiarly, was longer and more flowy than typical coats worn.

Appearing nervous, especially in face of his stoic companion, the first man nodded fervently before gathering the courage to speak again, "I went to great lengths to acquire this, as you know. Id hope that the payment-"

Cutting him off as he stumbled through his speech, the second man produces a small bag, and gives it a little shake. The jingling sound made suggests its filled with some kind of metal, and in context, Celia, bewildered, imagined that it is full of coins.

Who on God's green earth pays with coins?

Despite her reservations, the man seems to have been quieted by satisfaction, and a smile appears on his plump face.

"However," The other man begins in a low, almost detached manner, "I must be convinced that you will not speak of this matter- especially not to the goons at the ministry."

His companion chuckled easily, "You needn't worry. I head the department. They won't even look this way."

"Yes, yes," He replies impatiently, "but what if your superiors come asking. Will you tell them?"

"Of course not!" The other man assures, "I have just as much to lose as you if I were to tell the truth."

Yet, despite assurances, the man did not seem convinced in the slightest, that the man had as much to lose as him. And with what seemed like a quick contemplative look, in a flash, he pulled out a short stick from the folds of his odd cloak and wordlessly pointed at the shorter man.

The expression of horror seeped onto his companions face, but before much more could happen, a bright flash of green light exploded from the tip of the stick, the force of which seemed to throw the man back.

Moments later, the glow of the green light still illuminating the alley, a pop sounded and the other man disappeared, leaving the unmoving body of his companion.

With shaking hands, and gripped firmly by the purest forms of bewilderment, Celia dialed 112.

***
VICTIM OR CRIMINAL?

Head of Office of Requisition and Control of Dark Artefacts, William Pinkinson, found dead in Muggle neighborhood. Death confirmed to be murder, however the circumstances surrounding his passing indicate some foul-play.

Brows, the same auburn colour of her neatly plaited hair, were furrowed as Rose Weasley intently skimmed through the article that addressed the source of the buzz that filled the Ministry of Magic that morning.

All morning, the peculiar death of Will Pinkinson had been on the lips of a vast majority of the ministry workers, making it impossible to avoid overhearing the name as she passed by her fellow Aurors on her way to her office. Naturally, curiosity reigned over her, as it usually did, and the first thing she did was pull out the Daily Prophet, and now, in the security and comfort of her office, read through the headlines, her fingers instinctively tugging at her hair, undoing the neat plait she had arrived with.

She was deep in the process of both attempting to puzzle out the death in question, and completely ruin her hair, when a short knock sounded at her door.

Still completely immersed in her own world of mystery, she distractedly called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open and was followed by the dull thuds of footfalls against the carpeted floor, which slowly, but effectively pulls Rose out of her reverie. She slowly turns her head up to address the newcomer, but her eyes are fixated on the page, darting along to the lines as she attempts to soak it all in.

"Weasley." The familiarly deep tenor to her name made her freeze. Eye wide, her head snaps up the the man before with a speed that was bound to give her whiplash.

The chair was pushed back clumsily, thankfully not making a sound against the carpet, as Rose shot up from her seat, the forgotten newspaper falling from her lap.

"Unc-Mr. Potter," Rose managed calmly enough, with a bitter formality she reserved only for the office, not wanting her colleagues to think of her as being recipient to special treatment from her uncle.

Aged well into his late forties, Harry James Potter, Head of the Auror Department, was thought of with great reverence, and often fear, among the other Aurors, especially the younger ones, who had grown up with stories of his heroics.

However, while Rose may have managed to keep her interactions with her Uncle professional in the office, believe her when she says it was a right challenge. Seeing him as nothing but the same Uncle Harry, who she had, first-hand, seen set fire, not only once, but a total of four times, to numerous batches of pancakes, (in an attempt to compete with her father's culinary skill) made it difficult for Rose to view him as authority.

Nonetheless, determined to be completely professional, she always managed to plough through meetings and such- but his visiting her office, that was new.

Harry nodded in response, waving his arm in a silent request for her to remain seated. She complies, pulling her chair back under her as her uncle takes a seat across from her, looking, for the first time since she started here, mildly uncomfortable.

"May I get you anything?" She inquired softly, breaking the short, but awkward stretch of silence that prevailed momentarily, "Tea? Coffee? Wat-"

"Nothing at all Weasley. I simply came down to discuss a proposition for you. Hopefully, it won't take up much time, and you can soon go back to-" he peered at the case files open on her desk, quickly skimming over the titles, "the exotic tea smuggler you're tracking." He finished somewhat lamely, his distaste for Rose's choice of cases seeping through ever so slightly.

He had always thought her choice to limit herself to paper work and low-profile, often petty cases, was unbecoming, instead wanting her to pursue more ambitious cases, which were, according to him, 'better suited for your talents'.

But to her, nothing suited her better than being away from all the action.

"A proposition?", she inquired mildly, ignoring the aforementioned disapproval with which he had spoken of her case, and continuing carefully, "It's been a while since you've approached me with a proposition."

The curious, and somewhat accusatory quality to her enunciation of 'proposition' stemmed from her past experience with Harry's attempts to manipulate her into taking up high-profile cases. Initially Harry had dismissed Rose's demand to be prescribed only menial desk work, seeing it as a personally injury that his niece take up work so below her caliber, and through her supervisor, had sent her way innumerable exciting cases. Werewolves, former Death Eaters, and characters that normally frequented Knockturn Alley, but she stressed that she was perfectly content with the cases she had, citing the thrill of tracking old witches who, with carefully planted love potion, had been bewitching young wizards to fall for them. It was quiet entertaining.

The offers eventually stopped coming, but when they had come, Harry Potter had never approached her with one personally.

Sensing the slight derision in her tone, Harry leans back in the chair uncomfortably, adjusting his glasses before answering.

"Yes, it has, hasn't it," he mused quietly before pinning Rose with a look of controlled intensity.

At that point, Rose began to feel a bit uncomfortable, but before she could do much about it, Harry continued.

"After you so firmly reminded me of our initial deal, and stressed upon it's importance to you, I thought it better I leave you be."

She nodded along hesitantly, recalling the conversation with surprising clarity.

"However," her Uncle leaned forward in the seat, clearing his throat ever so slightly before he continued, "it appears there is a field op that requires your exact skill set."

The discomfort she had felt was immediately replaced by twinges of annoyance and frustration at the statement, and Rose, barely refraining from rolling her eyes, turned away from her Uncle, instead turning back to the Daily Prophet that had fallen on the floor.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly capable data analyst somewhere in the Auror department for the job, because this one," she pointed at herself, anger flashing through her usually bright eyes, "refuses."

He responded only with a heavy sigh.

Rose dismissed him then, dropping the façade of professionalism and expressing her annoyance with candor, and childishness, addressing him completely as she would address her Uncle.

"Rose." There was resignation, and a hint of frustration in the way he said her name, but surprisingly, also a bit of desperation. Just enough to make her look up.

"Harry." She responded with unfounded rudeness, which she regretted immediately, as her Uncle raised a dark eyebrow at the absence of the usual title.

This time Rose sighed.

"Uncle Harry," she amended.

"Better." Harry nodded, coming to address her as we would usually address his favourite niece. (Not that anyone knew that. He would deny if asked)

"Uncle, seriously, you know I'm going to refuse any field op. Why do you insist on being rejected again and again?"

His lips twitched, surely thinking of some horrible joke about her rejection comment, but, thankfully, does not voice it. Instead he stayed on track, and replied earnestly, "I respect your decision, Rose. I do."

At her look of disbelief, he huffed.

"I do," he insisted, "Why else would I back off? Rose, honestly, I wouldn't come to you if I had any other option."

"Is that desperation I hear?" Rose teased, "From the great Harry Potter?"

Rolling his eyes, (He takes it back, Molly's his favourite niece now) he agreed, "Yes, the great Harry Potter is desperate."

Rose sensed the change in atmosphere, triggered by his words. The somewhat casual air evaporates and she straightened up slowly, the mirth vanishing from her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Harry shot her an apologetic look, "I can't say until you agree to join the team."

The moment is broken.

With a breathy but mirthless laugh, Rose shook her head.

"You can't say?" Her tone was biting, her question both incredulous and mocking. She scoffed in irritation. "And there's a team? Yeah," she leaned back in her own seat, "count me out."

"Rose, please. It's important, trust me."

Chewing the inside of her cheek in contemplation, after a beat of silence passed between them, she slowly met his eye, almost apologetically, "Uncle Harry, even if I wanted to, joining a team has protocols. Compatibility tests," She starts listing, but shakes her head, another thought occurring to her, "and then there's me! I need to be cleared for field ops again- my test results have probably expired by now-"

"They haven't," Harry interrupted her rambling, "and as for Compatibility, that's tested immediately after you graduate from the Academy. You may not have pursued a path with partners, but prospective partners were chosen for you."

He conjured a thin manila folder, placing it in front of her, "The Aurors you'll be joining are the best pair of Aurors I have. The case was already there's, but new developments pushed us to organize an operation that needed a third member."

"Do you want to elaborate?"

Groaning at how difficult the witch was being, Harry reluctantly continued, "Look, they may be the finest duo of Aurors I have, but they can be a bit, " he trailed off, looking for the right word, "childish."

Rose looked concerned.

"And that's why we need you. The operation needs to be thought out completely, with all the details accounted for, which I'm afraid the two aren't capable of. Plus, you're not only the best analyst I have, but also the only one compatible with both of them."

She glanced down at the manila folder before her, becoming increasingly apprehensive of the contents therein.

Still reluctant to go on the field and put herself in the position that she avoided to be in so prolifically, Rose tried to argue again, "But I have no experience with high profile cases. If it's bad enough to make you desperate, you can't trust me to-"

"Please," he drawled in an exasperated manner, "I know that you've been going over cases for Mckinley and Ajax, and all those other tossers. They could have never figured out any of the cases had it not been for your talent at solving puzzles."

Flustered at being caught, Rose is silenced.

"Go on," Harry motioned to the folder, "have a look."

Swallowing instinctively, Rose flipped the folder open to reveal a lone sheet of paper. She skimmed past the description and explanation of the results on the top, moving straight to the first name.

Only candidates with percentage compatibility of 90% or more, with Rose N. Weasley, are included in the results below.

Percentage Compatibility is listed in ascending order.

Name of Auror Candidate

Percentage Compatibility

Laura Hangley

92%

Laura Hangley had been a cadet with her. A sweet girl, with a spunky side which only revealed itself when the small girl was inebriated.

A thoroughly unexpected, but not unpleasant, match.

Rose moved onto the next name, and for a second, she swore her heart stopped beating.

Harry J. Potter

94%

"Woah," She gawked at her Uncle, jaw unhinged, as if she had never quite seen him before, "We're compatible."

He simply chuckled at her awestruck expression, "Yes, we are. You're the second Auror to have above 90% compatibility with me, but the one with the highest percentage."

His matter of fact tone helped her very little to process the data.

She continues down the list, assured that no name could be as shocking as the one she had just read, but is proven wrong as her eyes fell onto the next name.

Albus S. Potter

96%

She broke out into a delighted smile as she recognizes the name of her beloved cousin, finding it particularly humorous that she got both father and son in her results.

"Al! I got Al too. Father and son. Quite the feat, no?" She couldn't help but tease.

With another roll of his eyes he gestured for her to continue, and she complied, looking down to the last name in high spirits, only to have the smile slide right off her face.

Scorpius H. Malfoy

100%

Immediately her brows knotted together as she scrunched up her nose unattractively, completely confused.

"Malfoy?"

Harry watched apprehensively as she broke into an internal monologue.

Malfoy? I've barely spoken a word to the bloke- what the hell is he doing in my comp- and with a 100% compatibility!

Internalising the mental equivalent of spluttering, Rose tried to gauge how the test decided pairs. It was a magical test, of course, and no one really knew how it worked- only that it was never wrong.

And that thought scared the ever living spirit of Dumbledore out of her.

Then, all of a sudden she recalled her Uncle's words.

You're not only the best analyst I have, but also the only one compatible with both of them.

She was compatible with these mysterious Auror partners- both of them. And as far as she knew, Laura was not Uncle Harry's partner, but Al, and his ruddy best friend from Hogwarts, Scorpius Bloody Malfoy, were!

The partners she was going to join were Al and Malfoy.

Harry could legitimately hear the snap of her neck as she whipped her head up to pin him with a mixture of a horrified, terrified and furious look.

"No way in hell."

Scorpius and Al will be in the next chapter I promise and after that their great adventure kicks off! Stay tuned, and be sure to review (constructive criticism is welcome), and favourite/follow if you enjoyed it and wanna read more. Until next time x