Queen JKR owns all recognizeable content as well as what's left of my soul.

Some of you may recognize most of this story from here: s/8568256/1/Nice-to-Meet-You-Scorpius. But wait! It's not plagiarism, I'm actually the same person, 5 years older and with absolutely zero memory of my original login information. So when I wanted to revisit this original smutty story and make the hot and steamy scenes more explicit, in the name of ma...stering the fine arts, I had to do so as a different account. So here we are.

My apologies for thrusting my 20-something bedroom experience on teenagers. AAAND without further ado, some plotless smut for you:


When I first saw him on Platform 9 3/4 on 1 September 2017, the first irrational thought to cross my mind was something along the lines of, "Is this the child of fallen angels?" Some nonsense like that. Even after my dad broke my reverie by going on about beating him in every test, I still had that first impression of him burned into my mind's eye. And then, on the train, I wanted to go look for him, but my unlimited number of cousins decided that Al and I needed sheltering from the big bad world of Hogwarts. So I didn't see him again until after we got off the boats. But by then we were all scared silly in anticipation of the Sorting, so I could only watch as the Hat proclaimed, "Slytherin!" and he walked to join a sea of green, and I later joined my cousins in Gryffindor. I guessed that was the end of that baseless infatuation, because even the young, naive, 11-year-old me knew that Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix.

So after that, what else could I do? I beat him in every subject, on every test. Doesn't mean that my opinion of his appearance changed one whit. Half the female population at Hogwarts seems to agree with me. Starting fifth year, he frequently has two big-chested girls hanging off of him, they change every other day, and a group of girls follows him around, worshipping the very ground he treads on. But he treats all of them with cold indifference, and I almost feel bad for them. Almost. Bimbos.

Now we're going into our seventh year at Hogwarts and his (more mature) appearance is still the most gorgeous of any guy I have ever known. Well, "known" is a bit of a stretch. Having a couple N.E.W.T.-level classes together hardly counts, 'cause there's always other students between me and him: if not our own housemates, then Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Oh well. We've been assigned together for a couple in-class projects and, oh Merlin, were they awkward. We had nothing to say to each other. Nothing at all, other than the task at hand. So while the other pairs had lively conversations on the side, Malfoy and I sat in stony silence, barely even looking at each other. But we got the work done faster and better than anyone else, if that's any consolation. Oh boy. A couple of these awkward-beyond-extreme projects, and I stopped wishing to be his partner, preferring to admire him from afar.

Late August before my seventh year, my family hosts a party to celebrate a lot of things, including my appointment as Head Girl! Toward the end of the night, my friends and I speculate about who is going to be Head Boy. We work through the list of prefects in our year, and based on our reasoning, we conclude that Scorpius Malfoy is likely to be Head Boy, much to my trepidation.

Despite this mental preparation, I am still stopped short in my tracks when I walk into the prefects' meeting on the Hogwarts Express on the first day of seventh year. We were right. In contrast to my obvious surprise, he looks bored.

Well, this should be fun.

If fun means more of those stony silences that were much too familiar during our partner work periods.

Much to my surprise, though, Malfoy, at our first Heads-only meeting, says, "So, Rose. I feel like I don't know you very well, and since we'll be working together for the rest of the year, how was your summer?"

After I recover, I reply, "Fantastic. Played Quidditch every day with my cousins."

"You play Keeper, right?" (I play for Gryffindor during the season.)

I nod. "Yeah. But I almost feel like the field we use during the summer is nicer than the school stadium, 'cause the hoops at school are covered with years of chewing gum discarded by careless Keepers. It's really gross."

Malfoy smiles his angel smile, says, "Then I'll just have to hex anyone who adds to the wreckage."

I laugh. Here's another reason he's so popular among the ladies: he's a goddamn sweet talker. And it sounds so beautiful.

Maybe being Heads won't be so bad after all.

For the first three months, Malfoy and I chat, banter, mostly. It starts pretty shallow, we find out about each others' hobbies. He likes muggle action films, who would have guessed! This is especially surprising, given what I've learned from my parents about what his father was like in school. He jokes that we should catch one of the upcoming films together. (Or is it a joke? My view of everything that happened changed massively…as you will soon see.) We can carry a pretty lively conversation when it comes to these things, but somehow when we get to life-things, like plans for the future, our families, and general philosophy – what we want out of school, life, etc., the conversation falls flat and we silently return to the task at hand. I feel better about our working relationship, but that I still barely know the kid. But I'm asking for too much. I should be thankful that we're talking at all. Still, he never seems to pass up a chance to exercise his golden tongue on me.

It's nice that Malfoy is making an effort to not be awkward, but we still spend most of each meeting, when we're not working that is, sitting in silence, me staring surreptitiously at his face and him looking at his papers. Oh well. It's just one two-hour meeting a week.

One night in early December, the week before the Winter Ball, we are sitting in the Heads' meeting room, looking over the prefects' plans and adding finishing touches. It's been nearly two hours without a break, so I lean back on the arm of my side of the couch, look at his gorgeous face and say, "You know, Malfoy-"

"Scorpius," he interrupts abruptly. "Call me Scorpius."

I am puzzled by this request; never before this year has he objected to the whole last name thing. Maybe since we've spent so much time working together we've progressed to friends? I shrug it off and continue, "Well, okay, Scorpius—" but suddenly I'm having trouble breathing, because he's RIGHT THERE and I mean RIGHT THERE, he's crawled across the couch and he's currently caged on top of me, and his expression is nothing short of FERAL. His steel-blue eyes seem to be fixed on my mouth and though on any other day I could come up with a dozen good reasons that I should just shove him off, I can't pretend that I haven't imagined us in this position before.

I gasp a little and try to regain control of the situation (completely futilely). I manage to get out a breathy, "Scorpius-" before he lowers his lips to mine and my eyes close of their own accord and I reach up to grab his face and tangle my fingers in his hair which he takes as encouragement and it's not like I'm protesting and he deepens the kiss and our tongues are fighting for dominance and his torso is pressed into mine now and I don't want this to stop.

But eventually we have to come up for air and when we do he pulls back, breathing hard, and he looks flustered. Jerk. Who gave him the right to be the flustered one?

"I'm so sorry, Rose, I don't know what came over me," he says, and this feels like rejection so I just look away and mumble, "Don't worry about it," but that's not really what I want to say, so we stare at the floor for a few minutes until one or the other of us collects our bearing to get back to this dance planning. Fortunately we're just about done so it doen't take too much longer… And thank goodness for that! I need to go tell a girlfriend, stat!

But everyone else is asleep by the time I get back and maybe I want some time to process what has happened before I say anything, and the next day we're back to being busy with last minute schoolwork things, so I decide to wait till winter break and just carry on but I don't call him Scorpius anymore. Not if "Scorpius" is gonna do that all the time. Now it's back to Malfoy: hey Malfoy, Malfoy this, Malfoy-what-about-that, etc.

Imagine how much fun the Winter Ball is, what with being head coordinators. Tradition dictates that we have to take the first dance, so I spend the duration of the song looking anywhere but his face, but his hand in mine and his other hand on my waist feel electric and even I can't convince myself that it's just the thrill of spinning. Fortunately I can escape to my friends after that, but some of them keep giving me sidelong glances for the rest of the night. Weird.

Yup. Lots of fun.

A couple days into winter break, I just have to tell my best friend and confidante, Alice Longbottom, else I'm gonna burst. So we meet up at a muggle coffee shop, and when I finish telling her what happened, her face looks like the emoji motion picture on fast forward. First she's angry (that I didn't tell her?), then devastated (that I didn't trust her?) but this is soon replaced with sheer incredulity – she looks at me as if I'm nuts, then busts up laughing.

"Will you please calm down a second? I'm having a crisis here!"

She takes a deep breath, pulls a serious face, and ends up doubled over in laughter again. We're getting some weird looks from other patrons, so I drag her outside, where she collapses into the snow, still laughing. So I decide to just talk at her.

"We have nothing to say to each other. Our personalities just don't fit. I mean, I'm sure he has a personality, but it just doesn't come out when he's around me. To me he's just an angelic face and a brain. I feel awkward around him, always. I'm athletic, he's not. We're both outgoing when with friends-" Remember? I spent six years just watching his gorgeous face. "-but I get really goofy around him, trying and failing to break the tension, and he gets all like, weird, almost patronizy sometimes, and he laughs at me when I do something particularly stupid. It's a nice laugh and maybe he's just teasing, but I'm starting to think that all we have in common is that we're both smart. It would never work, there's just no chemistry. WHY did McGonagall assign us to be Heads?" I smash my face into my palms.

Alice has calmed down by now, probably from the cold, and asks, holding her ribs, "You'd never called him by his first name before?" I nod. "And the first time you called him 'Scorpius' he attacked you?" Another nod. "And you've never called him 'Scorpius' again since then?"

"Yup. Pretty much," I say flatly.

Alice gets a little devilish look on her face, and I start to worry about the next words out of her mouth: "Try it again. See what happens. Then we can gauge from there and assess what to do."

She pauses. "I have a hunch, though, from the way that he was looking at you during your Heads' dance at the Winter Ball." She leers at me.

"What!"

"You weren't looking at him during your dance?"

"No! I was trying to look anywhere BUT him!"

"You should have looked at him… He was looking at you like he was blinded by the sun but couldn't look away…"

"You're making this up!"

"I'm not! I wish I could have some man look at me that way…" Alice sighs, a huge, overdramatic, overly romantic sigh.

I roll my eyes at her, then shiver. "How about we get out of the cold?" I extend my hand to help pull Alice off the ground.

On our walk back to the Apparition point, Alice suddenly turns to me and asks, "What about you? Do you like him?"

"I-" I can't find words to finish that sentence. I do! But I feel so conflicted about all of our history, and lack thereof, and I need time to process what Alice has told me about the dance, and, and, I'm out of excuses.

Alice smiles knowingly, and says, "How about I phrase it this way – if you're into him, you'll proceed with our little experiment of calling him by his first name. And if you're not, then, well, you won't."

That stops me in my tracks. "I will!" I say, "But only because I'm curious!"

Alice smirks at me and drawls, "Sure," drawing out the U. "See you later!"

The rest of the holiday passes relatively peacefully; I spend time with my (huge) extended family, play Quidditch in the snow, engage in snowball wars, celebrate Christmas and the new year surrounded by friends and family and Nana Weasley's delicious cooking, and try to avoid thinking about Scorpius Malfoy.