Issue 1: Homecoming

There was something akin to magic in the air this Hogwarts day.

First of all, there was a gaggle of girls waiting in the courtyard, hands clasped and red-faced from excitement.

Second, Albus Potter and the rest of Slytherin were beaming their faces off as they yammered away at the house table, unnaturally raucous and merry on an otherwise ordinary Autumn afternoon.

But the third—and oddest thing of all—was the shrill, ghastly wails emerging from the girls' bathroom near the dungeons, where Potions classes were taken.

Rose Weasley was the only one to notice, having stayed behind after class to clarify a few matters regarding the brewing of a Wolfsbane potion with Professor Slughorn. The sheer intensity of the crying stopped Rose dead in her tracks. She waited a moment to see if it would cease, but another hysterical wail followed. Being the responsible Prefect, Rose hurried over to the oft-deserted bathroom to investigate.

The shriek that greeted her when she entered made her jump. It was no ghost.

"Warrington?" Rose blurted.

Her Slytherin classmate was huddled in one of the stalls, her face streaked with tears and her usually impeccable makeup running. Rose was absolutely taken aback to see Blaine Warrington in this state—the girl was well known for her icy and collected demeanor, and always made a picture-perfect impression. It was unusual to see any Slytherin girl cry in a public space. They were too proud for that.

At present, Rose's first reaction to this unsightly meltdown was to pull out her black and yellow handkerchief and offer it to Blaine.

It took a few minutes of shushing and a backrub or two for Blaine to calm down. She sniffled into the hanky and breathed deeply, her tears soaking into the Hufflepuff crest, before she finally met Rose's eyes (Rose wasn't sure if Blaine could see through the tears before).

"It's over," she croaked.

"What is?" Rose asked gently. "Of course, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to—"

"Me. And Scorpius." Saying the name was enough to set Blaine off the second time, her bawling echoing off the stone walls. Rose spent the rest of lunch patting Blaine's shoulder, letting the distraught girl keep her hanky to hide her smeared eyeliner.

When Rose finally makes it to the Great Hall, she was greeted by a most incredible scene. Girls and boys of all houses stood elbow to elbow by the Slytherin table, cameras going off left and right. There was a palpable air of excitement. In the midst of the chaos was Albus Potter—oh. Oh.

There he was. Scorpius Malfoy.

Rose could barely make it to her seat at the Hufflepuff table without getting jostled in the face. She was happy for Albus, of course, that he got his best friend back. But the circus Scorpius invited every time he returned was intensely overwhelming. Everyone loved to see him.

She joined her friend, Mathilda Fletchley, at the end of the table. Mathilda was clutching a Witch Weekly magazine with Scorpius gracing the cover, calling out his name and shrieking a little too enthusiastically. Coverboy Scorpius winked at Rose, and Rose couldn't help but snort. A flirt even in print.

"He's back, he's finally back!" Mathilda trilled, as Rose ducked under her friend's arm to help herself to the potatoes. "Oh Rose, look at him!"

Rose rolled her eyes, but across the tables she finally caught a glimpse of the beautiful Scorpius Malfoy. Breaker of hearts, Britain's fashion sweetheart, and the new face of cousin Victoire's wizarding couture brand, Delacour.

She last saw him in the summer. He was better looking than she remembered, with his white-blond hair slicked back to reveal lightning blue eyes. He had beautifully sculpted cheekbones, and a smile that could melt Honeydukes' finest. In an interview somewhere, Scorpius claimed to like Quidditch, but not enough to play it. Certainly, he was not an athlete. His was a slim, lanky physique made to parade the runways of the wizarding world's most acclaimed fashion houses.

It really was insane how far he's come since first year, Rose thought absently, stuffing her mouth with potatoes as she watched Albus and Scorpius engage in a boyishly elaborate fist bump. Honestly, who would thought that delicate, reticent little Scorpius Malfoy would become…

At that moment, Rose's eyes met Scorpius' piercing blue ones, and she choked on her potatoes.

"He just looked at me!" Mathilda hissed breathlessly, grabbing Rose by the collar. "Rose! He looked at me! In the name of Helga Hufflepuff—"

Scorpius was talking to Albus again. Rose straightened up, trying to hide her blush. Well, she could certainly understand why the girls were going insane.

One couldn't blame her for getting the jitters around a boy that looked like that.

"He just broke up with Blaine," she said instead, reaching for a chicken leg.

"Who?"

"His girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend now. Blaine Warrington."

Mathilda's delighted shriek almost ignited a migraine. "What? How did you know? Tell—me—everything! Does this mean I have a chance?"

Funny, Rose thought wearily, how one boy could turn an entire school upside down.

The uproar over Scorpius' return calmed down somewhat the next day. Scorpius was back in class, loudmouthed and laughing. Rose bumped into Albus and Scorpius on their way to Transfiguration, and Scorpius grinned at her. "Rosie-kins!"

They were never close; if anything, Rose was only civil to him out of respect for Albus. She ignored the blush rising in her cheeks—he was bloody handsome and she was a normal girl, of course she'd react—and raised an eyebrow at his informality. "Scorpius. Welcome back."

"Still so quiet and so stoic," Scorpius said playfully. "Surely you've loosened up since the last time we met?"

"She's not going to fall all over you like everyone else, give it up," Albus grumbled, throwing an arm over Rose's shoulder. "It's in our blood."

"True," Rose said dryly, as Scorpius pouted at her. "I was quite enjoying the peace and quiet you left behind."

"Al, your cousin honestly breaks my heart," Scorpius said dolefully.

"Good, you deserve it after breaking up with Blaine like that." Albus rolled his eyes. "By owl! You're a git, even by my standards."

"By owl?" Rose looked at Scorpius, appalled. That explained why Blaine was a bloody mess in the bathroom. "That's awful! She was sobbing her eyes out, did you know?"

"Can't do long distance," Scorpius said, somewhat coolly.

"Long distance?" Albus threw back his head and laughed. "Scorp, you're back here in case you haven't noticed!"

Scorpius shrugged. "You expect me to lead her on, then? Better late than never."

"You still could have found a better way to break it to her," Rose said sharply, surprised at how irritated she felt. "It wasn't very kind of you. Far be it for me to criticise your love life, I barely know you, but you could do better than an owl."

Scorpius and Albus turned to her, startled. Then Albus cackled. "She's right. As always."

Scorpius recovered quickly, narrowing his eyes at Rose. "Barely know me? Come off it, I've been friends with Al for six years! I see you at The Burrow every summer! We know each other well enough."

Honestly, was he even listening? He was a looker, but he sure was thick. Rose sighed, giving up. "What brings you back, anyway?"

"Not taking part in the Paris fashion weeks this year," Scorpius answered breezily, flashing a wide, charming smile at a passing group of goggly-eyed first years and leaving them in nervous titters. "Father decided enough was enough. Fashion, how frivolous! How un-Malfoy! You're an embarrassment to our name! It's almost NEWTs, anyway. Got to pull up my socks and all that." He lowered his voice. "My grades at Beauxbatons were a disaster. Never saw Mother speechless like that."

"That's because you're a model, mate," Albus said consolingly, patting his friend's shoulder. "And blond. Not much going for you upstairs, is there?"

Scorpius huffed and elbowed him, not appreciating the sarcasm. "Excuse you, I was busy," he cried. "Why, I'll have you know I earned enough money to travel round the world twice before graduation. Why do my grades matter when I have my face?"

Rose shook her head in disbelief. What Blaine or any girl saw in Scorpius was beyond her. He was sweet enough, sure, but he was—always had been—horribly shallow. They arrived at Transfiguration, and Scorpius spent the class winking away at various girls. Blaine Warrington looked absolutely wretched the entire time, her eyes suspiciously wet. Rose felt sorry for her.

It was no wonder she wasn't friends with Scorpius. Despite his close ties to Albus and Victoire, he was careless with people. That was the thing about popular kids. They trampled all over others without a second thought.

Rose hated that.

Much to her chagrin, Mathilda ogled him throughout class. "He's so dreamy, isn't he?"

Yeah, if he doesn't eat your heart and spit it out, Rose wanted to say, but decided to focus on her notes instead. The subject of Scorpius Malfoy was beginning to annoy her.

It was to her surprise that Professor McGonagall asked for her to stay behind after class. Rose waited by the chalkboard, then blinked when McGonagall said, "Malfoy, you too."

Scorpius tilted his head in surprise, pointed at himself as if to say, 'me?'. Albus indicated he would be waiting outside. The blond boy stepped up beside Rose, and McGongall regarded them both, her lips pursed.

"Mr Malfoy," she said tersely, "Something rather shocking has come to my attention last night."

Rose and Scorpius looked back blankly at her.

McGonagall pulled a blue folder from under her diary. Scorpius paled. Rose glanced curiously at him, and McGonagall opened up the folder.

"You received an A for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. P for Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Another Acceptable for Divination. Oh, look, an E for Potions, which I suppose is some consolation. But a Dreadful for Transfiguration?" Steam almost seemed to be blowing from McGonagall's ears as she regarded Scorpius. "This is the worst grade I've ever seen from any student I've taught, much less a Malfoy. I am, quite frankly, stunned."

The silence wasn't pleasant. Rose could feel the dread emanating from Scorpius. Despite all his talk about the importance of grades—or lack thereof—he was obviously not taking this very well.

"I'm not sure what you've been doing at Beauxbatons, but surely it wasn't quite enough if you are failing my class." McGonagall gave him a look of fleeting contempt before turning to Rose. "That's where you come in, Miss Weasley."

"Professor?"

"Tutor him." McGonagall plopped the blue folder emblazoned with Beauxbaton's crest on the table like a diseased liver. "You study often, don't you, Miss Weasley? Then you'll study with Mr Malfoy here, and get his grades up before the NEWTs."

Rose felt alarm rising in her chest. "But Professor—"

"An Acceptable in Transfiguration is the bare minimum," McGonagall interrupted. "If you fail this class, you will not graduate, Mr Malfoy. And you have your lucrative… fashion career, I'm sure, but take some pride in your own abilities and less in what your parents gave you. As for you, Miss Weasley…" her eyes trailed over to Rose's Prefect badge, and Rose sensed a niggling fear in the pit of her stomach, "you are, of course, a candidate for Head Girl. Give me no reason to doubt you." She nodded at them, and the conversation was over.

Her Head Girl badge was going to rely on Malfoy? Rose fought the indignant scream bubbling in her chest. She sneaked a glance at Scorpius. He was staring at the wall behind McGonagall, eyes steely and stance rigid. If she was fuming, she could only imagine what he was feeling.

Funny, Rose thought miserably, how one boy can turn her life upside down.