"You are infuriating," her eyes flared, fingers digging into her hips in an attempt to maintain control, "I swear, it's like you think all women are objects, and she thought you really liked her."

"We both knew it was a fling," he almost laughed, "we hooked up a few times, nothing special. Why is she making such a big deal of it?" The brunette in question had meant nothing to him. He had made that perfectly clear to her. She had been nice and a good kisser, but beyond that he felt no connection, no desire to be with her. He had even kept himself from shagging her because he knew Rose would never let it go.

Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms, "I just spent an hour making her feel better, and explaining to her just how much of a dick you are." She didn't care that he did this to almost every girl, this time he had taken it too far. In all their seven years at Hogwarts he had never gone near Rose's closest friends or cousins. She had always assumed it was because he didn't want to risk the wrath of the Weasley and Potter boys, but now she was beginning to wonder if it was her wrath he had been afraid of.

"Oh wow, thanks. It's not my fault she doesn't understand what a hook up is!" his incredulity was mounting slowly to anger, "She's not even my type." That statement wasn't completely true. As far as Scorpius was concerned he didn't have a type.

"Then why did you hook up with her in the first place? Women are not just objects for you to use and discard. When you did it to all those other girls I thought they were just a little slutty, but this was one of my best friends." Her remaining air came out in a huff, her red hair falling in front of her eyes. She pushed it back aggressively, gritting her teeth.

"All what other girls? I've never had any other girls." In his defense he had never actually been the one to make the first move, and he had never been in a serious relationship. Girls tended to be the ones to start flirting, and as long as they weren't crazy he never saw a reason to shut them down. Usually it would last a week or so, or they would hook up over a few months. Eventually though, they all got frustrated, asked him to be exclusive or got overly clingy and things ended. But they were never his, not really.

"Do I need to list them? Samantha Clarke, Hayden Mills, Jeannette–" She stepped closer with each name, her shoes clicking.

"I never cared about any of them." He cut her off sharply, looking down at her with his voice dangerously low.

"So women are just objects to you. You know, people always asked me why I was friends with you, kept warning me you were a dick, sleeping around, picking on the 1st graders. I should have known they were right, I mean to think I even gave you a chance–"

"I'm a dick? Great you've spent most of your time hanging out with a dick who sleeps around, I'm surprised you haven't slept with me yet. I mean it's not like you don't sleep–"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Malfoy. You know what, if you really think of me that way then fine, I guess you and I aren't friends. Have a nice life." She turned to leave, her hair snapping around, and her skirt swishing. Despite her anger she felt tears forming in her eyes, and a painful lump in her throat was making it difficult to breathe. She rounded the corner, her legs were shaking but she didn't stop. Several more corridors and she turned against the wall, pounding her fist into it.

A few tears slid unbidden down her cheek. She swung at the wall again, her knuckles scraping against the stone. Another swing and there was a streak of blood against the grey; her hand throbbed. The pain stopped any more tears from falling and she hurriedly wiped away the ones that had. She turned her back to the wall and slid down slowly, staring blankly at a tapestry of fruit on the opposite wall.

Scorpius stood at the end of the hallway, his mouth half open, his hands hanging uselessly by his side. He prided himself in knowing Rose well, in caring about her. But this was a side of her he had never seen. Even when she failed a test, or the night she had broken up with Henry Finnegan, she had never looked so fragile. He had never dared to think that she cared about him, about their friendship, enough to break down like that.

He wanted to say something, although he wasn't sure what. A small sound escape his lips, the start of her name perhaps. But as soon as the half-word was out of his mouth he regretted it. Rose turned to look at him, her blank look changing to one of steel when she saw him. She jumped up from where she was seated, hands forming fists again.

He walked towards her, arms half outstretched. In some deep part of his mind he thought that maybe she would let him hug her. That she would collapse into his arms and he would be able to apologize and make her pain go away. He was standing right in front of her, arms open, when he realized that her cold expression hadn't changed.

She turned on her heel again, and this time her hair whipped his face as she went. He couldn't let her go though, not this time. He couldn't bear to have her sitting curled up on the floor of some other corridor her hand a bloody mess. He wouldn't, couldn't let himself, be responsible for that,

She had gone two steps when his hand wrapped tightly around her arm. She spun around, angrily, bringing them stomach to stomach. In a moment his other hand was on her cheek, an extinct, as though he wanted to warn any future tears away. She leaned into the hand, it's warmth comforting against her cold skin. Somehow the hand guided her face towards his. It took less than a second, so little time that she didn't even react, but in his mind each moment felt like hours. He bent down slightly, and time quickened. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, urgent, hot and unyielding.

For a moment she kissed him back, her hands burying in his hair, pulling him closer. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Her nails pressed against his neck as she attempted to regain some of the control he had stolen from her. Every curve of her body was moulded to his, their chests pressed together, the smooth line of her hips fitting perfectly with his. In that moment she was wrapped in him, her mind devoid of any thoughts other than the feeling of his mouth on hers, their bodies tightly locked.

But then she heard Jessie's voice in her mind. Saw the tears sliding down her friend's face. She pushed back, breaking away from him, stumbling out of his embrace. Her hand moved up, the sound of the slap echoing around the deserted hallway. Not waiting for a reaction, she turned and marched away.

AN - I've decided this is gonna be a multific! Please let me know what you think about it! I appreciate all comments!

I'll admit that some of this story is based loosely on some parts of my life, so I'm secretly hoping you'll love it :P Well not so secretly but hey it's Christmas and Love Actually has taught me (time and time again) that Christmas is a time to be honest.

Hope you like it, and Happy Holidays!