Weasley Residence, Surrey

June 23rd, 2024

Evening

Rose frowned as she stared at the expanse of her wardrobe, entirely unsure of what she should squeeze into the suitcase that lay open on her bed. Her mother had chosen to surprise her with a vacation for her fantastic grades, and as a result they would be leaving early the next morning for a flight to the south of France, where most of their time would no doubt be spent lounging on beaches.

The rest of the trip would be spent in a fairly similar fashion, Rose was sure. After two weeks in France, including four nights in Paris, Rose and her mother would be journeying to Greece, specifically Santorini for some more sun. Much to Rose's delight, her father and brother would be forced to remain in England. Rose's parents had found out about Hugo's antics, to her great smug satisfaction, and Hugo was required to be in the presence of a parent our trusted adult for the entirety of his summer holidays, according to Hermione.

Rose finally decided to pull out numerous pairs of shorts and tank tops. She was well aware that the weather would be decidedly warm in all of her vacation destinations, and it wasn't as though she would see anyone she knew. Deciding to play up the eyes, by the time she had finished packing her case was full of clothes she would never get the chance to wear in England or clothes that she would never let any of her acquaintances see her in.

"Rosie! Dinner's ready," Hermione called from the kitchen as Rose's stomach grumbled. After zipping her suitcase shut with a little bit of trouble, Rose tied her hair back up into a ponytail and hurried to the kitchen where her father and brother were already seated at the table. "Are you all packed?"

"I just finished," Rose said as she helped her mother carry the food to the table. Upon placing the plate of barbeque chicken on the table, Hugo and Ron practically began to inhale their food, to which both Hermione and Rose rolled their eyes. Rose took her seat and looked away in distaste as she served herself a little portion of salad and some chicken.

"Boys, manners!" Hermione chided as she helped herself to the food. Hugo looked up at his mother with a chicken leg in his mouth and gave a guilty smile. Hermione frowned whilst Ron laughed. "Really, Ronald, don't encourage him. Do you want him to grow up eating like a pig?"

"Hey, Dad eats like a pig and he got you, right?" Hugo said through a mouthful of food, shrugging.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment," Hermione sniffed, cutting a small piece of chicken and eating it, chewing thoroughly before swallowing. "Ron, make sure our son doesn't choke to death on his food when I'm away. And don't forget, he isn't allowed anywhere without you or one of his aunts or uncles."

"I've actually been thinking about that, 'Mione," Ron started. Rose's hand froze on her glass of cranberry juice. She could tell that her father was about to argue Hugo's punishment and she was well aware that the act would not go down well with her mother. "I don't see why he needs someone to be around him all the time. He needs to be able to practice Quidditch, and I'm not going to have time to fly after him."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and Rose took in a deep breath. "How in Godric's name do you expect him to learn his lesson?" Hermione's voice was shrill and Hugo and Ron flinched slightly. "Just because you think your stupid little hobbies are more important than disciplining your son does not mean I will let him get away with anything! You will not let him out of your sight for the entirety of the summer or I will set your sister on you."

Ron blanched and Rose hid a smile. Hugo sat there glowering at his mother, furious that she was not going to relent on the punishment. Rose knew that he had planned a whole series of escapades with their cousins Louis and Lily with the hopes that Ron would let him run free, but any chance of that seemed to be slipping away. Ron remained tight-lipped, nodding stiffly at his wife and returning to his dinner. The rest of the meal was held in an uncomfortable silence and Rose was all too happy to slip back to her room once she had cleared the plates up.

After double checking the contents of her suitcase Rose desired to retire for the night, her excitement for her approaching trip keeping her awake until the early hours of the morning.


Navagio Beach, Zante

July 17th, 2024

Rose tucked her wand hastily into her bag as she quickly followed her mother out from the shadow of the white cliffs. She had thought that after one or two days of sunbaking that she would be weary of the activity, but the sheer joy of doing nothing was something she had come to love.

Having spent her entire life working hard, being about to relax fully was a treat. She had always tried her hardest, even when she had been sent to school as a young child with her brother. Though she had whined and complained about her extended family members not having to go to school, she privately agreed with her mother that attending a school outside of the family home was a wonderful experience. She had spent much of her childhood around muggle children, and though she had not made many friends from her early schooling, she wouldn't trade the experience for anything. Her rigid learning schedule which had been placed upon her from the age of five was the key to her success at Hogwarts. Her brother, on the other hand, had complained enough to their father that he had yanked him out of muggle primary school and sent him to lax education at the Burrow, under the rule of Molly Weasley.

Of course, Rose's holiday had not all been resting. Rose and her mother had partaken in a fair amount of shopping, scuba diving, rock climbing, and had seen the sights of each place they had visited. During the times when they hadn't been rushing about, Rose had often been perusing a magical medical text of some sort, charmed to look like a muggle novel. She wanted to be as prepared as possible if she was accepted at St. Mungo's, and a little bit of light reading couldn't hurt.

"Rosie, come on," her mother called, having already set up her towel by the water. It was one of the few days that cruise ships were not running to the beach so the area would be lovely and quiet, visited only by wizards and witches who chose to apparate there. At the present time, Rose and Hermione were the only two on the entire beach, and they had planted themselves straight in the middle of the white stretch of sand. Hermione was already lying on her back, eyes closed against the blazing sun, her skin already quite brown from their other activities.

When Rose had first heard her mother was going to be wearing a rather revealing swimsuit for the duration of their vacation she had been horrified. No seventeen year old wanted to see their forty-something mother in a set of bathers, but Rose had been pleasantly surprised. Hermione had seemed immune to the powers of age and gravity, so much so that she even managed to look good in a bikini at her age. The sight of Hermione in a black and white two-piece swimsuit had apparently been so pleasing to some, in fact, that she had been approached by several gentlemen during their days at the beach. Hermione had blushed and refused all of the suitors politely, but Rose had caught no sight of her mother's wedding band.

Rose had also been approached by men, both older and of her own age, but she was not interested in a romance. She had opted for a purple bikini, one that had a piece of ribbon wrapped around her neck, elongating the curve of her throat. There wasn't much coverage provided by the swimsuit, either, and she supposed this was why she had been approached by several men. She had followed her mother's lead in dismissing them. They could hardly even speak the same language!

Lying down with a content sigh, Rose lazily summoned her medical text from her bag and went to open it, only to be stopped by her mother.

"No," Hermione mumbled. "Just relax. I never thought I'd be the one telling someone not to read, and yet here we are. Just lie back, close your eyes, and turn off your brain."

Rose took a deep breath and shoved the book back into her bag, instead reclining fully and doing as her mother said. She let her eyes slide shut, and all at once the brilliant warmth of the sun and the soft lapping of waves against sand lulled her brain into a state of silence. All she was focusing on was how comfortable she was, and how soothing the sounds of the beach were...

Crack.

She sat up sharply, looking around wildly for the sound that had woken her from her slumber. The sun had moved in the sky and she deduced she had been dozing for at least an hour. Thank Godric for Sun Smart Potions, guaranteed to stop sunburn. She heard laughter and whipped her head around, only to be faced with a sight that she had been so sure her summer would be spent free of.

"Malfoy? You've got to be kidding me," she groaned, staring at the form of Scorpius who was standing to her right, laughing at her reaction to his arrival. She glared up at him, squinting slightly at the sunlight and he smirked back.

"'Fraid so, Weasley. Don't worry, I'm not too glad to see you here either. I was hoping for a Gryffindor free holiday, but apparently our parents had other plans," he hooked his thumb in the direction to her left and she turned to see her mother a few metres away with Scorpius' father. "I haven't a clue what Dad sees in your mother."

"My mother is happily married, Scorpius," Rose huffed, getting to her feet. She noticed her companion's eyes run over her body, lingering too long on areas she was not quite comfortable with; her breasts, the curve of her neck, her flat stomach. "My face is up here."

"I know that," he sneered. "Not bad though, Weasley. You wouldn't be half bad if you weren't such an insufferable know-it-all the majority of the time. Then again, I doubt you know anything but that attitude."

"You might be tolerable if you weren't such a supercilious, pompous asshole. Just because you're a Malfoy doesn't mean the world will bow and kiss your feet, so you can stop hoping," she retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "What are you even doing here?"

"I told you before," he said slowly as though she were an idiot. "Our parents wanted to meet up. Though I don't know why my father wants to enjoy your mother's company. From what he told me she's exactly like you are."

"Apparently your father likes that in a woman," Rose sniffed delicately. "Besides, it isn't as though my mum would be interested in someone like your father. He may be charming, but she's happily married. Just because your father can't find anyone doesn't mean he has to break apart other people's families."

"A dig at my family. Nice, Weasley, real original," Scorpius snorted. "Our parents are going to be a while seeing as they're getting on like a niffler on fire, so how about we sit here in silence and try and enjoy our holiday, hopefully forgetting that this unfortunate meeting ever occurred?"

"Fine by me," Rose glared at her former classmate, settling herself back onto the towel she had been lying on and trying to close off her mind once more until she succumbed to sleep once more.


Weasley Residence, Surrey

August 2nd, 2024

Morning

"Mum, are you sleeping with Draco Malfoy?"

The question was out before Rose had time to stop herself. The idea that her mother might be having an affair had been niggling at the back of her mind ever since Scorpius had dropped hints to her about the possibility when they had been in Greece. She certainly hoped her mother was being faithful to her father, but reflecting upon her mother's actions around the handsome Draco Malfoy made her think otherwise.

"What?" Hermione spluttered, placing her teacup back onto its saucer. "What on earth would give you that idea?"

"The way you act around him," Rose frowned, discarding her toast in favour for a glass of orange juice. "You're always so...girly around him, giggling and blushing. It's kind of creepy."

"Rose, I'm not having an affair. Draco and I are friends, that's all," Hermione regained her composure quickly, returning to her tea and sipping daintily. "We had a brief fling before your father and I got married, just after the war had ended and just before Harry and Ginny married. Your father wanted to see other people, and I was much too busy starting a career to have time for a relationship, and Draco and I ended up working in the same office. It was nothing more than a purely, um, physical relationship, and it ended quickly."

"You slept with Draco Malfoy?" Rose asked incredulously and Hermione nodded once. "I did not need to hear that."

"You're the one who asked, darling," Hermione observed. "It was only a fling, as I said, and I married your father three months after Draco and I broke it off, and he was married a month after your father and I. We ended up progressing through the workplace together, and it was nice for me to have a friend who I can actually have meaningful conversations with, and who I'm not somehow related to."

Rose nodded in agreement at the last part of her mother's speech. All her life, her closest friends had been her cousins, but sometimes constantly being around her family grated on her nerves. She was broken out of her thought pattern when she noticed a speck in the distance, growing closer with each second and a smile grew on her face. She flicked her wand at the window and it flew open just in time for two owls to descend onto the breakfast table, depositing their letters before turning and swooping out.

"Hugo's Hogwarts letter is finally here," Hermione remarked, picking up the top envelope. "I'll give it to him when he wakes up, if that happens sometime this century. I suppose I should let him find out his O.W.L results before I do."

"And consequently crucify him," Rose added, reaching for the other letter. Her jaw dropped when she recognized the seal. It was from St. Mungo's. "Holy shit."

"Rose!" Hermione chided her daughter. "What is so exciting that you have to swear?"

"My letter from St. Mungo's. Should I open it? What if I didn't get in? What if I did get in? Oh God, I don't know what to do. It feels heavy. What does that mean? Does that mean I got in? Or maybe they write really long apologies. What do I do? Oh my God, what do I do?"

"Rose, just open it," Hermione said, smiling at her daughter's reaction. "You'll get in, I'm certain."

With trembling hands, Rose slit open the envelope and poured out the contents, eyes scanning over the contents:

Dear Miss Rose Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that your application for our annual internship has been accepted! After viewing your academic results and background, we have found that you are greatly suited to work at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries as your skills would be a great asset to our team. Should you choose to accept this position, you will find enclosed a series of insurance clauses which you are required to sign and return as soon as possible to secure your place.

Congratulations once more, and we hope to see you on September 1st for your first day of training.

Sincerely,

Healer Zandra Reichs

"I got in," Rose said quietly. "I got in!"

"Congratulations, Rosie!" Hermione grinned, patting her daughter's hand and reaching over for the letter which Rose gave up reluctantly. She was still in a state of utter disbelief that she, Rose Weasley, was going to be doing an internship and St. Mungo's in less than a month.

"What's all the noise?" came the grumbled voice of Hugo from the doorway. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and glared blearily at his mother and sister, annoyed at being woken so early.

"Your sister got her internship," Hermione announced proudly and Hugo rolled his eyes, grabbing Rose's discarded piece of toast and taking a huge bite of it. "Aren't you going to say congratulations?"

"Congrats, sister, I suppose. Though it isn't like it's a surprise. We all knew you'd get it anyway," Hugo plopped into the chair beside Rose, grabbing her orange juice as well. "At least you'll have fun with one of the other interns."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rose asked, snatching her drink back. "Who are the others?"

"One of 'em is a chick from France. Beauxbatons, I think," Hugo informed her, rubbing at the back of his scalp and providing Rose with an all too disgusting view of his armpit. "And according to Lily who heads his fan club or something, Scorpius Malfoy applied as well."

"What?" Rose dropped her glass with a clatter, oblivious to the orange juice that was slowly soaking through her robe. "That dunderhead?"

"Rose, he's hardly a dunderhead," Hermione frowned, waving her wand to clear up the mess. "He got second in your year, and according to Draco he's wanted to be a Healer for as long as you have."

"But it's Malfoy! How on earth am I meant to put up with working with him every single day? We hate each other," Rose whined, crossing her arms grumpily. "Besides, he doesn't even need a job. He could stay at home and live off his Daddy's salary for the rest of his life and never lift a finger."

"That's a horrid thing to say," Hermione scolded her daughter. "It's a wonderful opportunity for the both of you, and I suppose you'll simply have to learn to get along with each other. It can't do any harm."

"I can't believe you're taking his side," Rose grumbled.

"I'm not taking anybody's side, Rose, but you should at least try and be civil," Hermione instructed. "It worked wonders for Draco and I."


The Warlock Lounge

Diagon Alley

September 5th, 2024

"Scorpius sodding Malfoy will be the death of me," Rose declared, taking a small sip of her apple martini.

She, along with Dominique, Albus, Dante Zabini and Ingrid Nott were all seated in a booth at Diagon Alley's new 'trendy' bar, The Warlock Lounge, and Rose felt more out of place than she had in a long time. The couples had sidled into the already existing seats of the booth, taking up both sides, and Rose had had to pull up a chair if she wished to participate in conversation. While her companions seemed more into their partners, Rose was far more interested in venting about the tiresome week she'd endured.

"What did he do this time?" Dominique asked and Rose chose to ignore her monotonous tone; everyone there was sick of Rose's complaints, but no one had the guts to tell her.

"He's just always there!" Rose whined, this time taking a large gulp from her drink. "Can't he just bugger off and get a new job?"

"Rose," Dante interrupted her rant and she turned to glare at him. She wasn't fond of the Slytherin's crashing her weekly meeting with her two best friends, and what gave him the right to interrupt her? "Scorpius has wanted to be a Healer since he was three. I doubt he'd give up his dream of saving lives just because he disliked his co-workers, not that he does."

"What do you mean he doesn't dislike his co-workers?" Rose asked sharply. Sure, the blonde Slytherin tolerated Isabelle, the French intern, but from their past, Rose could plainly see that Scorpius loathed her. "He absolutely abhors me."

"Merlin, I thought you were meant to be smart," Rose saw Dante shake his head and she narrowed her eyes. "Wasn't that what all those awards were for at our graduation? Or was that just for fun and games?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Zabini?" Rose snapped.

"Play nice, Rosie," Albus kicked her under the table and Rose's glare turned to her cousin for a moment.

"Apparently you aren't all that smart," Dante sniffed. "Didn't your parents ever tell you when you were little that if a boy was mean to you, he probably liked you?"

"Last I checked, that was only applicable to six year olds, not eighteen year olds," Rose sneered. "Besides, what's your point? Plenty of people are wankers to me. Does that mean they all 'like' me?"

"Probably not," Dante admitted, "but Scorpius is a definite exception. Well, as of late he is. He was just being a twat for the first six and a half years."

"Stop fucking with me, Zabini," Rose growled. "He cares for nothing but himself, and why would he care about me?"

"I never said he cared about you," Dante drawled. "You're such a romantic. I said he likes you. He wants to shag you."

"Christ, are you all this bloody vulgar?" Rose grumbled. "So, the only reason Scorpius bloody Malfoy has been an ass to me for the last seven years of my life is because he wants to get into my pants?" Dante nodded and Rose snorted. "Charming. Fucking charming."

"I don't know where you got this idea that life was all kittens and unicorns," Ingrid leered, huddling into Albus' side. "If you find someone who wants you, take them, regardless of whether or not they love you."

"You're really a glass half full sort of girl, aren't you?" Rose snapped sarcastically and Ingrid gave her a vacant smile. "I don't care if he loves me or not, but something more than the desire to have sex with me wouldn't go astray."

"Scor doesn't get more than that," Dante said. "For as long as he's been shagging girls, that's all he's wanted. He isn't about to do what his father did and get tied down at nineteen."

"Obviously," Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Look how well that all worked out for his dad. Married at nineteen, when that Greengrass bitch was only seventeen, she popped Scor out a few years later and left as soon as he went to Hogwarts. No one in their right mind would follow in their father's footsteps if that's where it would land them."

"As charming as it is to discuss the ever so exciting personal life of the Malfoys, can we please get back to the matter at hand?" Rose asked impatiently.

"And what would that be?" Dante questioned.

"Your apparent ignorance of social interactions by members of the opposite sex?" Ingrid supplied.

"Fat load of good talking to Slytherins will do me," Rose grumbled and both Ingrid and Dante grinned. "Fuck it. I'll leave you to your...couple business– "

"It's called sex, darling," Ingrid interrupted.

"Right. Sex. I'll leave you to it," Rose glared at the group before standing and leaving.

Since when were Slytherins ever help to anyone?


St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

September 18th, 2024

The room was silent, absent of the usual rhythmic heartbeat of the patient who lay in the bed. The Healers moved about slowly, heads bowed, murmuring quiet apologies to one another when they accidentally bumped into each other. It was a sad occasion, and yet in a hospital, it was one that occurred all too frequently. And yet Rose could not seem to fathom that the man who lay in the bed, only twenty six, would not be waking up.

She clambered awkwardly onto his bed, beating at his chest wildly in a crude attempt at a muggle method of resuscitation, but despite her best efforts there was no change. Arms wrapped their way around her body, wrenching her from her position and tossing her like a sack of potatoes into the visitor's chair.

"Weasley, snap the fuck out of it," Scorpius growled at her but she only glared resolutely back at him. "He's dead. Get over it or get the fuck out."

"No," she said stubbornly, pushing her past him and back over to the patient. "I can save him. Get out, Malfoy."

"Weasley, you're only making it worse for yourself," Scorpius snapped, wrapping his fingers around her arm and wrenching her back until she stumbled into his chest. "He is dead. Even the best Healer in the world could do nothing to save him now. Get over it. We're Healers now. People die. It comes with the job."

"We're meant to save them!" Rose cried out, pulling her arm from his grip. She was horrified to realize that a steady flow of tears trickled down her cheeks and she wiped at them with the back of her hand. "We're meant to save them," her voice was barely a whisper.

"You can't save everybody," Scorpius said quietly, stepping past her and pulling the white sheet up to cover the patient's entire body. "It was a test, Weasley. They assigned us patients who were going to die. They wanted to see how we'd react when they did eventually kick the bucket," he ignored her cringing at his frankness. "Mine died about two hours ago. It was a bitch of a thing for them to do, but they need to so they can know who is going to have a meltdown each time a patient dies on them. If I hadn't stopped you before one of the supervisors had walked in then you'd be out on your sorry ass."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Rose sniffed indignantly, casting sad eyes upon the figure beneath the white sheet. "You can piss off now."

"I don't think so," Scorpius clucked his tongue. "You get out first. If I leave you might start straddling the corpse again and I don't think necrophilia is covered by our insurance clause."

"You're sick," Rose spat, but exited the room anyway, leaving Scorpius alone with the fresh corpse. He sat on the edge of the bed, grinning.

"Looks like we're reeling her in," he said aloud to no one in particular, clapping the dead man's leg with his hand. "And I'm talking to a dead guy," he added, scrunching up his nose and sighing.

It had been a trying few weeks for Scorpius, working with Rose. She had been as feisty as ever, always challenging him on any decision he made and constantly smarming up to the bosses. He, on the other hand, had been perfectly happy just to go along with life at the hospital without any arse-kissing. The other intern, Isabelle, had endured a slight breakdown when her patient, a seventy year old witch suffering from a violent case of Kneazle Measles had passed away and had since been relieved of her position. Though there were always three positions available, competition between the interns was always fierce.

Scorpius smoothed his robes as he stood and exited the room of the recently deceased patient quickly, his grey eyes flicking to a large clock which hung in the hallway. It was half past five and he was free to leave for the night, which was exactly what he did. After flooing back to an empty Malfoy Manor he stripped off his lime green robes and showered quickly, donning dark grey jeans and a black button down shirt when he was finished. His father was in France at a wizarding law symposium and Scorpius had organized to have a Dante and Ingrid over for a few drinks and some dinner.

By quarter to seven, Scorpius was sitting by the fire in the parlour of the east wing, his hand wrapped firmly around a bottle of butterbeer as he waited for his friends. On cue, the fire glowed green and Scorpius' eyebrows lifted as two figures emerged from his fireplace.

"Scor," Dante greeted his friend with a slap on the back. "Nice to see you, mate."

"Likewise," Scorpius grinned, rising to kiss Ingrid's cheek. "Drinks?" he waved his hand towards the liquor cabinet behind him and both of his guests reached for bottles of butterbeer, though he was certain that by the time the night was over they would have made a rather large start on the firewhiskey. "How've you two been?"

"Brilliant," Ingrid smirked, reclining in her chair. The room was filled with an assortment of comfortable chairs in various shades of green, giving an ultimately pleasing effect when teamed with the hardwood floors and white walls. "I've been offered a job at Twilfitt and Tatting's."

"Retail, Ingrid?" Dante sniffed. "Aren't you a little above working as a shop assistant?"

"Not as an assistant, dickhead," Ingrid rolled her eyes. "As a designer. I went around Diagon handing out examples of my designs and got a job there. They said they were looking for something 'fresh' and that my designs would fit right in."

"Congratulations," Scorpius raised his bottle in toast. "What about you, Dante? Found any work or are you scrounging from your parents?"

"Dad's trying to talk me into a position at the Ministry, but I don't really want to work with my father. I've been thinking about working as a curse breaker," the Italian wizard admitted.

"Yeah, but you'd have to leave your friend behind," Ingrid grinned. "Somehow I don't think you'd manage."

"Weasley?" Scorpius asked with a raised brow and Ingrid nodded. "Interesting. I was under the impression that you two were going to fuck and get over it."

"Dominique," Dante stressed, running his hand through his hair. "And she's more than just a 'fuck', Scor."

"Don't say you're falling for a Gryffindor," Scorpius cautioned but Dante ignored him.

"You fell for a Gryffindor a long time ago."

Scorpius paled slightly but his face remained as guarded and blank as ever. "I haven't a clue what you're talking about," he said confidently, sipping at his drink and eyeing his friends who are both smirking in a way which was pure Slytherin. "Care to enlighten me on who I've apparently 'fallen' for?"

"Don't play dumb, Scorpius," Ingrid drawled. "You should know by now that it doesn't look good on you."

"It looks just as good on you as it does on Rose Weasley," Dante sniggered and Ingrid laughed along with him. Scorpius' eyes narrowed at his guests, his icy grey eyes full of growing anger. "Don't deny it, Scor. You've been smitten since you were fifteen. You always used your family's front as a tool to pretend that you hate her, but really, you start drooling whenever she walks into a room."

"I think you're mistaking my...feelings for your own, Dante," Scorpius sneered and his companions rolled their eyes. "Salazar knows you can hardly pick your jaw up from the floor when that Weasley girl walks by. You should really get that checked out." He could not help the bite in his voice. His anger towards his friends was clear. After spending so long carefully concealing his odd feelings towards the redheaded Gryffindor who had been the bane of his schooling at Hogwarts, his friends' discovery irked him.

Dante's gaze turned cold as he stared at Scorpius. "Keep this act going and you'll end up cold and lonely while Rose is off shagging Finnegan," he snarled and Scorpius' face darkened. "We're your best friends, Scor, and you've been wanting Rose since you caught a peek of her in the Prefect's Bathroom. You came back to the Common Room as though you'd just seen Merlin in the flesh."

"And then the next day," Ingrid took over, "when she walked into the Great Hall for breakfast, you nearly passed out in your bacon. You got a hold of yourself after that, but the damage was done. Dante and I already knew exactly what was going on."

"You are absolutely insane," Scorpius defended himself, crossing his arms tightly against his chest as he glared at his friends who stared back at him smugly. "If you've only come this evening to berate me, then you know where the fireplace is. Feel free to leave."

"I'll leave when you admit that you are completely and utterly infatuated with one Rose Weasley," Ingrid said simply and swilled back the last of her drink. "Well?"

If looks could kill, Ingrid and Dante would have been dead in Scorpius' parlour. His upper lip had curled into a look of contempt and his eyes were narrowed and icy, more so than usual. "Fine," he eventually spat. "I am infatuated with Rose sodding Weasley and I intend to sleep with her."