Disclaimer: Sadly, not mine.

Chapter 2: Accident Prone

Dating Prescott Branstone, it seemed to Rose, was a full-time job. First off, he expected study sessions in the library at least every other day ("We'll have to start going more often once it gets to the crunch of N.E.W.T.s season!"), walking together in-between classes, and of course the scheduled Hogwarts trips to Hogsmeade.

It was because of this that Rose found herself among the rows of plants in Dogweed and Deathcap one crisp November day when she would have much rather been nestled up in her favorite plush corner chair in the Gryffindor Common Room, reading the latest Muggle novel her mother had sent. Prescott, his arms laden with Herbology tools and a cooing Screechsnap plant tucked under one elbow, carefully made his way over to where Rose stood admiring a young Mimbulus Mimbletonia in its pot. His silky dark hair flopped into his eye as he spoke, "I'm all through in this shop. Shall we go, then? Three Broomsticks sound nice to you?"

"Yes please," Rose responded with a shy smile. It had been nearly a month, and yet she still could not believe that Prescott Branstone was still interested in her. He was the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, handsome and charming as he was intelligent. Almost overnight, they'd morphed into the school's newest "it" couple. It was much more limelight than Rose was used to receiving, but Prescott seemed to thrive in it. He'd take every opportunity to hold her hand, and had no qualms about kissing her rather soundly in public. Just the other day, Rose had been walking to the owlry with Scorpius, one of the rare moments they'd had together in the last few weeks, when Prescott appeared out of nowhere, picked her right off the ground and stuck his tongue down her throat. When she'd finally been released, rather breathless and dizzy but feeling quite adored, Scorpius had gone on ahead of her.

The walk to the Three Broomsticks was quick, but chilly. Dead and cracked autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet, and a fine dusting of frost blanketed the cobbled streets, reminding them that the Christmas season was not so far off. Rose tugged her Gryffindor scarf up to cover her mouth while Prescott, ever so dashing and chivalrous, pulled her close in to him to keep her warm. When they arrived, he directed Rose to a table while he went up to pay for two butterbeers. Rose took her time removing her gloves and thick cloak, reveling in the warm fire that seemed to radiate warmth throughout the pub.

"Well, look who it is! Fancy seeing you here," Rose turned to meet the brown eyes of Cecily Fletwock, her plump pink lips turned up in a smile, tugging a brooding Scorpius Malfoy by the hand. "Mind if we join you?" She asked, all lovely innocence.

Rose all of a sudden felt rather like a troll. She patted down her mass of curls that had just been released from the hat she'd removed.

"Hey, Cecily, Malfoy." Prescott had rejoined their group with two steaming butterbeers. "Grab a seat." Rose watched as Cecily and Scorpius sat down at their table, the latter not quite meeting her eyes as his girlfriend babbled on.

"Rather cold for November, don't you think?" the blonde was saying, taking off her coat to reveal a rather low-cut shirt made of a light flowy material. Rose resisted the urge to suggest that her improper choice in attire was perhaps why she was so chilly. "Scorpy and I were just taking a look around, but I thought we might stop in somewhere for a drink, though Madam Puddifoot's is closed this weekend. I simply can't imagine why they'd do that when there's a Hogsmeade visit going on…"

As Prescott listened attentively, Rose drowned the younger girl's chit chat out to focus on her friend. Scorpius had been silent since they'd arrived, and was playing with the corner of his napkin rather sullenly. It occurred to Rose that she hadn't properly seen him in the last few weeks since she had begun dating Prescott. The thought saddened her. Scorpius had, over the last year or so, without a doubt become one of her very best friends, and it made her ill at ease to think that she might lose him over what she had now privately named "The Shower Incident". Her cheeks reddened at the memory. Perhaps she ought to make more of an effort to get things back to how they used to be between the two of them.

When they'd finished their butterbeers, plus a round of Firewhiskey on Scorpius, whom Madam Rosmerta had a special soft spot for, Prescott placed his hand on Rose's upper thigh under the table. She stilled, inhaling quickly with shock. In the last month, they'd gone from sweet tender kisses to rather intense groping sessions, but Rose hadn't allowed him to go on any further than that. However, he'd seemed little by little less patient over the last few days. Rose had thought a lot about what the next step in their relationship would be.

She knew both Jillian and Eleanor had been with guys before, Jill with Kevin Clearwater just last spring, and Ellie with some American boy she'd met while traveling abroad last holiday. But stories from her roommates did nothing to prepare her for the physical realities of sex, for the act of sex itself. Rose knew enough to assume it might be a little painful and awkward. And messy. To be honest, she wasn't sure if she thought it sounded all that enjoyable.

"You reckon y'wanna get out of here?" Prescott breathed into her ear, smelling a bit like firewhiskey. Rose met Scorpius' gaze from across the table. Laughter gone from his face, his eyes were dead and cold, boring back into her own. Rose couldn't believe it. He was supposed to be her friend, and he had not been happy for her ever since she had begun dating Prescott. Here was a boy who liked her, who really liked her, and Scorpius could not accept it. For some reason, his obvious distaste for Prescott only made her determined to irk him further.

"Yes, please." She replied, gazing up through her eyelashes at Prescott, and rubbing one had against his arm, slowly, deliberately. She could feel Scorpius' eyes tracing its pattern on Prescott's arm, and she basked in the deliciousness at his visible discomfort.

Both Scorpius and Rose were shocked out of their silent competition with the abrasive, high-pitched sound of Cecily's giggle. "Uh oh, Scorpy," she tinkled, though Rose knew he detested that nickname, "We'd better leave these two lovebirds alone." Cecily laughed again, causing Scorpius to wince, although if she noticed, she made no response. Her gloved hand was already pulling him towards the door of the pub.

"It was lovely to see you, Cecily," Rose said with syrupy sweetness, wondering inwardly when she'd become so catty, "and I will catch you at the Prefects meeting later, Scorpy."

Steely grey eyes met blue, and she knew in an instant that she would pay for this later.

When they finally made their way back to the castle, Rose expected that she and Prescott would part ways to their respective dormitories, or at the very most, he would walk her to Gryffindor Tower before saying farewell for the night. She was surprised, however, when he pulled her into one of Hogwarts' many broom closets on the third floor and began to kiss her fervently. Rose was all for snogging sessions, and was even known to instigate one or two herself, but there was a mop digging into her side that she just could not ignore.

"Prescott, hey, slow down there a second," Rose laughed, coming up for air. He reluctantly let go of her face, but his left hand continued stroking her back in circles made no sign of ceasing anytime soon. Though it was quite nice, Rose mused. He had large hands. Rather soft, she had noticed. Hands used for turning pages in the library, rather than for, say, quidditch... She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, rather than dreaming of calloused broomstick-calloused boy hands. "I'm not complaining about the kissing by any means, but could we perhaps do it elsewhere? This isn't exactly the coziest location..."

"God, Rose, I thought you were going to drive me mad in the pub earlier," Prescott murmured into her hair, either ignoring her or purposefully changing the subject. His hand on her back mimicked the circles that she had made on his arm earlier to annoy Scorpius, dipping lower and lower until it came to rest on her arse. Rose felt a sudden jolt of electrifying dread. What had she done? The firewhiskey that had spurred on her actions earlier had all but worn off, and she worried that she'd somehow given Prescott the wrong idea about where their date today would be heading. It wasn't that she didn't like the guy, or anything like that, but they had only been dating for a month, and she wasn't anywhere near ready to take this next step. Not only that, but Rose wasn't so sure she wanted her first time to be in a broom closet.

Or with Prescott at all.

Where had that voice come from? Prescott was a perfectly nice boy. Rose went through the checklist in her head again, the one she pulled out whenever somebody asked her how their relationship was going. He was handsome (check), intelligent (check), hardworking and respectful (check, check, although she had to admit the second point could certainly be doubted, now that he was fondling her arse in a broom closet). Rose wondered, especially in this moment, if they quite had the same idea of what they wanted out of this relationship.

Before she could say anything further, however, the door to the cupboard was flung open with a bang.

"Aha!" Filch, the ancient Hogwarts caretaker, grabbed the two of them by the scruff of their jumpers before either Rose or Prescott knew what was going on.

"Fornication!" he declared, though Rose thought it was quite an unfair assessment, seeing as how they were both still fully dressed. He marched the two of them along the corridor, still holding them apart at an arm's length, "Fornication on school property! I'll have you both in detentions until you graduate for this! Fifty points from Gryffindor! Fifty points from Ravenclaw! And you'd better move along before I make it more…"

"Mr. Filch!" came a sharp voice from behind them. Rose turned to see Headmistress McGonagall striding down the hallway, faster than a woman her age should have been able to do. "Unhand those students at once! You are well aware that you are not allowed to give detentions or take away House Points. ''

Filch dropped the two seventh years reluctantly, muttering something under his breath about the good old days and hanging students by their thumbs in the dungeons. With a sharp, slightly exaggerated bow to the Headmistress, he creeped off, most likely to try and torment some other unsuspecting students, Rose thought.

"Miss Weasley, Mr. Branstone, I trust that I will not find the two of you in this predicament again?" McGonagall said, her one eyebrow cocked so high it nearly disappeared into her tight grey bun. Rose idly wondered if the Headmistress slept with her hair wound so tightly, and if it ever gave her a headache.

"Of course not, Professor. We're deeply sorry," Prescott stated for the both of them, his magnificent hair flopped over his face as his head hung low, "It won't happen again."

"Good," McGonagall said, looking uncomfortable, straightening her already rigid spine, "I should hate to have to owl your parents to inform them of your… trysts." She stared pointedly at Rose as she said this, and she knew her professor was specifically talking about her father. She gulped. He would have a heart attack if he ever even suspected his dearest Rosie had done so much as hold hands with a boy.

"Please make your way back to your house common rooms, and we shall forget this has ever happened, shall we?" the old Headmistress said, looking almost in pain to be talking about her students' sex life. Both Rose and Prescott nodded, and she set off in the opposite direction, brisk as ever.

Rose looked at Prescott, only just remembering the compromising situation they had been in before Filch had caught them. She blushed deeply, but before she could speak, he beat her to it..

"Save that for later then, yeah?" He winked suggestively, in a way that Rose knew should make her swoon. Instead, she felt a little nauseated. She forced a smile.

"Good night, Prescott. Thank you for the lovely day in Hogsmeade."

"Good night, Rose. The pleasure was all mine." He kissed the top of her head, gently, and Rose smiled to herself. This was the way things were supposed to be. This was her sweet, caring boyfriend, not the ravenous teenage boy who'd been with her in the broom closet. If only he would remain this way all the time.

Rose didn't know if it was Filch bitterly seeking his revenge, or a passerby who had witnessed the whole exchange, but by Monday morning, every Hogwarts student had heard that Prescott Branstone and Head Girl Rose Weasley had been caught in a compromising situation in a broom closet. The Hogwarts rumor mill, as it was wont to do, had gone wild with the story, twisting it into several different versions so that the truth was virtually unrecognizable from the gossip being spread from student to student.

By midday Monday, Rose had heard that she was expelled for indecency, that she was several months pregnant with Prescott's love child (she self-consciously smoothed her school jumper over her flat stomach after hearing that one), and, perhaps most disturbing of all, that Filch had been invited in to join the two of them in their actions.

With her head down and Jillian and Albus on either side for support, she quickly walked to her afternoon Transfiguration class, attempting not to make any eye contact with passing students, her cheeks flaming at the embarrassment of the entire situation.

"Rose! Oi, Rose!"

Dear god, not another question on whether or not McGonagall had caught them in the actual act of…

"Sorry! Not taking any more questions for today!" she waved the owner of the voice off, not even bothering to look back and see who it belonged to.

"But, Ro-"

"Yes! Yes, okay?! I am being expelled from this hell of a school for doing it in a broom closet, and I am going to live as a muggle for the rest of my days, so you can just go and tell ALL your little friends that-" She turned around to meet the vaguely amused smirk of Scorpius Malfoy. "Oh... it's you." She could feel her cheeks burning.

"Yes," he said, and she could tell he was trying his best not to laugh at her. "It's me. I wanted to know if you got the memo about the change in the patrol timetables for this week. We have been moved to patrol for tonight because Holly Carr is sick with the dragon pox."

"Oh, that's fine…" Rose flushed, waving her hands at her sides, wishing suddenly she had something else to do with them. "That works for me."

"Yeah?" Scorpius peered back at her, the hint of laughter still in his eyes, though he had managed to hold it in, Rose noticed gratefully. "You're not going to be too busy starting your life over as a muggle due to expulsion?"

"Oh sod off, you prick," Rose finally laughed, feeling better than she had all day. "I'll see you later at patrols."

At approximately half nine, Rose stepped out of the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room to find Scorpius waiting for her, as he'd always done for their patrols together. They walked in silence for a ways, he twirling his wand in his hands as he walked, and she nervously tugging at a wayward red curl. There were no students out tonight, which was a fairly uncommon occurrence, so the two meandered through their usual patrol route, and even Rose agreed to take a break and sit for a while once they'd reached the Astronomy tower. It was a large castle and they had walked for quite some time, after all.

Rose was often amazed at how comfortable the silence was when she was with Scorpius. He wasn't a particularly talkative bloke – rather, he chose his words carefully for when he could make them count. She was the exact opposite. Her mother was forever telling her to slow down and think before she spoke, for she was always talking a mile a minute, and often before considering what she was saying. Rose normally hated silence. It always made her feel anxious, like she had to speak twice as much to make up for what her companion wasn't saying.

Tonight, however, she was perfectly content to just be. In the back of her mind, there was a little niggling feeling, reminding her that they had never fully resolved The Shower Incident, but she was happy to let that go for now. Since she'd started dating Prescott nearly a month ago, she hadn't been able to spend much time with Scorpius, and she only now realized how much she'd missed his company.

"Nice night," he commented, startling Rose from her thoughts. She murmured in agreement. The silvery moon hung full and low in the sky, illuminating the grounds all the way to where the black lake lapped upon the shore. It was moments like these where Rose realized that she only had a few months left in this place. She shook that thought from her mind, resolving to put it off for a later date.

Instead, she turned to look at him, realizing that she hadn't done so fully since that night in the showers when she'd… done a bit too much looking. She blushed at the memory. Before then, she had always known that her friend was handsome. Certainly, the female population of Hogwarts made that fact hard to miss or forget, as he was a constant topic of conversation amongst the gossips of the school. Somehow, though, Rose realized she had never properly looked at him. His aristocratic profile was sharp in the darkness, and his pale skin and hair lit up almost silver where the moon shone down upon him. He had a strong chin, and a slightly upturned nose that, while wasn't quite the height of masculinity, gave him an almost impish, boyish quality that Rose thought suited him well. But those eyes. At first glance, they looked to be a light grey, but they held many colors and variances that Rose had seen come and go with his moods – a sparkling silver when he was amused, almost a blue hue when he was sad or pensive, and a dark steel that night in the showers, when he looked at her… Rose wondered what it could all mean.

"Sorry about earlier," she started, determined to think of less serious things, or at the very least, stop ogling her friend. "I was just so tired of everybody hounding me about Prescott and Filch, and I just… snapped. I didn't realize it was you.''

He chuckled slightly, though Rose could see that it didn't quite reach his eyes. "S'alright. No offense taken."

"I didn't… We didn't..." Rose had no idea why she felt the need to tell him this. If she had been blushing before, by now her cheeks were practically burning up with embarrassment. "We were completely clothed when Filch caught us. You know how he is, he just… jumped to conclusions."

There were several moments of silence. She wished Scorpius would say something to put her out of her misery, but he remained silent. He gazed down at her with a look Rose couldn't quite place. His eyes were at the same time hard and soft, and Rose felt suddenly as though her head and heart were full of Cornish pixies.

After what felt to Rose like several long years, he spoke again. "Good." He said with finality, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know it's not my place to say, but you deserve far better than a broom cupboard." He tinged slightly pink at these last words.

Rose felt as if the air had been sucked dry around her. She licked her lips, nervous, afraid to look away from his steely eyes. His gaze flicked down to her mouth as she did this, and Rose felt as if the night had risen several degrees in temperature in an instant. Time seemed to stop, and she instinctively leaned forward, her arm blazing with heat where it brushed his, despite the chilly night. She was so close now that she could count the lashes on his eyes, see his breath swirling out of his mouth in a warm fog that stood against the frigid air. She had a sudden, wild desire to lick the one freckle that stood alone on his neck.

For a second, she couldn't breathe, couldn't tell you her name if she was held at wandpoint and her life depended on it, couldn't think of anything else in the world, not quidditch, or the potions essay she still needed to complete for tomorrow, or Prescott…

Prescott.

Scorpius seemed to come to his senses at the same time she did. He suddenly stood, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his immaculate robes.

"Shall we be off then?" he asked casually, though Rose wondered if his voice felt a bit tighter than his usual smooth tones.

"Suppose so," she replied, deciding that if he could act as if nothing had just happened, then she could too. She stood, her head still ringing with the adrenaline of the previous moment.

The rest of their patrol went without much excitement. When Scorpius finally dropped Rose off back at the Gryffindor common room, as he always did, she had a moment of gripping fear and wild anticipation, wondering if perhaps he would try to kiss her goodbye. She was both relieved and inexplicably crestfallen when he shoved his hands in his pockets and muttered a quick good night, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else than with her. She moved as if to hug him, hoping to restore some kind of balance in their friendship, but he moved at the last instant and her hand inelegantly collided with his hard chest. It took a moment for the shock to register, and she awkwardly patted his pectoral, all while sending a quick prayer to Merlin that the earth would just go ahead and swallow her whole.

There was another moment of silence. Rose was sure there had been more of those this evening alone than cumulatively within their entire friendship.

"See you in potions tomorrow, Rose." He said, and turned to walk down the empty corridor.

Rose quickly gave the password to the Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. Thankfully, it was empty, just the flames flickering in the fireplace making reassuring crackling sounds.

She sank into one of the plush scarlet chairs by the hearth, and buried her head in her hands, letting aloud a groan that she'd been holding in for what seemed like all night. What had happened to her? She and Scorpius had been friends – just friends – for as long as she could remember. He was pleasant to talk to, and excellent competition all around of course, but that was strictly it. She was not one of those floozies who spent hours doodling their names next to his in their diaries; she had never been one of those girls. Not to mention, she had a boyfriend! A boyfriend who she – well, if it wasn't love, it was at least a very fond like.

She resolved that she must just be tired. It had been a long week. The stress of classes and Heads duties and having a boyfriend was getting to her, and she was beginning to imagine herself into fancying one of her best mates. She would have a good sleep, and wake up for classes tomorrow completely cured of this insanity that drove her to do silly things like want to kiss Scorpius Malfoy on top of the Astronomy Tower. She laughed. He must have thought her absolutely batty! No wonder he'd looked so uncomfortable when he'd suggested they leave. Silly Rose Weasley had been trying to snog him, and he'd run at his first opportunity. She shook her head. She couldn't blame him.

And yet… hadn't he been the one to lean in first? Perhaps Rose had imagined it.

She finally got up to her dormitory and off to sleep, pondering that one vital question over and over again in her mind.

I just wanted to take a tiny second here to thank everybody who has taken the time to read this story, and let you know that Chapter 3 is in the works and will hopefully be up by the end of the weekend. Lots of love, md92