A/N: Okay, so a three year chapter gap really has no excuse. Basically, I lost a lot of inspiration, and I did not want to write fanfiction any more. So, I have been off the radar for a while, despite wanting to complete this short story based around the Scorpius x Rose coupling on this site. Hopefully, I won't take another three years to write a chapter (they really aren't that long, let's be honest), because I've found some inspiration for it again, it seems. Also, procrastination helps. Still, I'm glad I returned to it, rather than abandoning it completely... at least, not yet.

Hopefully the chapter is decent. I just let the words flow, rather than beating myself up about it, like I usually do. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: As it goes, I do not own any characters here, or the Harry Potter franchise as it stands. Those rights belong to the one and only J.K. Rowling, who has given us a world of wonder, tears and delight. All I am doing is keeping the world alive with my own re-tellings, much like many other amazing writers on here. Thank you.

Many thanks to everyone who has read this small story, and enjoys it. I apologise for the lack of updates, and the fact that this update took... well, years to get here.

Fanged Geranium

Rose was intelligent (as expected of Hermione Granger's daughter, those pretentious Ravenclaw's whispered every. Damn. Day) but, that did not mean that she was a good girl. Unlike her mother, a notorious suck-up who was quick to please, Rose didn't care for much except her grades and the occasional night flight. She had little regard for authority, too, hence why she wasn't exactly prefect material, and that annoyed Hermione to no end.

It probably did not help that in her fourth year, Rose just might have spiked the Ravenclaw tables pumpkin juice with liquidised puking pastilles, ceasing any chance she might have had at being made one of the Prat Patrol. Yeah, her mum was fuming for weeks on end, but it had been worth it.

And though nothing could top her fourth-year genius, Rose could not hide her delight when she saw Malfoy hobble into the Great Hall that gloriously sunny morning, scowling as he made his way to an empty seat, probably muttering something under his breath about damn Weasley's and their lack of decorum.

Oh, yes. Losing about 30 plus points had been worth it, Rose thought gleefully.

"I can only guess that this was your doing?" Al asked rhetorically from beside her, flicking a butter-slicked knife first, towards Malfoy and his moody-self, then towards the Gryffindor hour glass, now minus a good 30 rubies. Biting into her toast, Rose simply shrugged.

"I was harassed, and defended myself accordingly." She answered between bites, earning a delightful look from her cousin that was a mix between pure disgust and concern. Lovely. Then, he scoffed, nicking a pancake from her plate before she could even think to stab his sneaky hand with a fork. "Well, could you not use my broom to do your dirty work, next time?" He asked, shovelling the food into his mouth and swallowing whole.

Albus was related to her father, alright.

"Okay, I didn't hit him that hard." She half-whined. "It's not like I dented your precious little Betsy, either. It was a tiny whack, Al, that's all." Rose couldn't hold back her snicker, then. Al was a bit weird when it came to his broomstick, which is why it would not surprise her in the least if he just so happened to come out as a lover of Brooms and nothing else.

"Leave Betsy out of this, Rosie. She did nothing to you." He hissed back playfully, kicking his cousin deftly under the table as she snorted (attractive, indeed), kicking him back.

"Miss Weasley." A voice called from behind her, ceasing whatever fun the two cousins were having. Ah, she knew that voice. "I hear you have detention with me this evening." Professor Longbottom continued, earning a small "For Godric's sake," from Rose, before turning around and facing her parents' friend with a delightful smile upon her lips.

From the corner of her eye, she could see a few smug Ravenclaw's snickering as they huddled together. Insufferable little twits, she thought, despite the toothy grin plastered to her face.

"Yes, professor, I heard something about that, too." Okay, she couldn't help herself. Rose knew Neville Longbottom well, and of all the teachers (except Slughorn, the great buffoon), he was probably the only one who tolerated her sass enough to let her get away with it. Actually, this little comment made his lips quirk, just slightly. The Ravenclaw's probably didn't like that she was getting away with sassing him, either, which only made the situation seem extra, for her.

Straightening, Neville cleared his throat. "Ahem, well, Miss Weasley, you will be joining me in Greenhouse 4 tonight, starting from seven. We will be extracting the Fanged Geranium teeth, so please bring your gloves." Al was probably grimacing beside Rose (he hated Herbology), and even she could barely contain her disdain; it wasn't her favourite subject, either, but she nodded along. At least it wasn't the mandrakes, this time…

"Oh, and one more thing." Neville continued, a small smile on his lips and pity in his eyes. Shit, Rose thought. This would not be good. "We will be joined by Mr. Malfoy tonight, so, please… be on your best behaviour." And with that, Neville turned on his heel, and ran for the hills before Rose could scream.

And much to the Ravencla tables amusement, Rose was fuming.

"Merlin's saggy-!"

x-x-x-x

Rose was pretty sure there were boot marks left in the ground, remnants of her journey to Greenhouse 4 that dry evening. She's even made the greenhouse rattle after slamming the door shut, but really, she was in no mood for pleasantries. Neville had betrayed her trust, making what would have been a decent – albeit, mind-numbingly boring – evening into Hell for her. He knew how she felt about Malfoy (and Ravenclaw's), so why, oh why did he let that pretentious prefect join her detention?

Because Malfoy was a little weasel, and said weasel knew that she hated his guts. So, yeah; he just had to make it worse for her.

"Ah, Weasley. Glad to see you could finally make it." Smirked the very person she had (unfortunately) been thinking about mere seconds ago, gloves on and his robe thrown onto a lone chair as he worked on the Fanged Geranium. Of course, the damn prefect was actually good at Herbology, both in practice and knowledge. Damn Ravenclaw. "I would deduct you 5 points for tardiness, but you're already suffering, so I'll play nice." Malfoy added sweetly (can Malfoy's ever be sweet?), and finally turned back to the plant he was playing dentist with.

"Where's Neville?" Rose asked nonchalantly, chucking her bag in the corner, her robe quickly following because, for Godric's sake, it was boiling in that damn greenhouse!

"That's Professor Longbottom to you, Weasley. And he had an errand to run. Apparently, Professor Slughorn took some mandrake leaves that he shouldn't have. Again." Okay, Rose had to laugh at that. Well, snort. She was a charming young woman, after all. She noticed Malfoy's eyebrow quirk up at that, though he didn't stop extracting the depotted geranium's fangs.

"Good. Hope the prick gets fired over it." She muttered, grabbing her gloves from her bag and shoving them on, before finding a potted Fanged Geranium waiting for her on the side. Luckily, Neville had made sure to keep her as far away from Malfoy as possible. Good.

"Now, now, Weasley, that's not a very nice thing to say about your biggest fan." The prefect half-smirked, successfully pulling a tooth from the annoyed geranium, placing it into the tray next to him. She silently hoped the geranium bit him, for revenge.

"I'd rather be knocked out by a baby mandrake than suffer through Slughorn's lectures." Rose muttered, grabbing her pliers and holding onto the plant pot as Malfoy gave an appreciative chuckle, much to her chagrin. She was not here to make him laugh. The twit wasn't even meant to be there, but, you know; he liked to give her Hell, and show off. You know; Ravenclaw, and all.

Actually, why was he there? Rose wouldn't ask, of course, but she had to wonder… he had better things to do, aside from babysit her. He was a Prefect, for Godric's sake, didn't he have patrol? Well, whatever his reason, it was probably to torment her. It had been one of his favourite pastimes since he became a prefect the year before.

"Ow! Merlin's beard!"

Rose cursed, loudly, glaring down at the fanged geranium that had bit her bloody palm, hard, through the glove. Good grief, why hadn't she been paying attention to the damn creature?

"What have you done now, Weasley?" The prick across from her asked. Ah, yeah. She'd been thinking about him, for some reason. The insufferable, self-obsessed Ravenclaw who had got her into this mess in the first place, all because she was flying a broom. Yeah, it was at night, when she was meant to be in bed, but… details.

"Er… Nothing." She muttered, trying to ignore the throbbing pain coming from her hand. But, damnit, Malfoy had noticed, and was already making his way towards her.

He didn't even ask before taking her wrist, wrenching the garment off her hand and studying the damage that had been done by the hissing geranium Rose had knocked over after its attack. "No blood. Pretty sure you'll live. Just remember to depot the geranium before showing it the pliers next time." He sighed, dropping her wrist and walking back to his plant.

Rose stilled, staring at his back for a moment. He had stood too close to her. It was uncomfortable, especially when he'd touched her wrist. Malfoy didn't touch people, especially Weasley's. He was private and liked his space, that Rose was sure of. Oh, and why was he so concerned? Like, genuinely concerned for her. It was a bloody plant bite, nothing big. If anything, he should have sneered at her and told her she was dumb for letting a little plant get to her.

But he didn't. He was weirdly nice, and now he was ignoring her, again. Well, good. That's how she liked it. She could ignore how he touched her wrist, or how his stupid blonde hair was falling into his eyes as he worked on the fanged geranium. Heck, she could even ignore how good he smelled, a hint of musk that was…

Oh.

Oh, shit.