Note from the Author: Okay, so, this would have been up a lot sooner, but Draco was giving me trouble. As will be obvious soon enough, he really didn't want to talk about it, not to me or to Scorpius. Oi.
Last chapter! Al's point of the triangle will be up eventually, in a quite different format, and that's where you'll get the scenes you've been asking for! :)
Scenes in italics are scenes from the past.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own any of it, never have, and most likely never will.
Fighting Briars - Chapter Four
The heady scent of roses was the first thing he became aware of as he appeared in a lane just in front of a small cottage. Scorpius had never seen or been to Rose's house before, but as he gazed at the small, picturesque cottage, he was struck by two things. First, how different it was from his own family home, and second, how well it suited her.
This is a place you come home to, he thought as he stood there, taking it all in. Slowly, he made his way around the small house, reveling in all the little details, like the climbing ivy and the curtains in all the windows. He couldn't keep a smile from his face, either, and some part of him wondered what on earth was wrong, but deep down, he knew that nothing was. Everything was actually right for the first time in a very long time.
She was sitting right where her father had said she would be, facing away from him, into the wild tangle of roses climbing over a white archway that led further into the cottage's gardens. She sat perfectly still where she was, not shifting, not moving, and if he hadn't spent seven years watching her do the same thing so often, he would have wondered if she was all right.
He stood and watched her for a long time as the sun sank closer and closer to the horizon, bathing the gardens in a soft golden light. He had been in a rush before, prodded on by an unrelenting sense of urgency, but now that he was here, so close to her, there was no need to hurry. He had all the time in the world.
"Your father said I might find you here." He spoke softly, pitching his voice just loud enough to carry to where she sat. There was one long moment of stillness after his words before she turned, slowly, where she sat.
Seeing her face, frowning slightly as she tried to make out his features against the setting sun, triggered something in him, and he knew, more powerfully than he had ever known anything, that he had made the right choice. Being here was right, what he had done was right.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper.
"At the moment?" he asked. "Standing in your garden, waiting to be invited to sit down." He watched as she closed her eyes and shook her head, looking slightly pained, and it was with a pang that he noticed the lines of sadness etched in her face, lines that hadn't been there at the summer's start.
"You're supposed to be getting Bonded," she said, and there was a tremor in her voice, as though the words cost her something dear.
Slowly, he came toward her then, and couldn't keep himself from smiling as she turned quickly away at his approach. Nothing she did now could keep him from his purpose. He knew the truth, and he knew why he had come, and he didn't intend to leave until he'd accomplished what he'd set out to accomplish.
"Well," he said slowly as he sat beside her on the bench, facing the opposite direction, toward the house."That didn't end up working out quite as was originally planned." The slight stiffening of her body as his skin came so close to hers didn't escape him, nor did the goosebumps now prominent on the arm nearest him. She shook her head against his words, not looking at him, and he smiled once more before taking pity on her. "I got jilted," he said heavily, sighing for good measure.
It took a moment for his words to register. But once they had, she turned her head, frowning, look at him. He kept his eyes trained innocently and resolutely forward, focusing on the open window of a gable of the house in front of him, a pseudo-regretful look on his face. But as her eyes narrowed, the smile he couldn't seem to keep away betrayed him.
"You got jilted?" she repeated, her skepticism clear, even with only those three words. He glanced sideways at her, and took in both her raised eyebrow and the disbelief in her voice.
"I did!" he insisted, mastering the urge to laugh. He crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to be insulted at her disbelief. Her gaze didn't waver for an instant. "Well, I didn't say it wasn't a carefully planned and agreed-upon jilting," he finally said. She shook her head, just like she used to when they were at school and she felt he and Al were behaving foolishly. She turned back to the roses, determined, it seemed, to ignore him.
It was a game they had perfected in their years at school together, and one that Scorpius was more than willing to play, not only because he was certain of his ability to win, but because it skipped over the past three years and everything that had happened. The game sent them back to a simpler time, and so Scorpius was more than willing to play, if that was what Rose wanted.
"Merlin, but she was amazing," he said, turning back to the house. Beside him, Rose turned once more to him, responding exactly the way he had hoped. He glanced at her and said, "She was. Impressive really. I couldn't have done it half so well," being deliberately vague because he knew it would irritate her.
"Done what?" Rose asked in the exasperated tone Scorpius had been hoping for, and he smiled smugly, knowing he'd won the first round. From the look on her face, Rose knew it, too.
"I told you," he said slowly, patiently. "I got jilted. In rather a spectacular manner. They'll be talking about it for years, I expect." To his utter delight, Rose glared at him and growled his name.
He laughed then, because he couldn't help it, couldn't keep it in anymore. He grasped the edge of the bench, leaned back, and laughed. It felt so good to laugh again! He couldn't remember the last time he really had, the last time he'd been able to let go enough. He felt so light, lighter than he had in three years. For the first time since their disastrous conversation by the lake, he felt free, like a bird let loose from its cage. Everything was new, everything was wonderful, and he felt as if he was experiencing every positive emotion for the first time.
He told her what had happened, told her of Honoria's concerns and her plan, told her that Honoria didn't love him, and he made it plain that he certainly didn't love her. He told her how she had called it off, and how she had jilted him, to let him save face. He told her all of it, stringing her along, catching her up in the story against her will, and delighting anew every time he caught her hanging on his every word.
When he had almost reached the end of his story, Rose was determinedly not looking at him. She was instead watching the progress of one bobbing rose very intently. Suppressing a chuckle, Scorpius kept his eyes on her, waited for her to give in. When she refused, he did chuckle, softly, before reaching over and running his fingers lightly over her arm.
Her breath hitched in her throat as she jerked back, meeting his eyes almost inadvertently.
"I caught up with her outside the chapel," he whispered, enjoying himself probably more than he should have. "I thanked her for doing what I was too afraid to do, and I let her go. My mother sent me home. I came here. And that's the story."
He was mere inches away from her now, and she seemed incapable of looking away from him, and if he was honest with himself, he knew that he was scarcely more able to look away from her. He was intensely aware of everything about her, more in tune with her in that moment than he could ever remember being in his life. He could count every freckle spattered across her nose, hear every soft breath. He could feel her trembling slightly under his touch, fully aware that this was the first time they had physically, meaningfully touched since their encounter on the Hogwarts Express so long ago.
After a long, painfully intense moment, she closed her eyes and swallowed, clearly trying to regain the composure he had worked so hard to rob from her. "But what are you doing here, Scorpius?" she finally asked.
"You always used to do that," he said vaguely as he debated how to best use the upper hand he had gained. "Used to drive me crazy because I could never figure out why."
"What?" she breathed, opening her eyes, puzzled. The corner of his mouth rose once more.
"Ask questions you already know the answer to," he whispered, inching his head closer to hers. He heard her breath catch in her throat. "Luckily, I know how to punish you."
"Do you?" she breathed. He nodded.
"I'm not going to answer your question."
And then he had closed the distance between them and was kissing her. With one hand guiding her face to his and the other at the small of her back, he kissed her the way he had dreamed of kissing Rose Weasley since he was fifteen years old. And when her arms came up to twine around his neck, when she responded to his kisses with kisses of her own, he was lost.
He had started out deliberately gentle, but the longer the kiss went on, the more intense it became. The first time he had kissed her, he had used it to communicate everything he hadn't known how to say, his anger, his betrayal, his pain. And though this kiss was so vastly different, he still used it the same way. He told her that it was all done, all in the past. Everything that had happened, every hurt, every misunderstanding, it was all done, all forgotten. None of it mattered, not anymore.
When he tasted salt, he pulled back to see that she was looking up at him, tears falling down her cheeks. With a tender smile, he cradled her face gently in his hands, wiping the wetness away, wiping everything away. With a look full of more than he ever would have thought possible, she reached up and caught one of his hands, threading her fingers through his own, pressing a kiss to his palm.
"I never stopped loving you, you know," he whispered. Her eyes fluttered closed at his words, and he never knew he could feel so much for one person. "Even though I was so angry with you, and I wanted to hate you . . . I couldn't. And I couldn't understand why. But after hearing everything you said to Al, I finally did. And I knew you were right, all along." She shook her head slightly. "But I know it doesn't matter anymore, and so now I'm going to ask you straight out something I should have asked you ages ago." Rose opened her eyes and looked into his. "Do you love me?" he whispered.
"You shouldn't do that, you know," Rose said. He frowned slightly, trying not to let his puzzlement and concern show.
"What?" he asked
Rose smiled, and in the instant before it happened, Scorpius knew he had just let her win a round. "Ask questions you already know the answer to." And before he could say another word, she reached up and pulled his face down to hers.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, on that garden bench with her. They sat there, talking and discussing and just being together until the sun had almost left the sky. They talked about all the things that should have been said three years ago, about the things that should have been said since. She asked him about being an Auror and the things he'd learned, and he asked her about her travels and the people she'd met. And they talked about three years ago and about reasons and questions and mistakes. Then they talked about when and how long and why not and what now.
And at the end of it all, they finally came to what Scorpius had really wanted to talk about, since the moment he'd left the chapel and come to this small cottage. "Rose," he said softly, brushing his thumb idly over the knuckles of her hand. "Rose – if the past three years have proven anything, they have proven that there is nothing on this earth that can stop me loving you." She looked up from where her head rested on his shoulder, waiting patiently, and he felt – flustered and somewhat unsure for the first time since he'd left the chapel. "Rose, I –" He stopped, trying to figure out the best way to say what he knew still needed to be said. "It is the tradition for Malfoy men to be married at the age of twenty-one," he said softly, and felt her shift slightly beside him. When he glanced down at her, she was still looking up at him, and she didn't seem shocked or surprised by what he'd said.
"You've never been one for tradition," she said.
"No," he agreed. "But all the more reason to maybe find one to follow. I know it may seem fast, seem like it's rushing, but –"
"It's not," she said softly, before he could. And when she looked up and met his eye, he knew she understood exactly what he meant. "And I will," she finished softly. For a moment, he was confused, not knowing what she meant, and he looked down at her in that confusion, silently asking for an explanation. She raised her eyebrows. "You were asking me to marry you just then, weren't you?"
For the second time that day, Scorpius answered before he'd had time to think about what it was he would say. "Yes," he said forcefully, and the force of the answer took him by surprise. It seemed to take her by surprise, too, for her eyes met his suddenly, slightly startled. "Yes," he said again, softer but with no less conviction, for as he said it, he was incredibly aware that he'd never been more certain of anything in his life. "Unfortunately, I have to play the part of the grieving, jilted groom for a little while, or people might get suspicious, so we'll have to keep it quiet for a little while, but yes. I was – I am asking you to marry me."
She kissed him once then, long and soft. "The people who need to know will know," she said with a smile, dispelling any lingering fear he might have had that she was upset with the arrangement. Then, out of nowhere, she frowned slightly.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said with a sigh. "Just . . . I suppose that has to include Al."
Scorpius laughed. "Yes, unfortunately, I'm afraid that can scarcely be avoided."
They sat together in happy, contented silence then, watching night descend around them, and Scorpius wished it might remain so always. But she had reminded him of two tasks that needed to be taken care of immediately, and so, with great regret, he said softly, "I should be getting home." She sighed and nodded.
"Yes," she agreed.
"I'll be back tomorrow morning," he promised. "And I'll talk to your father then."
"Why tomorrow?" she asked, a smile playing around her mouth. He took a deep breath.
"Because I have to talk to my father first," he said, trying to steel himself for what would probably be the most uncomfortable confrontation of his life.
Rose walked him to the edge of her property, both of them ignoring the fact that they'd seen Rose's father watching them from the kitchen window, both of them pretending they hadn't noticed him catch Scorpius' eye in knowing suggestion.
They said their goodbyes in the lane, lingering perhaps a little longer than necessary, but eventually Scorpius could put off his departure no longer, so he kissed Rose one last time, and turned on the spot, appearing suddenly on the darkened stoop of his parents' home. Through the ornate glass on the front door, he could see a light spilling out of his father's study.
He slipped through the front door as quietly as he could, trying to make it up the stairs to his room unnoticed, hoping to postpone, even if just for the evening, the inevitable conversation waiting for him in the room down the hall. Unfortunately, he made it only as far as the third stair when his father's voice rang out.
"Scorpius? Could you come in here, please?" Scorpius froze, his foot already on the next step, his face in a grimace, before sighing deeply and turning. He descended the few steps to the landing and walked down the hall to his father's study like a condemned man facing the gallows.
Inside, his father was facing one of the large windows that overlooked the gardens, his face in profile. Taking a deep breath, Scorpius crossed the threshold and stood just beyond the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. "Yes, Father?" he said hesitantly, waiting for the blow to come.
"I would like," his father started, not moving from the window, "to talk to you about this afternoon's . . . unforeseen events." Predictably, his father's voice was calm and even and betrayed no hint of his true feelings. Scorpius swallowed his apprehension and tried to respond as evenly.
"This afternoon's events were –"
"Planned between yourself and Miss Ridgeton," his father broke in, and then he turned to face his son, taking everything in with a gaze as steady and even as his voice.
Scorpius looked up in slight surprise, then down again quickly, carefully forming his response. "It was Honoria's wish that –"
"I am perfectly aware who orchestrated the change, Scorpius," his father said, cutting him off with ease. Scorpius bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a hasty retort. "But I do not believe you can say that it was only Honoria's wish."
Scorpius kept his eyes carefully trained on the carpet at his father's feet. "I was fully prepared to go through with the ceremony, sir," he said quietly.
"I know," his father said, and the tone in his voice was unreadable. "That's what I find interesting." The comment startled Scorpius into looking up and meeting his father's gaze unintentionally.
"Sir –?" he asked cautiously.
"Rose Weasley?" his father asked softly, one eyebrow slightly raised. There was no censure in his voice, but neither was there any other emotion besides, somewhat bizarrely, mild curiosity.
"How did you –?" Scorpius started, concern, confusion, and mild panic drawing the question out of him.
"Her parents," he replied, crossing to his desk to hold up a creased piece of parchment, "sent an owl. Thought we might like to know where you were. But I didn't need the owl, Scorpius. I've been waiting, waiting for you to say something. The arrangement was that the match could be negated by either party at any time. I waited for you to say something, but you never did." Draco Malfoy beheld his son with mild curiosity then, but nothing more. "Thank Merlin for Honoria Ridgeton's cold feet, yes?" he said levelly, but the insinuation was clear.
Scorpius colored and looked away. "It wasn't like that," he said softly but pointedly. His father made some sort of sound, deep in his throat, but Scorpius had no idea what it meant, like he had no idea what any of this conversation had meant, like he had never known. Just once, he wanted his father to just come out and say something, instead of speaking in riddles and ambiguities that Scorpius was somehow supposed to be able to decipher! Yet even on this, something this important, he still didn't. "Are you displeased, sir?" Scorpius asked, his frustration finally overcoming him.
Draco Malfoy's eyebrows raised at that, and some level of surprise at his son's outburst showed on his face. "Displeased?" he repeated. "With what, exactly?"
"With anything!" Scorpius said in frustration, feeling his heart pounding in his throat, knowing that there was no way to stop this now. "With any decision I've made in the past eleven years of my life!" He looked at his father carefully, imploringly, searching desperately for any hint of any emotion that might give him some clue into his father's thoughts. Draco beheld his son with the same level, even gaze that he always used. "Before I left for Hogwarts, you told me to remember that I was a Malfoy," Scorpius said, almost pleading, crossing the room to stand directly in front of his father's large desk. "But I have spent my life since then ignoring everything, every standard that Malfoys have stood for for generations, and I want to know your opinion on any of the choices I have made!"
Draco Malfoy did not answer his son for a very long time. Instead, he stood, half in shadow, frowning down at the carpet of his study. Those moments were the longest of Scorpius' life, as he stood, tensed, waiting for his father to respond to his angry outburst, growing more and more worried with every moment that passed, with every additional moment that his father needed to decide what his response would be.
"First of all," he said slowly when he finally spoke, "Let us clarify one point. You have not so much ignored Malfoy traditions as trampled them into the ground, leaving them practically unrecognizable in your wake." Scorpius flushed, but there was no time to dispute the point, for his father had barely paused before continuing. "You were not in the Malfoy house, you did not have the Malfoy friends, you did not choose the Malfoy profession, and now you have done away with the Malfoy marriage. Standards that your ancestors spent lifetimes establishing, you have destroyed in a matter of years. You have disgraced the traditions of the Malfoy family through utter indifference, which is, in many ways, far worse than if you had treated them with open hostility. Your forebears would be disgusted."
By this point, Scorpius was staring at the carpet without blinking, unable to swallow, unable to move. His father's voice had grown more and more intense as the speech had worn on, laced with a quality Scorpius had never heard there before, but which filled him with hot dread all the same. This was it. He had crossed the line, finally pushed his father to the limit he was certain he should have reached years ago. Rose was what his father could no longer ignore, and in another moment he'd be disowned, thrown out of his house, left to the mercy of the Auror program and Rose's family, hoping he could find his own way in the world. He braced himself for the blow.
"If your grandfather could see you now, he would disown you on the spot," his father said forcefully. "And I can give you no higher praise than that."
The silence in the room rang as Scorpius stood, tensed and waiting for a blow that never came. When he realized what his father had said, his head snapped up. "What?" he asked, meeting his father's eye, shocked. Draco Malfoy sighed and turned toward the window, his face lined and troubled for the first time in Scorpius' memory.
"I know it has – not been easy for you, Scorpius," he said softly. "Being my son. I have not made it easy. This has been . . . both deliberate and unavoidable. I am – not proud of the choices I made in the past. I knew at the age of eighteen that I would spend the rest of my life atoning for them, and I was prepared to do so. It was no more than I deserved, the consequences my actions had earned. But you –" He closed his eyes for a moment then, pained. Scorpius stood where he was, frozen in place, afraid to move for fear he would break the spell. He was only just beginning to realize that he did not know the man in front of him, not in the slightest.
"I begged your mother to allow me to negate our arrangement," Draco said, his voice weighted and raw. "She refused. And when you were born, I – you can have no idea the distress I felt. I knew you would spend your life paying for my mistakes. The only solution I could see was to distance myself from you, and hope that, in so doing, I was able to spare you from that fate. If I had ever shown that I was proud of you, even just to you, there are those who would stand in your way for that reason only." As Scorpius listened, he thought of the man at the Auror reception and knew that his father was speaking the truth. Well, he would have to be, wouldn't he? And it was all suddenly falling into place. "And I told you to remember that you were a Malfoy so that when you were met with people who treated you with contempt and hostility you had never earned, you would know that you were never to blame."
Draco Malfoy's voice broke slightly, almost unperceptibly, on his last words, but Scorpius heard it. For a long while, he stood in silence, trying to find the right thing to say.
"Mum was right," he said finally.
"Usually she is," his father said quietly. "To what do you refer?"
"She told me that someday, I'd understand." Something changed in that instant. Scorpius would never fully be able to say what, but something changed. His father met his eyes then, and quickly looked away, his next words coming so softly that Scorpius had to strain to hear them.
"My biggest regret has been not being able to tell you that your life may be the best thing that has ever happened to this family. And you have done it all on your own merit, more than I could ever have believed possible."
"And . . . what about Rose?" Scorpius asked softly when the silence had gone on just long enough to become uncomfortable.
"What about Rose?" his father asked, his usual formal tone returning, but with an edge of amusement now.
"I want to marry her," Scorpius said, soft but serious. He thought he saw his father smile.
"I would certainly hope so," was all he said.
"Would we have your approval?" There was a pause.
"I'm curious," his father said finally. "Were I to say no, what would you do?"
"Marry her anyway," Scorpius said immediately. "But I should like to have your approval." There was a longer pause then, but when his father finally spoke, Scorpius was certain of the smile.
"Rose Weasley," he said softly, shaking his head slightly. He looked over his shoulder at Scorpius, who stood holding his breath, waiting for his reply. "If she's anything like her parents," he said, on his way out of the room, "your life will never be dull." And then he was gone.
Scorpius stared at the place where his father had been, a smile slowly spreading across his face.
That night, he dreamed of a hallway in a chapel that opened out onto a maze of thorns and briars. As he stood before the entrance, he steeled himself for the battle ahead, knowing that the thorns would put up a true fight, and it would take all his wits to make it through unscathed. But just as he was about to enter the maze, he felt a hand close around his wrist. Looking back, startled, he saw Rose Weasley standing behind him, smiling. "Come on," she said, pulling him gently through the archway. As they began to walk, the briars parted and pulled back, leaving a straight and clear path ahead of them.
With a smile, he took Rose's hand, and together, they walked forward to whatever lay ahead, confident in the knowledge that there were no briars left to fight.
Thanks for reading through to the end! I hope you enjoyed it!
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