"HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID?"

He kicked over an owl stand, then another. It wasn't fair! It wasn't his fault! Rosie knew that! She knew that it was nothing personal. What would his dad say? What could Scorpius possibly do to ever change his mind? It wasn't his fault! None of it was! How could Rosie not see that he couldn't avoid this? His father's word was practically law! 'What I say, goes, young man,' he recited in his mind. 'You will marry who I say you will marry! I did not raise you to question my authority! You will do as you're told!'

Albania! Of all places, Albania! Damn rules! Damn life!

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" he screamed. "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO ALBANIA! I DON'T WANT TO MARRY SOME… SOME… PUREBLOOD WENCH!" Knocking over another stand, he watched as it toppled across the room. Tears began to prickle in his eyes. What could his father really do to him if he refused? Disown him? Torture him? He thought back on his Christmas holiday and shuddered.

Grunting, he clenched his fist, letting out a brutal cry when it connected with the cold stone wall.

With a crunch, something seemed to break in him. His hand throbbed as he collapsed against the wall. Biting his lip, he started to shake. Why did he have to call Rosie that? He knew how much that name hurt her. His father told him a lot of things, horrible things about the Weasley family that Scorpius refused to believe. It was almost cruel, the way his father condemned them. He grew up seeing the sneer on his father's face whenever the name was mentioned, watching it intensify as whenever the subject morphed to the Potter family. Trash. Mutts. Half-bloods. Mudbloods. Traitors. No one could really be repulsive as that.

The only truth that Scorpius knew about them was that the family had been poor once. While Rosie had never felt the crunch of poverty, her father certainly had, and he had worked hard to make sure his children never knew. She said that he was a good man. He fought a lot of evil people. Helped defeat Voldemort.

To be fair, so had Scorpius' father and grandfather. So what did that mean anyway?

The sun was starting to rise, the owls returning, but they kept their distance. It only took a moment to realize that Eule had returned and began hooting at his master. Scorpius drew his legs up, letting the owl rest on his knee. He petted Eule with his uninjured hand, letting his head rest against the wall.

Thank Merlin it was only Saturday. No classes to attend after being awake all night. Not like he would want to attend them anyway. But the thought was still liberating. He could skip studying for the day and just rest. There had been too much stress in his life as it was. Tonight was supposed to have been a good night. A farewell before they would be so caught up in parchment and emotion to be able to speak. The locket, one that his family would never miss, he had taken during the Christmas holidays. Rosie, even if she did hate him, would know that someone wanted her to have something beautiful. Warm, inviting and special.

She had the locket, owned a part of him, of his family. He wished, vainly, that it had been more than just a trinket to her. Who was to say that she hadn't already pawned it off on that chatty little Lily, who would probably make up some cock and bull story over it? Or maybe it was in the trash, under a pile of half-chewed rejected Bertie Botts beans or essay scraps?

Maybe she was laughing at him, telling all her friends about how foolish Scorpius was to think that she loved him. Or that he was foolish enough to believe that she was with him and him alone. Telling his secrets, his weaknesses, his fears. All of which he tried very hard to hide. Hell, he didn't even belong in his own house. He knew that. But what would his father have said if he had been put in the house that the Sorting Hat had originally considered? Where would he have been then? Who would he have been? Would he be this much of a disgrace?

He shut his eyes. No. He couldn't let his imagination run away like this.

Scorpius, sick of turning over impossible questions in his head, pictured Viedemal. So cold, so quiet. Waiting. She had worn a black cloak when they met. Her gaze was forever fixated on the ground. Her face always covered in black fabric and shadow. Not speaking, not laughing. Not even a wisp of hair to fly about her. Nothing. The air seemed to freeze around her, like ice on a window. Untouchable, but you could feel her presence. Thinking about her, just mentioning her… it chilled him.

How was he supposed to marry someone who had never looked him in the eye? More appropriately, how can anyone ever love a shadow?

"What am I going to do, Eule?"

The owl cocked his head and hopped down, going after the nuts and fruit that Scorpius tried to feed him earlier.

Careful of his injured hand, Scorpius got to his feet. Not that he expected an answer from Eule, but really, who else could he talk to?

Shaking off the dried droppings and feathers from his robes, he wandered to the infirmary.