A/N. Hello fanfiction world.
Well. It's been a long time between drinks. Believe me when I say that there is not a soul on this Earth who is more excited for this chapter to have finally been written then me. There have been many obstacles from general busyness at uni to unbreakable writer's block to a frustratingly persistent illness that have prevented progress (and almost driven me insane in the process). However, everything has been sunshine and lollipops for a few weeks now and, hence, this little chapter could be churned out. I hope you enjoy, despite its briefness. All my love forever and always to anyone who is still following/reading/reviewing this fic – you literally make my life brighter and for that I cannot thank you enough.
Also, apologies as always for any and all mistakes throughout – this was largely written during the wee hours of the morning and my ability to proof read my own stuff isn't great at the best of times. Furthermore, this chapter changes perspectives a few times (even though its not first-person), so I hope that doesn't confuse or annoy people too much.
Disclaimer – I'm not J.K. Rowling….I'M ROBERT GALBRAITH BITCHES! (That's clearly a lie, I am neither and I do not own any names you recognize).
Please review - they inspire me and make me happy :)
Rose had dedicated a great amount of time and brainpower into thinking up witty and ingenious remarks to say to Malfoy when she saw him next. In fact, said witty remarks took up a solid 8 pages of the 44 she held in her hands. Each one was as funny and deeply intellectual as the last.
Unfortunately, when faced with Scorpius Malfoy in the flesh, looking so smug and pigheaded and Malfoy-ish with his blonde hair and his grey eyes and his annoyingly pointy and perfect cheekbones and that damn – FOCUS ROSE!. The point was, when she saw him sitting there, on her desk, every single one of those ingenious remarks flew out of her head. It's like his smugness and smarmy stuck-up-ness forced her brain to malfunction and her memory to collapse. There was something; something deep within that smirk of his that destroyed her memory and ignited her fury until it was almost blinding. With no witty retort or intelligent insult, Rose said the one phrase that seemed to still be floating around in her head (besides 'Kill the Bastard!').
"ANTI-RETRACT THIS ASSHOLE!"
With a wild wave of her arm and a well-practiced incantation, Rose sent the strongest stinging hex she could muster (which was a very powerful one at that) at Scorpius Malfoy's precious, curiously calm, face.
At least she planned to.
Instead, there were a few unimpressive sparks at the end of her wand, accompanied by a faint 'Pffszt' noise and absolutely nothing else. Malfoy wasn't sent flying back over her desk clutching his face and screaming in pain. He wasn't sprouting apologies and begging her for forgiveness. He just sat there, completely normal, as Rose stared at the end of her wand in total disbelief and bamboozlement. She did the incantation again and still nothing. That's when the devil-spawn decided to speak.
"We're at the Ministry, love," he gave her a self-loving smirk, "Hex-free zone."
Arrogance seemed to spew from his every pore as he gestured to his person.
"You can't touch me."
Her eye twitched violently as she stared him down, his words ringing in her ears.
You can't touch me.
You. Can't. Touch. Me.
The hell she couldn't!
Before he had enough time to gather his next breath, Scorpius was thrown back against Rose's desk, the woman herself on top of him throwing punches left, right and center, all the clutter she'd been holding sprawled forgotten in the doorway. She was completely uncontrollable. (Had she been in any clear state of mind that may have scared Rose ever so slightly. As it was, she just continued to assault him.)
"Here!" she said with a deadly gleam in her eye as she looked between his face and where his ring sat on her left hand, "Seeing as you like the ring so god damn much, have a taste!"
Then she punched him in the mouth.
Literally. In the mouth.
Scorpius thought he may have heard and felt one of his teeth crack.
"Merlin! Ro – ah!" He couldn't decide whether it was more important that he clutch his mouth to check of damage and stop himself from swallowing his fraction of tooth he was sure was now floating around in there somewhere, or try to get her madly flailing fists restrained. When she landed a particularly hard punch to the top of his chest, he decided controlling her hands was of a greater priority.
"Don't you think you're – ah! – overreacting?!" he managed to capture one of her wrists in his hand but she only used it to throw his own hand back into his nose. He may have heard something crack then too. He wasn't sure whether it was the back of his skull from being thrown into the desk, his nose from having his hand thrust onto it, or the desk itself which was not designed to support the weight of the two people atop it.
"Over-reacting?!" as soon as he heard her screech he knew he'd said the wrong thing. The doubling speed and force she used to assault him only reinforced it further, "My father is in hospital because of your little joke and you think I'm OVER REACTING?!"
"Ok that I am truly sorry for," Scorpius managed to get in before Rose slapped him across the face (gauging by the sound he suspected he'd have a hand-print there for a solid week), "Merlin and Morgana! Would you stop?!"
"Stop?! Oh I can't!" she slapped his hands away from where they were trying to tame her, an altogether new and frightening gleam of pure maniacal pleasure shining back at him, "I've made my fists sign an anti-retraction statement!"
She gave him another solid punch to the nose, which had him wincing and thoroughly dazed for several seconds. Yep, something in there was broken too.
"It is completely beyond my control now," her voice rose several octaves as she pulled back her hand once more, "So you'll just have to put up with it!"
She tried to slap him again, but he managed to catch her hand. By some stroke of luck he managed to capture the second one that was aiming right for his nose again (seriously, why was she always aiming for his nose? Did she not like his nose? Or did she like his nose so much that this was all some kind of – you have a psychotic Weasley on top of you; FOCUS!) With both her hands restrained, Scorpius tried to talk some sense into her over the grunting and heaving she was doing trying to get free (it may have been distracting under different circumstances, but given that she seemed to want to actually kill him, he dismissed any urges fairly quickly).
"Rose," he struggled to keep a firm grasp on her wrists as she struggled and muttered something that sounded like 'turd-munching, no-good, rat-bastard!', "Rose, please just listen to me – I had no intention of this effecting your father."
"No intention?!" she scowled at him and seemed to stay fairly stationary for a blissful minute, "And how, pray tell, was my supposed engagement to you NOT supposed to effect my father? Huh?! In what twisted alternate universe does me marrying a Malfoy not effect my father?"
Scorpius had no response for that one. Although, if she took the time to ask him why he didn't answer (even though he knew she wouldn't) he would say the prettiness of her eyes blinded him and caused him to forget his entirely plausible answer. Thankfully he was not required to answer in such a way (which probably saved his nose from yet another close encounter with her fist. Rose didn't seem to appreciate his poetic side). He was not required to answer due to the very worrying sound that rang through the entirely empty room.
Something that could best be described an eerie creak that sounded sort of like a wooden animal giving birth very slowly emerged from somewhere in their direct proximity. Scorpius froze, eying the room the best he could with his badly assaulted features to try and pinpoint where, exactly, the noise was coming from.
"Are you going to answer me?!" Apparently Rose hadn't heard the sound, and made a move to hit him again. He kept his grip on her wrists firm, still trying to listen for the source of the unsettling sound. When Rose grunted and shifted around on the desk (and dear Merlin his lap), Scorpius shushed her impatiently.
That probably wasn't the best move.
"Oh I'm sorry," the sarcasm dripping from her words as they rose in volume steadily, "Am I inconveniencing you? Gee, if there's one thing I didn't want, it was to make things uncomfortable for you! Now will you...Just….Merlin Scorpius – LET GO OF ME!"
It happened so quickly he barely had time to breathe let alone act.
With an almighty crack (and a squeal from the woman above him) Scorpius and Rose were sent tumbling to the floor in a flurry of wood and red untamed hair. With the heavy landing Scorpius was sure he felt something in his back go somewhere it wasn't supposed to, ripping the air from his lungs swiftly and most painfully. He coughed once or twice, trying to remember why this all seemed like a good idea. Because last time he checked, having shards of wood and Merlin knows what random bits of stationary inserted into his person was not part of the road to happiness.
He opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and found himself encased by a veil of red. There was only one other time he had the pleasure of witnessing such a thing, and that was last month when Rose had been above him (in a position not totally dissimilar to how they found themselves currently), her smile radiating down at him as he watched the remnants of euphoria wash over her face.
Never in his life had he ever witnessed something so beautiful.
He may have had the same thought now had he not been seriously concerned for his back and general ability to breathe. Instead he simply watched the shock wash over her face as she tried to comprehend what had just happened.
"Did," she started but had to stop to fully understand what she was about to say, "Did my desk just break?"
"Yep," the word came out as little more than a wheeze as oxygen very slowly returned to his body.
"But," she stopped again, raising herself up on her hands that he only just realized were no longer clasped in his own. Wait. Then what were his hands holding? He was most definitely holding something. A moment later it registered that he was now holding Rose against himself, arms wrapped around her and hands placed firmly in the center of her back. Well, he hadn't the foggiest how that happened. Though he couldn't say he was displeased that it did.
Rose tried to speak once more, "But how did it –"
"Are you ok?" the question came out entirely without his permission, cutting her off which he was almost certain would land him another punch to his badly bruised (possibly broken) nose. Instead she just looked at him strangely through the sea of red surrounding them in their own little bubble of reality. It was as if his comment had knocked her off guard, her fury and enthusiasm from just moments earlier lost as she sat, still straddling him in amongst the wreckage of her desk. She looked away from his eyes to study the disarray in her office, pushing some of her locks behind her ear, breaking their bubble.
"My…my desk. It just…"
Scorpius' hand reached up on its own accord and stroked her cheek. He was mad, of that he was sure. There is no way he could get away with this without losing one, maybe three appendages. Obviously concussed and not thinking clearly, he ignored such warnings and instead settled his hand on the side of her face, stroking over her cheekbone with his thumb as his fingers wound their way into that mane of hair he loved so much.
"Are you ok?" he spoke directly and slowly, his voice almost recovered from the fall as he stared into her confused eyes, "Are you hurt?"
She froze and for a moment he was sure she was going to punch him again. Instead, she took a shallow breath and Scorpius tried his hardest not to notice how tempting her lips looked.
"My," she stuttered and swallowed whatever had risen in her throat in hope of reestablishing the ability to speak. Scorpius found the movement most distracting, "My knees…"
She was still shocked, Merlin bless her – she really couldn't comprehend that they'd broken her desk. He would have laughed at her if he wasn't so damn distracted by how nice her hands felt where they rested against his chest. And how nice her legs felt. And basically how nice any part of her anatomy connected with his own felt. You know, besides the few parts of said anatomy that may very well be broken. Otherwise he felt swell.
Phoopzzt!
The sound was most peculiar and drew both Rose's and Scorpius' attention straight away. There, kneeling in the doorway was a rather short man in a rather funny hat. And in his hands he held a camera. He stared at the bewildered pair for a second before starting to back away on his knees very slowly, terror clear in his eyes.
"Is that…" Rose's consciousness seemed to be kicking back into gear, her eyes narrowing and any hint of the something-that-wasn't-rage-but-couldn't-be-properl y-identified that had been there mere seconds ago disintegrated as her fingers began to claw – yes, literally claw – at his chest, "Is that a reporter?"
Scorpius took a much too painful to be healthy breath and let it out slowly and painfully. "Yep."
Without further ado, Rose burst to her feet yelling profanities as she snatched her wand off the floor and darted after the small rotund man who was now sprinting for his life.
"Get back here!" Scorpius heard her yell, not yet ready to try and raise himself from the floor, "Get back here you insolent little-!"
There was a dull 'Pffszt' and Scorpius suspected she had once again forgotten about the whole 'No hexing within the Ministry' rule. This was supported by the "CURSED BLASTED TROLLOP OF A RULE!" followed by another array of profanities that rang out in the empty office. Scorpius did not pity the man.
"Come back here!" he heard her screech again, almost reaching the staircases surely, "Come back here and – hah! Take that!"
There was a clatter and a splat but no thud of a body so Scorpius figured no one had been seriously maimed. The squeaky gasp and the silence that encompassed the office following it did not reinforce his nerves however.
"MISS WEASLEY!" the great booming baritone of Mr. Grannet, head of Department and, consequently, Scorpius and Rose's boss, rang through the office, "Why did you just throw an ink stamp at my person?"
"I didn't throw it at you sir," she responded sheepishly and Scorpius had to do his best to hold in a snigger, "I was aiming for the reporter."
There was a beat of silence before Mr. Grannet's voice rang out again, "And what in the name of Merlin have you done to your knees?"
Mr. Bartholomew Grannet The Third (or Junior Junior as his grandfather had called him) had not expected anything particularly eventful to happen this particular Wednesday, his 3001st day being Head of The Department of International Magical Cooperation. Wednesdays tended to be quite good to him – good ole Hump Day, once it was over and done with he could take refuge in the fact that there was officially less than half a week until the weekend. Wednesday's were, typically, fairly same-old-same-old and that's exactly the way Bartholomew Grannet liked it.
Therefore, it was most surprising when a small fat man had pushed past him as he entered the Office (he considered walking the staircases from the ground floor to his office as his required daily exercise), apparently in quite a hurry to get away from the area. This was strange for as far as Mr. Grannet was aware, no one was ever in the office before him. (It was only right that, as Head of Department, he be there bright and early to ensure the day got off to a good start.) He pondered momentarily that this man may be a thief and contemplated apprehending him when the next completely unexpected event occurred.
An ink stamp – a very old, very large, and considerably weighty office-issue ink stamp – went flying past his head and crashed into the wall beside him.
His hand reflexively flew to his pocket for his wand as he tried to determine what or who was attacking him with stationary supplies. Surprise number three appeared in the form of Rose Weasley, apparent stamp-thrower, who let out a worried squeak as she bit her lip furiously. Upon closer inspection, he noticed her knees were bloodied and bruised, and her robes were covered with what seemed like splinters.
So much for same-old same-old.
Mr. Grannet eyed the two before him most suspiciously. In one chair sat Rose Weasley, red-faced and looking at anything that wasn't her colleague, her badly scratched knees haphazardly bandaged for the time being. Next to her sat Scorpius Malfoy, Rose's work partner and recent fiancée, slumped in a chair due to an inability to sit up straight, back badly damaged and head held back as he pressed a handful of tissues to his nose in an attempt to stop it bleeding (although it had only appeared bruised initially, upon finally standing semi-upright gravity played its part and suddenly what had been bruised nose with a small trickle of blood was now blackened and gushing. Hence the tissues). Plus, Rose's desk was broken.
Well, seeing them explain this one was going to be interesting.
"So," Mr. Grannet looked between the pair, Miss. Weasley looking sheepish whilst Mr. Malfoy strummed happily on his thigh with his free hand. He seemed much too relaxed and cheerful for a man whose nose was bleeding that badly, "Care to explain what happened to you, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I was attacked," he declared confidently, yet surprisingly without fear or distress. Well, it hardly seemed likely he'd broken his own nose.
"By whom?" Mr. Grannet did not suffer fools or trickery.
"What." He didn't phrase it as a question. At least Grannet didn't think he did.
"What?" Grannet clarified.
Mr. Malfoy simply attempted to nod and replied, "Exactly."
It was too early in the morning for riddles and Grannet felt his considerably limited patience wearing thin.
"What?!"
"Yes that's right – what."
"Scorpius!" Miss. Weasley muttered warningly, picking up on the anger building within Grannet that the young Mr. Malfoy was apparently unable to detect. Mr. Malfoy glanced at her sideways (he possibly smiled; one couldn't see much past the tissues) before restating.
"It was a what sir – what attacked me, not whom."
Grannet waited for further elaboration, but it soon become apparent that Mr. Malfoy did not feel it necessary to continue. The man was an infallible charmer and very intelligent – Grannet knew this when he hired him – but that didn't stop him from being a pain in the ass on occasion. Like now, for example.
"And…what attacked you?"
There was definitely visible cheek indentation the same as that made when smiling behind Mr. Malfoy's tissues as he replied. "A squirrel."
Not the answer Mr. Grannet was expecting.
From the way in which Miss. Weasley almost caused herself serious whiplash as she turned her head quickly to look at her work colleague and fiancée, he imagined it wasn't what she was expecting either.
"A squirrel?" Mr. Grannet heard himself clarifying.
"Yes," Malfoy looked as if he was attempting to nod but due to his injuries, he couldn't, "An extremely feisty, rare red squirrel. Scottish native I believe."
The way in which Miss. Weasley shifted in her seat and crossed her arms did not escape Grannet. Just as the scowl she shot Mr. Malfoy didn't either.
"Is that so?" he turned his attention back to Malfoy, "And how, pre tell, did a squirrel manage to do that to your face."
"Squirrels have claws sir, especially the rare red squirrels. In fact not only does it have ferocious claws, but it also has fangs. And surprisingly forceful tiny fists when it's really mad. Can crack right through a man's tooth. Or three."
Grannet was almost certain there was another meaning to the young man's words – especially seeing as Miss. Weasley let out a heavy sigh at the conclusion of his speech – but he hadn't a clue what it all meant. He suspected that not knowing was better than having certain suspicions (such as the possibility that the recently engaged couple had taken liberties with the interpretation of 'Hump Day') confirmed.
"And how did this squirrel get into the building?" Grannet quizzed the couple, clearly not believing the story Mr. Malfoy was feeding him.
"Through an entry point I assume."
"Mr. Malfoy…" he warned, patience wearing steadily thinner.
"Well I didn't discuss logistics with the squirrel prior to its mauling of my face, sir."
"I am in no mood for your whit Mr. Malfoy."
"Apologies sir, I meant no disrespect."
Miss. Weasley made a sound that he thought may have been a snort. Or maybe it was just a strange cough? She smiled sheepishly at him before diverting her attention back to the floor.
"So this squirrel that attacked you," Grannet looked between them with a speculative eyebrow raised – this was a blatant lie and he knew it, he just couldn't prove it, "I am assuming it was the size of a man, was it?"
Scorpius looked mildly confused from behind his bloody tissues.
"No…?"
Grannet internally smirked as the lie began to unravel.
"I'm trying to ascertain, Mr. Malfoy," he leant forward on his desk and looked between them slowly, "How a squirrel was the cause of Miss. Weasley's desk breaking?"
Miss. Weasley's face turned a particularly translucent shade of white, whilst Mr. Malfoy simply smiled again and attempted to nod vaguely.
"Yes, well, that too is the result of the squirrel. Indirectly."
Grannet smiled openly – he hadn't this much fun in years. He loved his job but politicians just weren't as slimy or creative as they used to be and that tended to make tings boring at times. But young Mr. Malfoy, pain in the ass or not, was most certainly creative in his lies and trickery. Grannet liked it – it made things interesting.
Mr. Grannet gestured for Mr. Malfoy to continue.
"Well, you see," Malfoy adjusted stiffly in his seat and conjured a few new tissues to add to the pile packed under his nose that were growing increasingly bloody, "The squirrel was clearly causing a ruckus, what with it's attacking me unprovoked and all."
Miss. Weasley let out an indignant snort and glared at Mr. Malfoy.
"During the battle –"
"With the rodent," Mr. Grannet interjected most helpfully. He took great delight in the way Mr. Malfoy faltered at the statement.
"I believe the squirrel is a mammal, sir."
Grannet smirked and clasped his hand together on his desk, "Indeed it is; subsection rodent."
Mr. Malfoy gave a tight-lipped grin in admission of defeat – 1 point to Grannet – whilst his fiancée merely smirked at him before growing serious once more.
"Yes, well, during this battle I had managed to force the creature from my person. It promptly ran around the office before jumping on Rose's desk," he placed his hand on Miss. Weasley's thigh momentarily before she pushed it off. They were acting very strangely – not very intimateat all for a couple that recently got engaged. However, this could be a deliberate attempt to mask their unbridled sexual tension in order for Grannet to believe their story in favour of the rather more likely situation that they had been using Miss. Weasley's desk for physical activities at the time of destruction. Well it was going to take a lot more than mild hostility to fool Bartholomew Grannet The Third. Mr. Malfoy continued.
"Then both of us attempted to stop the creature from wreaking any more havoc on the stunning surroundings of these fabulous offices – which you have personally kept in spectacular condition, by the way – by jumping on top of said rodent to seize its miniature fists of destruction," Mr. Malfoy remained eloquent and charming despite the tissues blocking a primary air supply; it was a talent to be admired, "And hence we both jumped on the desk to restrain it. With our combined weight, plus the added force of movement which has to be accounted for – and the squirrel of course – the desk, which was getting on in years I must say, simply broke beneath us."
Grannet nodded slowly, a smile threatening to break across his features. He looked between the two of them – Miss. Weasley was still avoiding eye contact with anything that wasn't the carpet – leaving a dramatic pause before questioning them further.
"And what happened to the squirrel?"
"The squirrel?"
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," Grannet let a few too many teeth show as he spoke – but it was most certainly not a smile, "This red-furred, furious squirrel you were so intent on capturing – do I need to call a cleaner to remove its remains from the desk-wreckage in Miss. Weasley's office?"
Mr. Malfoy let out a very polite, totally forced laugh that Grannet was sure pleased many clients.
"No, no – unfortunately the squirrel will live to fight another day as we failed to apprehend it."
"I see," Mr. Grannet nodded thoughtfully as he tried to decide whether or not to try and rip their story to shreds, or just accept it and move on. He didn't really want to hear about the shenanigans they were really getting up to (or just how, exactly, Mr. Malfoy's nose came to be in the state of disarray it currently was). So, to take pity on two of his best workers, Grannet decided to let sleeping dogs lie and simply accept the blatantly fabricated tale. However, accepting their story didn't mean they could get off without any sort of punishment.
"Well that is most unfortunate, especially considering the price of replacing the desk," he let the statement hang in the air for a moment. The unnaturally quiet Miss. Weasley opened her mouth to speak (and judging by the fire in her eyes, she was not impressed with the subtle suggestion). She didn't get a chance to respond, however, as Mr. Malfoy spoke up before she could utter a syllable.
"I would be happy to cover the cost of half the desk," he smiled brightly although Mr. Grannet could detect the slyness hiding behind it, "For it was my body weight which caused the break, I mean, considered the age and rather deteriorating state the desk was in, it was most unwise for me to land on it as hard as I did. I daresay a heavy box of parchments would have been all it required to break before – how well is it expected to hold up when faced with the weight of a fully grown man?"
Mr. Malfoy let his statement hang in the air in a similar manner to how Mr. Grannet had let his. The older man couldn't help but smile – Mr. Malfoy was abundantly arrogant, dangerously charismatic, deviously clever, and a general smartass most of the time, but damn he was a good negotiator. Grannet conceded with a nod, "Of course. Half and half is of course the logical option."
There was a silence that emanated throughout the room, only being broken by Mr. Malfoy's rearranging of tissues every now and then. Miss Weasley, looking increasingly uncomfortable by the second, smiled sweetly at Mr. Grannet with kind eyes that clearly wanted to get out of the office as soon as possible.
"Pardon me, sir," she said, most politely, "But is there anything further you wish to discuss? Because if there wasn't I do have some paper work that I need to-"
"There is something else, Miss. Weasley," he interrupted her as he shuffled a few totally irrelevant papers on his desk. He had really been avoiding having this conversation – Weasley and Malfoy were his best young team and worked tremendously well together. He wanted to keep them in this Department, as partners, because it was assured that while they were on a case, relationships would never become too strained, and they were usually able to get the outcome the Ministry wanted.
But rules were rules. And Bartholomew Grannet the Third did not hold the post of Head of Department for eight fruitful years by breaking or disregarding them.
So this conversation, and its obvious consequences, had to happen.
"Well as you know, inner-office relationships are not permitted," he watched the woman's face grow red and her eyes become angry. He empathized with her – no one was sadder to see the demise of the partnership than he was. But alas, rules must be followed. He continued, "As the two of you are clearly in a very serious relationship, I cannot permit you both to continue working here."
Miss. Weasley was about to retort – rather loudly by the look of it – but was cut off by her fiancée.
"That won't be a problem, sir," Mr. Malfoy interjected with a disconcerting wobble of his head (was it attached properly? Because that had not seemed normal). From what could be seen of the young man's eyes, they seemed to be growing more glazed over in the passing minutes.
Mr. Grannet was becoming confused. And he did detest being confused. "Excuse me?"
"There isn't a problem," that trademark smile was there again. Or at least it would have been, had tissues not been obstructing the view, "Rose and I both knew this was coming – you can expect my letter of resignation by the end of the week."
"What?!" the exclamation came from Miss. Weasley. Mr. Grannet had to admit his own thoughts mirrored hers.
"Don't sound surprised, dear, we've talked about this." Mr. Malfoy gave a companionable pat to his fiancée's leg – delicately missing her damaged knee – with the hand that wasn't occupied by holding tissues to his nose. He retracted his hand before Miss. Weasley could push it off once more.
Mr. Grannet recovered some composure and calm himself down (You knew this was coming Bartholomew, as soon as you saw the paper on Saturday you knew this was inevitable. Just take comfort in the fact you've still got Weasley), "You're planning to transfer to another department then I assume, Mr. Malfoy?"
There was something that flashed in the blonde-haired man's eye briefly before they became a little glazed over once more, "No. No, actually I'm leaving the Ministry. For good."
"Leaving the Ministry?" Mr. Grannet was outraged and embarrassingly panicked (if he left all together there was absolutely no hope of getting him back when Weasley inevitably left on Maternity Leave. This was simply devastating), "Completely cutting ties?"
"Yes, but may I request, if you don't mind sir, could we perhaps continue this conversation after I receive medical attention? I don't think…that is to say I feel a little…." Malfoy slumped a little further in his chair and seemed to be having difficulty holding his head fully upright. The hand that had been happily tapping his thigh at the commencement of the meeting was now lying limp on his lap where it only twitched every so often.
Mr. Grannet had the fleeting thought that perhaps seeking medical attention for the pair should have been a higher priority than convening the meeting. But he had been flustered after almost dying by way of ink stamp. Therefore he could not be held accountable.
Mr. Grannet rose and gestured to the floo in his office (he didn't like others using it, but considering an employee of his was currently struggling to remain conscious, he seemed it would be inappropriate not to offer it), which Mr. Malfoy managed to hobble to slowly and probably painfully. He disappeared a few moments later, safely on his way to St. Mungos.
Mr. Grannet turned to find Miss. Weasley still sitting in her chair, staring at his desk with a most puzzled look on her face. He took note of her knees, which had clearly taken a battering throughout the 'Squirrel Incident'.
"Miss. Weasley," she jumped when he said her name and turned to face him, "Do you also require medical assistance?"
Miss. Weasley looked confused before looking back at her knees.
"No," she said most unassertively, "No I…I'll be fine."
Grannet smiled (one less claim on work place safety – that was a win in his book).
"Did you have anything else you wished to discuss?"
Miss. Weasley seemed to contemplate that for a moment before shaking her head vaguely, standing and leaving his office without another word.
As he sat at his desk and prepared to ready himself for the day ahead before the office was a buzz with people, Mr. Bartholomew Grannet the Third sent a quick prayer to any and every divine being in existence that that conversation be the weirdest thing he had to endure today.
Rose left Mr. Grannet's office mulling over the events of the morning in her mind.
Firstly, her desk was broken. That wasn't good. She had a lot of valuable possessions and really…great…stuff tucked away in that desk, and now it was all littered across her floor in various states of togetherness ranging from 'mostly unharmed' to 'pulverized'. She was not looking forward to cleaning all of it up.
Her desk was broken because she had viciously (though not regretfully) assaulted Scorpius Malfoy atop of said desk. She may have broken his nose. And several of his teeth.
And he deserved every goddam blow the conniving bastard!
They had been photographed in a potentially compromising position, which people could misinterpret in a similar manner to that damn letter and Halloween Ball photograph. Then she'd thrown an ink stamp at the stupid reporter's head as he fled the office (coward!), which had almost hit her boss. Her boss who was not impressed with the state of her desk.
And despite him having every opportunity to tell Grannet exactly what had happened and how she had defended her honor quite aggressively, Scorpius had made up some bogus squirrel story. She could recognize that he was subtly mocking her in the process (rare red squirrel with claws – what an asshole), but that didn't change the fact that he didn't rat her out. In fact he told the lie and hence risked punishment on his behalf as well if the truth came out. He even offered to pay for half of her new desk.
Maybe he just did it so she couldn't get the opportunity to explain why she had attacked him, and hence unravel his evil plan, which seemed to revolve around making her life as miserable as possible. Yeah, that seemed entirely plausible.
So then why did he volunteer to leave? And not just hand over his position as her partner, but actually leave the Ministry?
The best thing about getting a job at the Ministry was security – once you were in, you were in. You could switch positions, departments, whatever. But once you were in the system they had you and, providing you did your job properly, there were plenty of opportunities to go forward and succeed and build a life for yourself. Both Rose and Scorpius had come through the coveted internship program straight out of Hogwarts and had managed to establish themselves in their years together as extremely capable despite their young ages. It wasn't easy working in international relations, but they had managed to make it, and by the age of 24 no less. That was kind of a big deal (even if no one who didn't work in international relations seemed to care, it was). And he was just going to throw it all away? Over some practical joke of his?
Commitment was one thing. Blind stupidity was another.
As she picked up some of the sheets of paper filled with insults and hexes, a very troubling thought came to the forefront of Rose's mind, forcing her to freeze mid-crouch.
What if he actually believes his own con?
What if Scorpius actually, truly believes that they are engaged, and hence leaving was unavoidable?
No.
Just. No.
Ok, she had always joked about it, but maybe Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was actually mentally insane and had created some alternate reality wherein him and Rose could actually be a couple? And those two separate realities had fractured his mind and now he didn't know which was which and was therefore living out his alternative reality fantasy life in actual reality?
No. That wasn't possible. Scorpius was an overgrown man-child with brat-like tendencies, but insane he was not. This all had to be part of his evil scheme. She just had to figure out how. She would do that later. You know, when she actually had a desk to work at.
As Rose went about putting her things back into some sort of order she couldn't shake a dark feeling at the pit of her stomach or the very slight ache that thrummed from at the very back of her mind. She knew their cause – reasons for doing so aside, Scorpius was leaving. They wouldn't be partners any more. The past week notwithstanding, they had always got on pretty well, and she had enjoyed his company. They worked well together, complemented each other's work styles perfectly, and now she would have to start working with someone else. As much as she tried to repress the voices from that deep dark place of her mind that often spoke without permission, she couldn't fully deny the fact that would miss having him for her partner.
But that didn't mean she wasn't going to kick his ass for putting this bloody ring on her finger. He was still going to pay for that. Just as soon as she figured out what the hell was going on.
Scorpius lay in a particularly uncomfortable hospital bed, his back mending from having random pieces of wood and splinters removed and his nose thankfully reset. The mediwitch had informed him that it would take a bit of time for all the swelling and bruising to go down, but it should be relatively back to normal in a few days. He had thanked her graciously and just as she was leaving, she turned on her heel and congratulated him on his engagement – she thought that it was just the most romantic thing ever and she wished them all the happiness in the world.
Well at least someone appreciated his efforts.
He had smiled with his newly reconstructed teeth and thanked her, telling her how excited they were about their impending nuptials. (Impending; he loved the ambiguity of the term). She had beamed back at him, sighed rather dramatically, and said again just how romantic it all was. She left shortly afterwards, insisting that he get some sleep to recover his strength and let the potions and spells 'do their thing'. Scorpius thought that was, perhaps, the best idea he'd heard all year.
Just as he was drifting into much-welcomed sleep, a very familiar voice sounded from beside his bed, sending terror through his very being.
"Well, well, well, had a run-in with your beloved, Mr. Malfoy?" Scorpius' eyes snapped open at the sound as he turned (with some difficulty) to look at his visitor, "Or should I call you nephew?"
Ginny Potter (nee Weasley) stood at his bedside, steaming coffee in one hand and arms crossed over her chest. She had a look in her eyes that he did not find comforting at all – that 'I could kill you and hide your body and no one would ever ask questions because I'm Ginny Fucking Potter' look. And suddenly, just like that, Scorpius came to recognize the enormity of the situation he had got himself into – not only had he angered Rosie, but he had angered her entire family of war-heroes who defeated the Dark Lord in their teenage years. They had literally saved the entire wizarding world while they went through puberty. And here he sat, temporarily paralyzed in a hospital bed, without his wand and therefore utterly defenseless.
Oh Fuck.
"Mrs. Potter," he said and gave her the nicest smile he could manage considering he felt like screaming for dear life, "How are you this fine morning?"
Ok so it's not the best chapter and I'm guessing it was a little anti-climactic. But it has stuff in it that needed to be put in. I think. Honestly I have very little direction for how the middle part of this story is gunna pan out, so you're all just gunna have to bear with me. Good news is that I have been writing a conversation between Scorpius and Rose for the next chapter (hopefully) and it's a lot more fun and enthusiastic. Rose gets vocal, Scorpius gets lawyer-y. Its gunna be a blast. And there will be a large section inspired by the song 'Kiss With a Fist' by Florence and the Machine. Yeah, fun times.
Please review – they truly do make my day
