Do you want me (dead)?
I let it ride on a bad bet
I doubled down on a sinking ship
I need a second to catch my breath
Do you want me
Or do you want me dead?
-All Time Low
"Hugh." I whispered, standing at the end of my little brother's bed, four nights later; my blanket was around my shoulders like a cape, one of my feet balancing my weight not on the floor but on top of a box labeled ambiguously M.T.R. Oh, Hugo. Would he ever unpack? Or was I forever destined to having my apartment look like a squatter's paradise?
Not the point, Rosie.
I forced myself to inhale, exhale, try to balance. I was here asking my little brother a question. Man up. I urged myself, and almost giggled at the absurdity of that phrase. And then I scolded myself on being that immature. My internal dialogue might be getting a little too intense.
"Hugo." I said a little louder, but I felt like I was voiding the sanctity of 3 AM. Hugo had woken me up every morning since he'd moved in, though. Surely I was granted one wake up for all of those times.
Besides, if I didn't discuss the Théo-Scorpius situation with someone, my head was going to explode.
I'd been thinking about the boys pretty much every day since Théo had kissed me, bought me a drink, and then slipped out of the club faster than I could keep track of. Théo remained the biggest asshole in the UK, but Scorpius at least still hovered in confusing middle ground, and I wasn't sure what Théo had been talking about at the club. It didn't help that he'd said things in French and my grasp of French was next to none (all of it taught to me by a brief obsession with Madeline as a little girl). And Hugh already knew they'd brought me in to St. Mungo's, and he wouldn't tell my parents, I didn't think, that I was friends with them. So he was the only choice. And I wanted to talk now.
"Hugh…" I reached out from my mobile blanket cave, my arm grabbing his ankle and shaking it a little.
"Grmph." Hugo murmured into his pillow. I took that as I'm awake, what do you want and bounded onto his bed/my couch, making the whole thing shift. Hugo turned over sleepily, and I crawled carefully to the side of the bed he wasn't occupying. I crawled to the top of the bed before I turned and sat, my back against the back of the couch, and shifted my covers again. Hugo made another incoherent noise of protest.
"Alright." I said after a second. "You awake?" I looked down at my brother; he cracked the only visible eye open (the other half of his face was pressed against the pillow) and blinked at me.
"Mulmp." He mumbled incoherently.
"Perfect." I beamed at him, patting his head. "So. Théo Zabini kissed me and I think he was implying that Scorpius likes me even though Scorpius is ignoring me." Hugo blinked up at me again. "And I am also ignoring him." I added after a moment, a last-second bid for self-respect. "Because we had a fight over whether I can take care of myself when I go clubbing. And we had a sort of break when I got splinched because he took me to the hospital."
Hugo blinked again, then pushed himself up. "What?" He mumbled as he sat back on his heels, rearranging his blanket around his shoulders. I exhaled sharply, blowing some hair out of my face.
"Théo Zabini kissed me and I think he meant—or implied something? There was a lot of French, I got confused—that Scorpius Malfoy liked me and he was kissing me because—" I paused, narrowing my eyes as I cocked my head to the side. "Alright, that doesn't make sense. I'm lost again." I shook my head once. "Nevermind—anyway, Théo kisses me and mentioned something about—Scorpius not ignoring me or something more significant than that and I wasn't sure what that meant—" I exhaled. "I thought it meant he liked me but now that doesn't make sense because if Scorpius likes me and Théo knows, then obviously, kissing me is a big no-no because those two are bros. Théo could have gotten revenge on me in like eighteen ways, none of the others involving kissing."
"Zabini kissed you?" He asked after a beat, rubbing his eye. I yawned widely, the nodded. "Woah." He murmured. I raised an eyebrow. "Um. Does he like you?"
"No—" I frowned at my brother. "Have you been listening?"
"Sort of." Hugo frowned at me. "You're not a great explainer." He looked at me unhappily, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Can I go back to sleep?"
"No." I said shortly with a frown. Hugo grumbled incoherently. "And I talked about Scorpius because Théo implied something about Scorpius maybe having feelings for me and after his whole song-and-dance when I got splinched, that's really possible." I countered. "But we're ignoring each other, so I can't mind-game it out of him because even my eternal skill at mind games cannot compete with nonpresence."
"Song and dance?" Hugo repeated, frowning, then yawned. "Scorpius dances?" I exhaled shortly.
"Can you listen to the words I am saying?" I demanded, scowling properly. Hugo stared unrepentantly at me. "I don't mean literally—I just mean, Scorpius was really—touchy feely when I got splinched." I narrowed my eyes a little at Hugo. "Like…he touched my hair. And held my hand. And—" I hesitated, looking away from Hugo. I touched the blanket that was draped over my legs, drawing my knees up to my chest and hugging them self-consciously. "And just cared a lot. And Scorp and I don't do that—we mess around and take each other home at night but—" I swallowed. "He kissed my cheek though…"
"Your stream of consciousness is a little bit difficult to follow." Hugo grumbled, his voice deep with sleep; I looked up at him, and he was watching me, all judgment vacant from his face. "But I am kind of getting the idea that Scorpius likes you."
"Right?" I said, a little loudly; Hugo winced. "Sorry—but seriously, isn't that crazy?" I stared at him. "Scorpius slept in his bed with me the night I was splinched—he just slept beside me. And I mean, we've done that before, but it's always been in a this is your side and that is my side kind of way. And I woke up in the middle of the night and his arm was around me." I stared at Hugo. "His arm was around me." I repeated emphatically, and Hugo raised his eyebrows. "But then he bounced out the next morning before I woke up. Like I was alone in his apartment."
"That's weird." Hugo said immediately.
"Yes. Thank you." I said, feeling wildly vindicated. Hugo was disturbingly good at girltalk.
"On a couple levels." Hugo agreed. "First off, he's an asshole, waking up in someone else's bed alone can't be fun." I grimaced. If only my brother knew how often I played that game. I'd left so many boys alone in my bed, this thing with Scorpius was just the universe trying to throw some karma around. "Second—it is weird that he left you in his apartment alone. Weird weird."
"No I'm in his apartment alone on a weekly basis." I said, flapping my hand at Hugo.
"What?" Hugo demanded, his eyebrows coming together confusedly.
"I know the locks to get into his apartment." I said, shrugging. "If we agree to meet up and he's not there, I just let myself in and wait for him."
"You have the locks to his apartment?" Hugo demanded incredulously. "Scorpius Malfoy gave you the locks to his apartment?" I nodded, uncertain of what Hugo was freaking out about. "Is this a thing he does with all his friends?" Hugo asked. I almost replied 'yes,' before my stomach dropped. I'd had to let Théo in to Scorpius's apartment the night of the argument.
Théo didn't have the locks.
I exhaled shortly, feeling uneasy. "No." I said slowly, realization in my voice. "No—just me." I blinked blearily at Hugo. "He only gave me the locks."
"Oh." Hugo said after a beat, making an uncertain face. I wrinkled my nose at him. "Hmm." He paused. "If I gave a girl the locks to our apartment, that would mean a lot. That said, I am not Scorpius Malfoy." He pulled a slightly unhappy face. "Rosie… Dad's gonna kill you."
"Shh." I mumbled. "I know."
"I mean, that was literally rule number one in our house. No Malfoys." Hugo mumbled. I smiled a little sadly at my little brother, my gaze meeting his miserably.
"I'm Rose Weasley, Hugh." I murmured. "Remember my motto? Leave no rule unbroken." Hugo groaned, flopping back down on the pullout bed. He stared at the ceiling as my gaze dropped to my knees, and I picked at the blanket for a few minutes in silence before Hugo finally sighed, speaking again.
"Before I go back to sleep," He murmured, "you should know that it sounds like Scorpius likes you, Rosie." He paused. "And it kind of sounds like you like him too."
"No. Shut up. No." I said irritably, grabbing Hugo's pillow out from under his head and lifting it only to bring it down in a hit to his shoulder. "Shh. No." Hugh held up his hands in defense as he bit out a tired laugh. I dropped the pillow onto his stomach, and he hugged it there; I glared at him. "No." I insisted again.
"How is Rose Weasley of the one million boyfriends nervous about liking a guy?" Hugo demanded sleepily; his eyes were already closing despite his new lack of pillow. "Walking contradiction." He closed his eyes now, turning his head to the side. He was almost asleep. I sighed, pushing myself up and crawling towards the edge of the bed; I knew as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed that Hugh was out of wisdom for the night. As I dragged my blanket-caped-self back towards my bedroom, I paused at the door.
"Remember," I whispered; Hugo cracked open one eye. "Don't tell Mum or Dad."
I needed a job.
This was the only thing I could think as I frowned at myself in the mirror in the dressing room I was in, two days later. I didn't have a top on because I'd been about to try on a dress that I was hoping to buy—when I'd seen the scar. It was dark pink and large and raw-looking, and wholly unattractive. And not the sort of thing that a model could have.
I touched it, wincing; it didn't hurt, but I couldn't really feel the scar, something that Mr. Creevy had assured me would go away eventually. He'd also assured me that give it six months, this scar would be less pink, less gross. Less of a problem. I could go back to modeling in a year, probably, with some wandwork covering up what remained of the scar.
In the meantime, unless I was willing to tap into my money from my grandparents—which I was not—I had to get a job.
I'd completed Hogwarts well. I had NEWTs in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Muggle Studies, Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. I certainly had the connections for jobs, though that wasn't really how I wanted to play this. It was weird; I didn't mind my name getting me in the door at parties, but the idea of getting hired because I was a Weasley—yes, one of THOSE Weasleys—was disgusting. I'd thought about getting a job after Hogwarts; at the time I'd looked at Gringotts, as a magical lock creator and tester. I'd liked it then; good salary, and I was good at Magical Cryptography and locks.
"But I'm not eighteen anymore." I murmured to myself in the mirror. "And no one wants to hire the twenty-year-old party girl with no job experience."
Part of this whole thought process was the fact that I had had nothing to do, basically, since I'd gone out with Archie and that had failed miserably. I didn't want to drive Albus to suicide by turning his apartment into my boytoy shop, so I didn't have random boys to go out with, and I wasn't talking to Scorpius or Théo. And I missed Scorpius. Boy, did I miss Scorpius.
Stop it, Rose. I was not Molly Gale or Sera Finnigan. I did not get a star-crossed lover or someone to hug me when I cried. I knew enough about myself to know that. Molly and Sera were appealing as people; I was appealing because I was gorgeous, because I drew no lines and had no standards. But no one wanted to bring me home to meet his mother.
And Scorpius was not the kind of boy who fell for girls.
"Miss Weasley?" The sales clerk said on the other side of the door; I glanced at the closed curtain. "I have to help another customer but just call and I'll be back, alright?"
"Of course." I said distractedly, sighing as I turned away from the mirror and pulled the dress from its hanger. I pulled it on, quickly slipping out of my jeans as I turned back to the mirror. I stepped out of my jeans and studied myself in the mirror; the dress was short and black with golden phoenix feather wings arching over my shoulders and down to my hips, where the tips of the wings shimmered magically, the shimmer continuing down to the hem of the dress, several inches above my thigh. The sleeves were long, down to my wrists, but tight to my arm. I smiled a little at my reflection. With the scar covered up, I looked exactly the same as always; perfect.
I pulled back the curtain and stepped out into the store; I looked around for my saleswoman and found her standing in front of a blond boy that I recognized all too well. Scorpius raised an eyebrow at me over the saleswoman's head, and I just met his gaze evenly. My heart fluttered my chest.
Pull it together, Rosie.
"You let just anyone in here, don't you?" Scorpius said, loud enough for me to hear; the words were directed at the saleswoman, but he was smirking.
"Apparently, Malfoy. You are here, after all." I countered, putting my hands on my hips. The saleswoman turned to glance at me, her eyes wide and panicked. She thought we were actually fighting.
"Ah, the Weasleys, always acting like Merlin's gift to the Wizarding World." Scorpius rolled his eyes, stepping around the sales girl. "Whatever did we do before you thought to grace us with your presence?"
"Wept all the time, I'm sure." I said shortly, stepping closer to Malfoy, so my chest and his were an inch apart; I let my voice drop to just above a whisper as I continued. "You left me in your bed." I breathed.
"You look none the worse for it, my dear." He murmured, his gaze sweeping down my form; I reached out, placing two fingers under his chin and pulling his face up so his eyes met mine, swirling darkly. What was he thinking?
"And then—as if that were not enough." I murmured. "Your lackey showed up while I was out with a boy who actually met all my requirements for fucking around with and fucked that up—"
"Théo takes care of his own business, Weaselbee." Scorpius murmured. "His vengeance on you is amusing to me, but not of my own—"
"And that would be why he kissed me, yes?" I countered lowly. Scorpius fell silent mid-sentence, his mouth open still, his eyes sharp, suddenly, his face hard. I nodded. "I figured he wouldn't tell you." I muttered, shaking my head. "I can't believe you two, okay? It is one thing to be careless with your own lives and your own selves, but your carelessness is starting to fuck with me. You left me in your bed and haven't spoken to me since—" Scorpius sighed shortly, a flush coloring his cheeks, "and Théo ruined my night with Archie." I glared at him. "Stop it."
"Like you are any less careless than us." Scorpius scoffed, scowling darkly at me. I glared back up at him, and after a moment, he exhaled, stepping back and turning away, running his hand over his perfectly-combed hair. "Merlin, Rose, the things you do to me." He said lowly. I swallowed, feeling confused. I wasn't less careless than Scorpius or Théo, but I wasn't more careless, either, and that deserved points, didn't it? And what was Scorpius talking about?
Scorpius looked back down at me, studying me tiredly. I felt my own face melt under his gaze; the hard lines of his face faded too, as his eyes bored into mine. We softened each other and brought out the worst in each other. We would never work, I tried to tell the part of my brain that I refused to even admit the existence of. Scorpius's stance changed, suddenly, as he squared up to me, facing this problem head on. "Why did you think Théo wouldn't tell me?" He asked after a beat.
"What?" I asked after a beat; if I'd had to say what I had thought Scorpius was about to say, that would not have been it.
"You said you didn't think Théo would tell me that he kissed you." Scorpius said shortly. "Why?" I held my breath. I didn't want to answer this question, because the conversation that would inevitably follow it would go downhill, would spin and twirl it's way into a disaster that would ruin everything. So I offered Scorpius my default distraction.
"You look like you could use a drink." I murmured. Scorpius sighed.
"You have no idea." The darkness, the emotion, stopped weighing so heavily on his features. "My apartment?"
"Merlin bless you."
"Malfoy."
"I know."
"Mate."
"Go to hell, Théo." I was awoken by the charming sound of my boys arguing, the next morning. Scorpius and I had gotten drunk at his apartment the night before, and, apparently, passed out, because this threadcount was not for my bed.
"She's in your bed." Théo's voice was dark.
"Shut up." Scorpius's matched his in tone.
"You can't just have her in your bed, mate. Not anymore." I recognized these words should mean something to me, but my sleep had left me still confused as to what was going on above my head.
"I know that." Scorpius sounded exhausted.
"Then what is she doing in your bed?"
"Sleeping off the McCallan 12 single malt we drank last night."
"You got drunk with her?"
"Alright, I exercised an immense amount of bad judgment last night, thank you for your commentary." Scorpius said irritably; I felt a hand on my shoulder, Scorpius's fingers curling around my arm. "Gotta get up, babe." He murmured beside my head; I opened my eyes to blink blearily at him.
"Sleeping." I murmured unhappily.
"Weasley." He said firmly.
"Malfoy." I mimicked as he slid into focus. "I feel like shit." I muttered after a second, as the world spun around the blond boy crouching beside me.
"Welcome to the club." Malfoy murmured. "We polished off a shit load of single malt last night."
"Blargh." I flipped onto my back. "I'm always hungover from whiskey."
"I think that's what the single malt is code for." Scorpius murmured. "I'm sure there's an asterisk somewhere on that bottle: single malt means will leave you shit-faced." He sank down on the bed and I inched over as he flopped down beside me, side to side. He put an arm over his eyes and I lifted my head as he slid his arm under my head. I curled into his side, closing my eyes as the headache pounding in my skull softened slightly; I turned my face into his chest, inhaling.
"Rose." Scorpius groaned softly; I put a hand on his chest, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I lifted my face to smile a little manipulatively at him. "Stop." He murmured, his voice resigned and desperate.
"What if I can't?" I asked huskily. Scorpius's unhappy eyes filled with something else that I couldn't identify. I forced my blue eyes to hold his gray gaze despite the panic seizing my stomach, my lungs as my smile faded; I wanted to run away so badly. Stay, Rose. I ordered myself. I let myself run from everyone but Scorpius. I had to be honest with someone, didn't I?
"Can't you?" He murmured. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch up into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Can I?" I breathed. Scorpius stared at me and I stared back. For a terrifying moment, I thought we might remain like this forever, the silence pressing into the bottoms of my lungs until it dried and froze like cement. And then Théo spoke.
"The mudblood is going to stain your sheets." Théo murmured; I looked up at him with a charming smile, forcing the silence away, forcing any feeling back. Scorpius will fuck with you and run away, Rose, you know that.
"The little prince sounds jealous." I murmured. "Théo, dear, do you wish you were the one staining Scorpius's sheets? Because he hasn't gotten much tail recently, and I'm sure he'd be more flexible now—" Scorpius shoved me off of him.
"It's not like you're the one staining Scorpius's sheets." Théo smirked, and I prepared myself for whatever grenade he was about to press into my hand; he looked far too smug for his next sentence to be anything but cruel. "No, dear, that would be Miss Goyle."
Dizziness swamped me as I stared up at Théo, my smile fading a little. I sat up, turning to look at Scorpius; he was watching me passively, his face completely blank. For the love of God. Sometimes I could read him like a book, and sometimes he was slightly more secretive than a goddamned ninja.
"We went to her mum's gala together yesterday." Scorpius offered. I nodded, keeping the half a smile I could retain in place.
"Your father must be so pleased." I said after a beat to Scorpius, staring at him.
"He is." Scorpius said levelly. I stared at Scorpius. He didn't sound regretful; he didn't sound tired or sad or sorry. I didn't understand. He'd gone to bat for me with his dad—that meant something—but was now sitting here—the night after we get drunk together, the night after I spend the night in his bed again—telling me he was dating Celia Goyle. Théo's words from just a moment ago echoed in my head: "You can't just have her in your bed, mate. Not anymore."
I faced forward, looking down at the sheet covering my legs. I was a damned idiot. Stupid Rose. I knew this wasn't going to work out—that Scorpius was not this boy who had feelings for a Weasley, that Scorpius would not change, especially not for a girl that behaved exactly like him. I realized, in a painful breath, that I definitely liked Scorpius. And I had done this to myself.
"Probably wouldn't be great if she found me in your bed, huh." I said after a beat, my voice a little hollow. If Scorpius heard the tone, he didn't say anything.
"Probably not." Scorpius admitted. I slid sideways on the bed, turning so my legs swung off it. I slid off the bed and stepped easily across the room to where I'd left my shoes; I slipped my feet into the high heels easily. I glanced around and Théo had crossed to behind me, and was holding out my purse. I took it from a little too quickly, and left Scorpius's bedroom at the same, not-quite-casual pace. Théo followed me—I heard his shoes against the hardwood floor—to the door; he put his hand on the door above my shoulder, making it impossible to open, and I spun to face him, forcing an alluring half-smile as I reached up to finger the opening in his shirt, running my thumb over the first shut button.
"Want some of your own fun now that your best friend's getting some?" I asked lowly; somewhere, I knew this was the wrong way to handle this, that Théo's expression was far too dark for this to be a healthy reaction for me to be having, but I wasn't sure what else to do. I liked Scorpius. Scorpius is dating Celia.
Fuckety fuck fuck.
"The other night," Théo murmured to me in all seriousness. "This was not what I meant to happen." I felt all the allure fade from my smile as it became sad. "He is doing this wrong."
"Or maybe you were wrong." I said after a beat, my voice barely above a whisper; if Scorpius heard my next sentence, I was chalking this up to the worst day ever and jumping out a window. "Don't feel too bad about it. I was wrong too." I did a little half-chuckle, my throat burning. "I spent last night in his bed, for the love of God." I turned away, trying the door again. Théo's hand fell behind me, and the door opened easily; I slipped outside, away from the boys.
Scorpius and fucking Celia.
Two hours later, I stood before my uncle Bill, who was watching me perplexedly, scratching at one of his graying temples.
"You want a job?" He said after a beat.
"Yes sir." I said quietly. He eyed me uncertainly.
"Really?" He asked after a second. I raised an eyebrow at him. He snickered. "Jeez, you look like Ginny when you do that." I offered him a smile. I had to be polite. I really needed this job. It had been hard enough to sit around my apartment missing Scorpius before I found out he was dating Celia. Now, I knew if I didn't wake up tomorrow morning with a place to go, it would kill me.
There was another, more honest part of myself that knew there was another reason I was doing this. Crazy Rose, Rose who never slept and always drank and never woke up in the same bed twice (except for Scorpius) had lost the boy she liked. So I was going to change, fix things, and make a new Rose. One who got her shit together and got the boy she liked because the boys wanted her.
Who needs self-esteem? Not I.
"I mean, Rose…" He sighed, studying me doubtfully. I held my breath, praying that Bill would be too reluctant to confess to his little brother that he wouldn't hire his daughter to not hire me. "Do you have any job experience?" He asked, and I beamed at him.
"No." I admitted, a little sheepishly; Bill winced, running his hand down his face; I rushed on, lest I lose my audience before I enchant him. I wasn't sure how to, though—my usual methods would be inappropriate to a factor of a million with a man I was related to. "But I got NEWTS in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Herbology, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures…"
"Yeah, you'd be well-qualified if you were eighteen." Bill agreed readily, sitting down in the large chair behind his desk; he leaned back in it, folding one leg so his ankle rested on the other leg's knee. He moved the résumé in front of him to his lap. "Your résumé is ludicrous, Rose."
"I made it sixth year with Uncle Neville." I said, still smiling. My dad always fell for this smile; I'd seen Victoire's work on her father. I just had to channel Vicky. "Can't blame me."
"But just entering the job market at twenty with your résumé from school doesn't look great, kid." Bill said frankly, glancing up at me.
"I know." I said, then smiled impishly. "So I came to my very favorite uncle rather than some mean stranger to beg for an entry-level position."
"Rosie Posie…" Bill's voice trailed off. "You really want this?" He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, studying me. He really wanted me to say no. Sorry, Bill.
"Yes." I said determinedly. Bill looked at me tiredly, his narrowed eyes fading to defeated ones. He didn't want to say yes, but he couldn't say no.
"If I hire you, you have to show up, every week day at eight AM, alright?" Bill said firmly. "You can't miss or come in hung-over or anything—"
"Bill-!" I flushed as I frowned at him.
"I read the tabloids, sweetheart." Bill said sympathetically. I ran a hand through my hair. "And while I have faith in you, I also know that as my niece, you have given my little brother many a headache—" He shook his head. "I can't hire you if you're not going to do the work." He pressed his lips together. "Especially when I know you are capable of the work." I felt a twist of discomfort; what if I'm not? I was Hermione Granger's daughter in blood only. Please don't expect anything of me. I just need money and the ability to consider myself not completely fucked over by Scorpius Malfoy.
"I am absolutely going to do the work." I said firmly. Bill exhaled, blowing some of his hair off his forehead. "I'll be here early and late." I grinned. "I can come in with Hugo in the mornings. He lives with me now, you know. I have to wake him up for work every morning—which, incidentally, has taught me responsibility—"
"Alright, kiddo, you have to job." Bill rolled his eyes. "Seven AM to five PM, alright? Monday through Thursday. You'll be on a response team—basically, you have to go unlock doors that little kids have locked themselves behind. Pays 2700 galleons a year—not much, but longer, harder you work, you'll get a raise." He looked at me, and smiled a little. "I'm proud of you, Rosie, getting your act together." He grinned. "Ron is gonna be so pleased with you."
"I was hoping you wouldn't tell him. Or Mum. Or really anyone." I chewed on my lip self-consciously. "I need you not to tell anyone." Bill frowned. "Just—I—I need to make sure that I don't fail. In like a month, we can pull that off."
"Sounds fair." Bill said easily, nodding once.
"Alright." I grinned uncertainly at Bill. "See you tomorrow?"
"Sounds good." I ducked out of my uncle's office, turning down the hallway as I started towards the elevators.
New Rose did not need Scorpius. She had a job.
SPECIAL THANKS TO my lovely reviewers who give me drive/hope/procrastinating skills. Who hasn't done her AP French homework? This one. Who is no longer interested in reading another page about the Bay of Pigs? Meeeee. Rose and Scorpius are written in every corner of my physics notebook, something that had a curiously helpful effect on a test I took today. So obviously, fan fiction is da best.
Shoutouts:
Firemaker
TheInnerMusingsofMe
NotADreamYetNotANightmare
Diane Potter
SophieDe
HungaryMama
Roseweasley85
Ty
Allen Pitt
Frostykitten
Truehpfan94
InLovewithLove16
French Vanilla Cloud
