Interlude: Rose

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A/N: Well, majority rules so here's the Rose interlude. Even though I haven't been in school in quite a while, I honestly think that sometimes school is just as bad or worse than out here in the 'real' world…

"Your father seriously needs to cut his beard. He's starting to look like he should be hunting for his own food and writing the Death Eater manifesto from a cabin in the woods." I say to Scorpius as I skim through another one of the Daily Prophet's articles on Mr. Malfoy.

Al, Scorpius and I are sitting in the empty Great Hall and looking out the windows at the old oak tree in front of the lake. It's Sunday and there's a terrible stillness to the school that only Sundays could evoke. There's a heat wave in England this spring and we all wear a light sheen of sweat making us glisten like we're painted with a clear top coat. We wanted to go outside, but Scorpius' complexion gives him only two options: be reddened like a lobster or stay inside. Besides, everyone else was outside and that was not where he wanted to be.

Scorpius and Al were in an intense and convoluted conversation about international Quidditch before I interrupted them with my opinion on Mr. Malfoy's grooming habits and reminded Scorpius of his father's existence. Needless to say, he is not pleased.

"You know, everything that's been going on right now," he gives an upward nod to the headline: Former Wizen Says Draco Malfoy Made Deal to Escape Azkaban Early; Trying to Get Same Deal For Father, "can be traced back to you somehow."

"How on earth did you come to that conclusion?" I almost scream at him.

"You're to blame because it was you that invited Father to Boxing Day lunch in the first place." His voice is very calm, but cold. I can't remember the last time I saw him smile, genuinely, that is. He's getting thinner; the angles on his face sharpening and his eyes looking perpetually steely. Despite the collective hatred the school has for him, I know that there are more than a few girls who harbour secret crushes on him. Shamefully, I think my cousin Lily has fallen into this group. He pays them no mind. More than ever has he earned his nickname of Iron Dolly. And that's another thing. He gets the nickname 'Iron Dolly' and I get 'Froggy'? I suppose 'Smartest Witch of Her Age' is too long and already taken by Mum. Life is so unfair!

"You got them talking to each other." He accuses. "If it weren't for you he would've never have been using his friendship with Mrs. Weasley like this."

"Friendship? Do they even talk to each other?" Al asks. "I mean, there've been no pictures of them even being in the same space together since Rose's birthday."

"Exactly!"

Al and I exchange looks before Al tentatively asks, "Exactly what?"

"Father's not stupid. He knows what everyone would say if he were suddenly to become friends with Mrs. Weasley. They'd say that he planned this whole thing and that somehow he got her to agree to his plans, most likely under duress."

"But they're saying that anyway," Al reminds him.

"True, but they have no confirmation of it. It's hard for them to get any kind of evidence if there's no proof that Father and Mrs. Weasley are even talking to each other."

"So…you think that your Dad and my Aunty are talking to each other and this whole thing is one big conspiracy for him to get your grandfather out of prison?"

"Yes."

"Uh huh," Al gives me a look to mean that he thinks Scorpius has gone off the deep end. There's an awkward silence that poor Al tries to break with, "Can't you do something about this heat?"

I look around at the prefect that's sitting at the Ravenclaw table, her eyes in a book. I turn back around and conjure a mini cyclone with a cooling charm. The breeze feels so good.

"Froggy, sometimes you really live up to your other nickname." Scorpius says with genuine praise. Sometimes he really can be nice.

"Well, all you have to do is swish your arms like this and then pull it down counter-clockwise after –"

They pretend to fall asleep, even making loud snoring sounds.

"Really? Really? That's what we're doing now?"

"Sorry, how long was I out?" Scorpius wipes his fake drool and Al rubs the fake sleep out of his eye.

"Sorry Rosie, it's just every time you start to educate us, you know what happens."

"You two are fools."

They smile indulgently at me, well Scorpius smirks or something like it. Ever since the incident at Mr. Malfoy's house the two of them have been…nicer to each other, even laughing at each other's jokes. Scorpius has been less of a git to Al. It's still a bit shaky because every now and then Scorpius would lash out at Al if he gets too comfortable. He's maintaining a distance with Al, but the distance is clearly shortening. I huff at them and raise the newspaper in front of my face to block them out, but that was a bad move. It only served to remind Scorpius that he was on the rant of a madman. Luckily, Al tries to rescue me again.

"You coming to the game this weekend?"

I pull the papers down a bit. Scorpius smirks at Al and starts to tease him about the game. I can't believe that distraction worked. Apparently the boy has the attention span of a goldfish.

"Potter, Gryffindor might actually have a chance to win this year now that I've been banned from playing Quidditch because of Father suddenly wanting to do the right thing and Rose being a sell-out."

"Well, at least half of what you said is true," I mutter, but he hears me. Before he can retort Al steps in with,

"Don't make it sound like that. Slytherin won the House Cup last year. Big deal. If I had scored one more goal…" Scorpius snorts at this. Al ignores him. "But you do know that if Slytherin wins this game, you might not get called back as Seeker or to any position, right?"

A shadow passes over Scorpius' face and I can see that he had not even considered that thought. Like he needs that right now. Us and Quidditch is all he's got.

Al realizes his mistake and tries to backtrack.

"What I meant –"

"Forget about it."

"Scorpius –"

Al gets a look of such deepest disgust that his words die in his throat and he kind of sinks into himself.

"Scorpius, you are such an arse." I shake my head at him.

"What did I do?" He honestly asks in confusion.

"Rose –"

"Look Froggie, it doesn't matter. Potter's their best Chaser. He'll probably win the game single-handedly for Gryffindor."

Al looks confused. I imagine I must be mirroring the same look. Did Scorpius just give Al a compliment? The two of us sit there in a stunned silence while Scorpius looks uncomfortable. I open my mouth to say something, anything when we hear something like snickering. We all turn around to see a group of Slytherin boys from his year at the entrance of the Great Hall.

It's so strange and amazing to see Scorpius change from bumbling and awkward teenager to someone whose eyes contain a hatred of burning suns that could melt away skin and dry the tears in your eyes. The Slytherins try to return the look, but fail. They leave eventually, but the scowl remains on his face.

"What was that about?" I ask him.

"Quidditch stuff." He lies and takes the papers from me.

"But they're not even on the Quidditch team."

Sometimes I wish Al would learn when to keep his mouth shut. The look Scorpius gives him…

The upcoming Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor (yes, Slytherin made the finals without Scorpius forcing him to reconsider his purpose in life) has heightened the state of anger in the school. Fights break out all the time and can be traced to either a Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry or just plain hating on Scorpius rivalry. The situation has reached a bit of a boiling point and the students have progressed from sly looks to dirty words to shoving to throwing hexes that are not limited to Scorpius alone. Al and I are now guilty by association. Our friendship with him apparently means that we are supporters of Death Eaters and their ideology. The Slytherins attack us because clearly we are in support of prats that carelessly throws away Quidditch games by getting punished over the holidays. The prefects were ordered to keep an eye on us, but luckily we have the entire Weasley and Potter brood also looking out for us. The school's a bit afraid to touch Al and James for fear that Harry Potter would descend upon Hogwarts and unleash his wrath. I laughed out loud at that because I didn't think that Uncle Harry had wrath. James informed me that yes, he did. However, while Uncle Harry had supposed wrath, Scorpius has a simmering anger, boiling his blood. Any moment now I know that he will explode from all the pressure.

It doesn't take long for him to get back to his theory on why his father is the devil incarnate. Al nods sympathetically and generally tries to make himself less of a nuisance. I don't need to respond because he's practically soliloquizing now and also, I think he might have a point.

Yes, there have been no reports of Mum or Mr. Malfoy having any sort of contact with each other, but I highly suspect that they have been talking and the proof is in the correspondence – Mum's letters to me have a slight change of…direction. Yes, she used to inquire after Scorpius and give him words of encouragement through my letters that she hoped would eventually reach his ears, but now, now she was going into details about her sixth year in Hogwarts and how hard Mr. Malfoy had to suffer. The entire story was written in the conditional – 'if I were Malfoy, I too would have been terrified and I too would think that I had no other choice'. It was like watching dementia happen in real time on two feet of parchment. What was going on? Why was this happening?

There are other little signs, but the point is that something is going on. Mum and Mr. Malfoy have been corresponding for the least and for the most, may have become friends. According to Scorpius, it's a conspiracy on the part of his father.

"During the Christmas holidays," he's telling us, "I overheard Father and Uncle Blaise talking. Father was telling Uncle that he saw Mrs. Weasley at King's Cross and how Rose," cue look of naked hatred from him, "invited us to lunch on Boxing Day. Then Uncle Blaise told Father that he should take hold of the opportunity to get to know Mrs. Weasley because she is on the Wizengamot and could be influential in helping out my grandfather."

"What did your father say? Did he agree to the idea?" Al asks.

"He didn't say anything, but I can tell that he was thinking about it."

"Even if that's true, Mum would never fall for it and Mr. Malfoy would never try it." He looks at me with defiance. "Also, there is no reason for the two of them to want to be friends."

"I'm telling you, he'll try to use her. Believe it or not he can be quite charming when he wants to be. You're already on his side. He talked to you nicely in the hospital, brought you charmed flowers, made an exception to come to your birthday party and bought you a really thoughtful gift. Admit it; you're already in his corner. I've heard you – 'I'm sure that your father isn't that bad; you should give him a chance.' They didn't used to call him the Prince of Slytherin for nothing, Rose. I'm telling you that he's using Mrs. Weasley and nothing good can come of it."

I don't argue with him and I suppose that uncharacteristic response or my expression must have said something because he looks at me shrewdly. But then Al jokes with,

"Of course Aunty and Mr. Malfoy could never be friends. It would be a most unholy alliance. The collision of the two heretofore never-to-be-united entities have gone against the natural order of the universe and the result of this calamitous union are most calamitous consequences that are equivalent to the plagues of pestilence and fire and brimstone. The sun would fall out of the sky. Cats and dogs would cohabitate and there would be the death of hope."

I burst out laughing and even Scorpius laughed out loud as well. Al used his 'crazy preacher' voice and we spend the next few minutes laughing away at the crazy preacher we always see at King's Cross who speaks of the end of the world when witches and wizards would rise up and take over and blah blah blah.

Our argument is laid aside for the time being, but I know it is not forgotten. Scorpius gives me shrewd looks for the next week, trying to subtly weaken me so that I'd eventually break down and tell him what was on my mind, but I can't do it. I can't admit that I think he might be right and that Mr. Malfoy is manipulating Mum. I don't have any definitive proof, so I make no definitive judgements.

The game is already an hour late.

"I hear they've had an accident." A fourth year behind me says.

"Accident? I know what that's code to mean: a fight." His friend says.

"Yep. They got into it and now they're probably getting stitched up by Madame Pompfrey and suffering her wrath too. Oh look, they're coming out."

Madame Hooch makes the two captains shake hands and they both try to surreptitiously crush each other's hands and burn each other to ashes using only the power of their gazes. It doesn't work. The only person who has true potential to do that is Scorpius who is…missing. I look around the stands. Where is he?

I'm sitting with a bunch of other boys from my year and for the last hour all I heard was talk about Quidditch. It washed over me until my eyes glazed over like I had a nictitating membrane. No wonder I didn't notice if he was missing as I was busy thinking up ways to maim myself; any excuse to get away from this conversational torture. But when the game starts everyone around me sits up rigid with excitement, their lungs screaming out in pleasure; their eyes opened wide in an attempt to not miss any possibly riveting action. Everyone is like that except Lily and a group of her friends. She is sitting a few rows in front of me and looking over at the Slytherin stands in confusion; she and her girlfriends looking a bit disappointed. I look over and realize the cause of their teenage distress – their fancy – Scorpius has still failed to show up. And this is very much a surprise. As much as Scorpius had become the school pariah, I know that he would risk life and limb to come see this match.

Al zooms close to me on his broom causing the crowd to duck and shriek in fear and excitement. He gives me a questioning look and I shrug in reply to his question. I have no idea where Scorpius could be.

I wonder if he was involved in another fight…

Today of all days, Al's scoring sucks!

The Seventh-year Gryffindor captain had to call a time-out and give Al a motivating speech in the form of two clouts to the back of his head.

Quietly and slightly limping, I see Scorpius enter the stands.

Al clambers back onto his broom and eventually scores a few more goals.

I can see Scorpius sitting in the front row (I supposed he still had some sort of power in Slytherin for the first years that were in those seats parted for him like they were the red sea), his expression hard like concrete and his face nearing the colour of it. I suppose he has a lot riding on this game. If Slytherin lost they would blame him, especially if they lost because their Seeker failed to catch the Snitch in time. If they won, especially if their new Seeker caught the Snitch in time, they would question his original purpose on the team and he might not be invited to play next year.

To be shunned by everyone . . . I know he can barely stand it.

The Seekers have spotted the Snitch. If Slytherin catches the snitch, that's it, the game would be over. But Gryffindor needs not just to catch the Snitch, but we also needed one more point or else catching that Snitch would be moot. Al is in line for a shot. Our Seeker has his fingers inches away from the Snitch. Everyone is on the edge of their seats, even me. The crowd is going insane with the excitement. Even I'm shouting for Al to make that shot and I chance a look over at Scorpius and he looks like he just found out his mother died all over again. His face is white. I see Al look over at him. I see Al take the shot. I see Al miss purposely. I see us catch the Snitch but it's not enough and I see Al becoming the most hated person in Gryffindor.

Slytherins. The disloyal, fickle-minded, two-faced, opportunistic brats that they are have forgotten all about how they treated Scorpius for the last three months and are now embracing him like they just remembered that he's one of their own, begging him to come play Quidditch for them next season. He never takes his eyes off of Al who by now has to have the Headmistress escort him off the pitch with her own shield spell. Al has his head held up bravely, but he might as well be holding a bag with thirty pieces of silver. I look over at Scorpius. I hope that he never forgets this one moment of friendship. I get up with the rest of the dejected Gryffindors while James collects on his bets. People have lost a lot of money.

Sometime after eleven when the common room quiets down because everyone who isn't a Potter or a Weasley left, Al resurrects himself from his room. He looks horrible and all the questions that everyone wants to ask him die in their throats. "I…I'm sorry, guys." We all avert our eyes and mumble vague clichés like "it happens to the best of us," and "you win some, you lose some." In an attempt to elevate the mood, Roxie suggests that we sneak down to the kitchen and nick some food. We welcome the distraction.

We are in front of the great oak doors when we unexpectedly run into a group of Slytherins, the same group of boys that Scorpius had his staring match with the other day. They had been partying and their win has made them bolder and their prefects clearly more lax, as not a one of them are in sight. A disaster is inevitable.

Hasty McHaste, also known as Stupid James Potter, throws the first hex. A calamity follows after that. A number of Slytherins come out from who knows where displaying the sort of support and loyalty that I had no idea they were capable of without turning to stone. The only advantage we have is that our parents are war veterans and found it in our best interest to teach us a wide variety of hexes and defences against hexes and curses.

Lily's Bat Bogey hex is vicious and Hugo's hex to make people vomit slugs is most impressive. Dad taught him that one. Things take a turn for the worse when the Slytherins decided to mix magic with brute force. The punch that Al receives to this face surely broke his nose and sends him flying back against the wall. The perpetrator is swinging back for another hit. I raise my wand to protect him when Scorpius Malfoy blocks the intended punch not with a shield spell, but with his own fist to the young wizard's face. I'm sure that he broke that boy's nose and possibly some teeth.

"What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?" The boy asks; his voice muffled.

I see the look in Scorpius' eyes change. It's the look that he's been wearing all year; the one where he looks like he's this close to jumping over the desk and beating and/or hexing someone into the wall.

"Aww, he's protecting his f–" The idiot doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence before Scorpius is punching him again.

"Scorpius," Al croaks out and puts his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. He's shrugged off violently and Al looks up in confused surprise. They stand there for a second just staring at each other, Scorpius breathing hard like a monster, Al looking bewildered.

"Scor –"

"Bugger off, Potter!"

Al is confused, but then he too sees the look in Scorpius' eyes and he knows that whatever moment they had, whatever debt Scorpius owed; they're all forgotten. I'm grateful for when the teachers and the prefects come in to stop this madness. I don't want to see what Scorpius would do. I don't want to see him fail not just as a friend, but as a person.

Detentions for the rest of the term! I would get no free time in the evenings to study! I HATE QUIDDITCH! It all leads back to Quidditch and stupid Scorpius Malfoy. I am positive that I can adequately explain with logic and a flow chart why this is his entire fault. He's sitting nearest to the door and I purposely choose a seat farthest from him. Neither Al nor I have spoken to him since last night's incident and I have no intention of speaking to him any time soon. I don't care if he saved Al from getting an impromptu reconstructive surgery. I saw in his eyes that he was about to give him up for slaughter.

"No, it all leads back to you." All says to me as we (the entire Potter and Weasley clan plus Scorpius) sit outside the Headmistress' office while our parents are inside probably discussing more ways to best punish us. I don't know why they insist on torturing us this way. We already received our punishment from the Headmistress. Do we really need to sit and stew in nerves and worry?

"Ex-CUSE-me?" He doesn't shrink away from my glare.

"If you never spoke to Scorpius on the train almost two years ago, this would never have happened. I told you to stay away from him."

"Not once have you told me that."

"It was implied."

"A lot of things are implied with you, aren't they?" I mumble.

Mum and Uncle Harry look furious while Dad looks slightly amused. I swear I see Aunt Ginny give Lily a subtle pat on the back for her Bat Bogey hex while she was lecturing her. I can see Mr. Malfoy cautiously approach his son and lead him away from us and down the corridor. Mum is furiously lecturing Hugo and me on the virtues of knowing when to walk away, while Dad nods in tandem with her words, an incongruous smug grin on his face. She turns on her heels and we are expected to follow her so that we could keep up with her diatribe. Walking down the hall she literally runs into Professor Flitwick and he beams up at her like she didn't nearly run him over. Mum and Dad stop to talk to Professor Flitwick and Hugo tries to skulk off from the tongue-lashing he knows will continue as soon as Mum finishes her unexpected social call.

I lean against the wall and I hear faintly two voices that sound familiar. I look into a door left ajar and see Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius are there. Mr. Malfoy is leaning against a desk with his arms folded, his head down as he inspects his shoes I assume and Scorpius is most likely unconsciously, mirroring this exact stance.

"I know that you're angry with me and I know why you're upset with me…" Mr. Malfoy says. He's speaking haltingly, his drawl slow like molasses on a cigarette break. "I know that you blame me for your mother's…" He stops here, unable to finish the word, "…and I'll accept your blame, but son . . . I can't . . . I can't . . . I need to know what's going on with you. Your Professors have said that you're moodier than usual; distant. McGonagall says that you have a very…interesting…dynamic with Rose Weasley and her cousin."

Scorpius' head snaps up and his father's too. "What did she say?"

Mr. Malfoy looks at his son, studying him and wondering where in his last sentence lay the key to a response.

"She said that your Slytherin counterparts are giving you grief over your friendship with them, especially . . . She said that you get into a lot of rows defending your friendship with those two."

Well colour me surprised. Scorpius has no defence for this accusation of loyalty, so like a true Slytherin, he misdirects by answering an unasked question.

"You're using Mrs. Weasley."

"What?"

"I know what you're doing. You're using her to get Grandfather out of prison. You don't like her. You don't want anything to do with her or the Weasleys. You haven't changed. You don't even want to talk to Teddy and he's our family, but you're chatting it up with Mrs. Weasley. You're a hypocrite!"

Mr. Malfoy only supports Scorpius' point when he has to stop and think of who exactly is this Teddy person. When recognition hits he gives his son a hard stare and Scorpius seems to shrink into himself expecting a reprimand, but none is coming. I get a sick feeling in my stomach because I don't hear Mr. Malfoy deny the claim. Instead like a true Slytherin he misdirects and he says,

"Are you feeling a pressure to push them away?" Scorpius avoids his gaze. "But you don't want to do that because they're not that bad, are they? They're being very good friends to you, aren't they? If you push them away, you won't have anyone else, will you? Well, you won't have anyone you'd consider a true friend, would you?"

Scorpius doesn't answer immediately. "They're alright. Rose is really nice. Al is…" He hangs his head so I can't see his expression, but his tone is very light.

"Do you fancy her?"

"Who?"

"Rose,"

His head snaps up in surprise. "It's not like that. She's like a…like a sister or something." Well, that's one question answered…

"And…"

"And what?"

Scorpius' tone has changed and that look that I saw last night has returned. He gets so angry that his father stays perfectly still, afraid that in his words lies a minefield and any moment he might set off one.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Scorpius is tight-lipped. His lips are a thin line of impenetrability. He shakes his head and shrugs casually.

"Son . . . just talk to me." He sounds almost pleading and wretched and I feel ashamed like I saw something I wasn't supposed to ever see: a Malfoy begging.

"I'm just . . . I'm just. . ." Mr. Malfoy looks hopeful for about a second before Scorpius crushes his dreams with, "I'm just in a bad mood after last night, is all."

"Right, right, of course."

The moment is lost and Mr. Malfoy looks defeated, but quickly clears his throat and readjusts his expression. He's back to looking slightly bored. "I'd punish you some more for this, but I see that you already have detention. I'll take off your current punishment as well." Mr. Malfoy waves his wand and taps his son three times on the right shoulder with it. Scorpius doesn't even bother to pretend to look grateful.

"You can go back to playing Quidditch. Please do well in your exams and don't let Rose Weasley beat you in every test. I'd never hear the end of it from Granger."

So they do talk! Scorpius gives him a look.

"How is Grandfather's appeal coming along, sir?" Scorpius suddenly asks. Mr. Malfoy regards him shrewdly before he answers.

"Don't worry about that. I have everything under control."

He suddenly moves to the door and I bend down to tie my shoelaces. Yes, I know that's lame, but that's the best that I could come up with at short notice. I can feel Scorpius looking at me suspiciously when he comes out of the room. I look up and see Mr. Malfoy pass my Mum without a glance, but his swishing cloak hits her ankle. He had no reason to pass that close to her and she acts as if he had not touched her at all, her eyes focused on the professor. Mum's lack of reaction is in high contrast to Dad and Professor Flitwick, who look at Mr. Malfoy no doubt wondering about his arrogance and in truth, it did look like he did that as if to say make room for King Draco Malfoy. But I know better. The way that looked… It looked like he was telling Mum goodbye in a subtle way, but it was so subtle that he might as well have shouted out to her.

I look over at Scorpius. He noticed it too. He gives me a raised eyebrow to mean, 'well, what are you going to do about that?' He walks after his father and Professor Flitwick eventually ends his fawning over my parents. Mum and Dad turn to me.

"Where's your brother?" Dad asks.

"He made a break for it."

"What!" Mum cries. "I'm on it." Dad says and heads off to find Hugo.

"You know, I don't know what he thinks I'm going to do to him. People'll think I abuse him."

"Mum," I interrupt her, "I need to tell you something."

She looks like she's dreading hearing more news of my misbehaviour. "Yes?"

"It's about Mr. Malfoy…"

A/N: So, what are your thoughts on Scorpius (besides that he's being a brat)? Review and tell me! Does the experience of school for him and Rose and Al seem realistic given the situations? Is there a lesson to be learnt, but poor Scorpius has yet to see it?