Chapter 10: A Day To Remember
I edited this chapter like no other. It's practically setting up a new story at this point. Please enjoy.
Disclaimer: All canon characters belong to the lovely JKR; I don't own anything except for my OG OCs.
AAA.
The incident in the Potions' examination room had prompted an immediate hiatus in the exam as students, who followed trouble like lemmings off a cliff, were unable to resist standing in their seats. Soon the whole room was in uproar as heads craned over one another, each attempting to glimpse what had been wholly unheard of in an O.W.L examination.
Carpathia, who had been struggling with selecting the next ingredient for her assigned potion, welcomed the respite as a chance to reorganize her thoughts. God, did she hate Potions.
"Any idea what's happening?" The student behind her tapped her shoulder, commanding her attention.
"Malfoy and Weasley," replied Carpathia, and the student snorted behind her, immediately turning over his shoulder to pass on the information to the person behind him. Carpathia looked over at the column of seats next to hers, which coincidentally happened to be allocated for the surnames starting with 'P', and immediately caught sight of Al.
As though she had transmitted a signal, Al met her eyes and the two of them shared a knowing expression. Lines of exasperation were etched around his eyes and mouth.
"SIT DOWN AND SHUT YOUR BLOODY TRAPS," Astrakhan roared into his wand as he strode down the aisle next to Carpathia, "NO TALKING TO ONE ANOTHER. TAKE YOUR SEATS AND RESUME TESTING, OR THE EXAM WILL BE CANCELED EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY."
A ripple of anxiety murmured across the hall. Chairs scraped as everyone obediently did as told, and the examination was once more filled with the noises of chopping and hissing fires. Carpathia's gaze fell back to the choice she had laid out on her station – the vial of lace-wing flies or rhinoceros horn?
"Potter, come with me." Astrakhan's lowered tones could not mask his command from being heard from audible distance, and Carpathia, distracted, looked up to see a gobsmacked-looking Al being pulled away from his station and led out of the examination hall.
AAA.
"The good news is that it's not permanent," stated Madam Curatis—Hogwarts' resident Healer—as she prodded a blissfully unaware Scorpius Malfoy who was propped up on one of the Hospital Wing beds.
Rose swallowed and responded weakly: "That is terrific news."
Scorpius cast her a beatific smile upon hearing her words and she looked away quickly. He had been doing that periodically ever since the two of them had been carted off to the Hospital Wing. It was terribly unsettling.
"It is most certainly not, Miss Weasley," refuted the O.W.L Head Examiner, his gray moustache wobbling in rage.
Right, him again.Rose's climbing spirits plumetted as she registered all the authority present in the room, authority that was currently very displeased with her. Worst of all was the fact that even Deputy Headmaster Longbottom had been called in—a reminder that this incident would most likely reach the ears of her parents. Longbottom, who Rose had long referred to as 'Uncle Neville', shook his head in distress.
"Could someone please enlighten me on how Rose might have been able to do something like this?" he demanded, "A Confundus potion rarely results in amnesia."
"Normally not, but Mr. Malfoy's was only half-finished," replied Madam Curatis, "That, combined with the Muffliato Curse that Miss Weasley cast, may have accelerated the potion's properties and produced some strange side-effects." Her hands brushed over the countless vials now propped up on a portable table next to Scorpius. "I believe this can be remedied easily. As I said, the effects are only temporary and there is a possibility that Mr. Malfoy will regain his memory on his own…" They all glanced down at Scorpius, who was humming an unrecognizable tune.
It was like the boy had regressed ten years. His expression of absolute contentment resembled the countenance of a child. The glow of the white hospital pillow behind his head eflected off his blond hair and created an angelic picture. Realizing that everyone was watching him, Scorpius smiled brightly and chirped: "Right, that's me."
Headmaster Longbottom quickly shot Curatis a perturbed look. "Please tell me you have something else in mind."
"Well, Pieter has-"
Right on cue, Astrakhan burst into the room and strode towards the bed in tow with Al, who panted heavily as he appeared to be lugging along several hefty textbooks. "Headmaster, Madam Curatis," Astrakhan bowed his head briefly in acknowledgment, "I will be brewing a Memory Restoration Potion effective immediately, though I will need an extra set of hands if this antidote is to be procured quickly. Potter will be assisting me."
"Albus?" said Headmaster Longbottom with a frown. "Yes, Pieter, whatever you need."
"A student?" interjected the O.W.L examiner incredulously, "You've called on a student to brew a potion for these circumstances?"
Astrakhan rounded on the man with a smooth expression that hinted just barely of contempt. "Potter brewed a perfect Memory Restoration Potion in his second-year, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. I assure you he's capable."
Al was staring at Scorpius with a rather shocked look on his face. "Blimey, what's happened to him?"
"Hello there," said Scorpius cheerfully, his hand outstretched as though he were waiting for Al to shake it. "Really fantastic to meet you. I'm meeting so many new people today and it's been wicked."
Al's jaw dropped. "What-"
"His brain is addled, Potter," interrupted Astrakhan, "You'll find his amnesia warrants that he can't even remember his own name, much less answer your questions. You're still familiar with the potion, are you not, boy?"
Al nodded, still looking rather numb. "Yes. Uh. What about my exam?"
"A perfectly brewed Memory Restoration antidote is O.W.L level, to say the least. Providing you assist me correctly, let's assume you will receive an 'Outstanding'."
The Head Examiner spluttered to life. "Well, this is—absolutely preposterous-"
"Rose," breathed Scorpius in a tone that sounded like he was addressing a goddess. It was the first time the boy had addressed anyone specifically, and the room fell silent as all heads turned to him. "Could I kiss you?"
Al made a sound akin to water getting caught in a drain. Headmaster Longbottom's eyebrows disappeared above his hairline.
Rose thought she was about to die on the spot. "Right. Um." She looked at Astrakhan desperately. "Please make him stop."
Astrakhan's face twitched valiantly in efforts to suppress a smirk. "Often, patients whose minds have been seriously afflicted by magical substances can become emotionally attached to the first person they see or speak to. Not to worry, Weasley," he added sardonically at Rose's aghast expression, "Most likely when Malfoy retains all his original memories he'll have no recollection of his amnesia."
Rose nodded.
The door burst open again and Chantal rushed into the Hospital Wing in a flurry of silk and perfume. When she registered the sight of her boyfriend on the hospital bed, her face contorted into a look of horror. With a cry, she pushing aside the Deputy Headmaster and perched herself on the edge of the hospital bed, clutching Scorpius' hand to her chest.
"Mon cherie, ca va? You look so pale…" She seemed to not have noticed the bewildered expression that crossed Scropius vacant features as she pushed back his hair, checking the temperature of his forehead. Rose uttered a small noise from the back of her throat and, at the sound, Chantal whirled on her, eyes flashing murder. "You did this to him! My poor Scorpius-"
"Oh, me again," Scorpius identified rather pleasantly to himself. He looked at Chantal and asked, politely, "Do I know you?"
Chantal's eyes widened.
"Miss Gerhardt, calm yourself. This is not French parliament and you have an exam to return to," growled Astrakhan with a roll of his eyes, and the agitated French girl slid off the bed like her world had just collapsed. "Bloody teenagers. Now, Therese, what is your recommendation for Malfoy today? Should he be bedridden?"
Madam Curatis examined the boy for several moments, prodding several of his limbs with her wand. "There's no reason why Mr. Malfoy can't be walking around the castle. I wouldn't normally recommend it, but this is such an unusual case that I'd rather take the risk that he might be able to jog back his memory simply by looking around at familiar sights."
"You can't just leave an amnesiac walking around with no supervision!" argued the Head Examiner, who seemed frustrated that none of his remarks were being taking seriously. "There could be no accounting for what harm Mr. Malfoy would get himself into—a magical environment for a boy with no knowledge of magic!"
"No one is saying he will be unsupervised, Justin," exhaled Longbottom, his arms folded irritably. "I concur with Therese that I would prefer that we attempt noninvasive means to revive Mr. Malfoy's memories before resorting to antitodes typically reserved for more severe cases. However, the aim is to draw as little attention to the matter as possible and we would expect whomever to do this to keep a low profile."
"I would also advise there to be no magic performed in Mr. Malfoy's presence," added Curatis, "We don't know how he'd react."
"Yes. And that."
"I would gladly spend the day-" began Chantal, reaching out for Scorpius' hand again.
"Rose," Scorpius interrupted, and he turned to Rose with clear, innocent eyes. There was that look of adoration again. "Could Rose do it?"
Chantal made a noise that sounded like a mix between a squawk and a yelp of outrage.
"Yes, that seems like an apt punishment for Miss Weasley," replied Astrakhan dryly, giving Rose a pointed look. "You heard him. Attend to his every need and don't bend his mind more out of shape than you already have."
Rose felt Chantal's eyes like daggers on the back of her head. She swallowed again and looked back at Scorpius's doleful expression with a prick of guilt. This had been all her fault. "Yes, Professor."
Longbottom checked his watch and sigh. "Well I have to be off. Thank you, Pieter, for taking matters into such quick hands." Astrakhan responded with a curt nod. Longbottom turned back and regarded Rose with a stern expression. "I am not looking forward to writing to Hermione about this, but I'm afraid I have to. We will discuss a suitable punishment later. Under any circumstances, you would be under academic suspension, but I will take Malfoy's notoriety for causing trouble into account. Do you understand, Rose?"
"Yes, Unc—Sir," Rose replied, amending herself hurriedly. She had gotten off easy.
Longbottom glanced at Chantal pointedly. "Miss Gerhardt, do you want to fail Potions?"
The girl's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth, but after a beat, she seemed to think better of her next words. She bowed her head reluctantly and followed the deputy Headmaster out of the room, taking great care to shove into Rose on the way out.
When Longbottom was out of earshot, the O.W.L Examiner descended like a vulture. "No suspension? Never in my years have I ever come across such troublemakers in an exam room! I am very sorry to inform you, Miss Weasley, but our staff does not condone the use of malfeasant magic to inhibit another student's abilities." He stopped to catch his breath, and then uttered the next words with cold finality: "You will not be receiving a Potions' O.W.L."
"I understand," replied Rose quietly, her heart dropping. To her chagrin, Scorpius reached out and stroked her hand sympathetically.
"And as for an N.E.W.T course, well, it is clear that Potions is not your alley-"
"Nonsense. You haven't taught Rose Weasley for five years, I have," cut in Astrakhan with a flinty glint in his eye. "This is not your jurisdiction, Finch-Fletchley. I am her professor, and while she may not be receiving O.W.L accreditation for her records, I believe Miss Weasley would make a fine addition to my N.E.W.T course." He glanced at Rose's drained face and added, "You will still need to take an exam to qualify, of course, but we will settle this at a later time. No doubt you will pass with flying colors. Now," he snapped, noting that the examiner had opened his mouth to utter another mundane objection and was clearly not about to let him do so, "I've had enough of the Hospital Wing. Everybody out. Weasley, make sure Malfoy doesn't accidentally kill himself and return to my office at six p.m so that he can be administered the antidote. Potter, come with me."
Flippin' hell,thought Rose as Astrakhan strode off into the distance with his commanding black robes flapping around him. She realized that Scorpius was still stroking her hand and subsequently whipped it away from his grasp. At least mum never got into this much trouble.
AAA.
"Excuse me. Excuse me." Lightly Carpathia threaded through the buzzing crowd of fifth-years. All around her, the words 'Malfoy,' 'Weasley', and 'expelled' floated above the tremor of excitement that always accompanied juicy gossip. A crowd of students wanted to head over to the Hospital Wing to check out the spectacle for themselves. Carpathia knew better.
Somewhere in the tide of students, Carpathia spotted Chantal shouting angrily for people to step aside, causing passing students to giggle at each other in alarm. "Je n'ai jamais de ma vie été si en colère…that bitch, Rose Weasley!"
Carpathia smirked, pausing to observe Chantal rain hell at poor, unsuspecting victims in the near proximity for several more seconds, and then resumed her path. She turned the corner into the dungeons and saw the familiar shine of brown hair outside Astrakhan's classroom at the end of the corridor. Isabel.
Carpathia pace slowed down to a meander. She hadn't expected to have company.
Isabel swiveled around at the sound of her footsteps and she smiled in greeting. "Oh. Hello."
"Hi," replied Carpathia, smiling back awkwardly. "I guess you came to the same conclusion?"
Isabel shrugged. "I heard about Malfoy's accident. My mates told me Astrakhan went back and practically dragged Al out of the room and I figured this was where he would take him."
"Right," said Carpathia with a nod. Made sense that she ended up in Ravenclaw. "Are you, uh, just waiting for him then?"
"Well, I've been standing here for ten minutes and now I feel stupid," replied Isabel. She held up a crescent shaped bun that was rolled up in tissue paper. "I thought I could get him something to eat. He likes croissants."
"Ah." And all I've ever brought him was moldy, old toast.
She never thought she'd have anything in common with Isabel, and yet here they were, the both of them.
"Well, um," coughed Carpathia, feeling suddenly, horrendously, out of place. "I suppose I'll just leave you to it then."
"Oh, you don't have to."
"No, it's—it's alright. I mean, I guess we haven't really spoken much, have we?" The words tumbled out of Carpathia's mouth candidly and left a rather embarassed tinge in Isabel's cheeks. Carpathia watched the effect with sharp attention to detail, noting the girl's ability to swallow her fluster and the sure way in which smiled back, even if the corners of her eyes crinkled in slight hesitation.
"You're Al's best friend," she replied, her words falling into precise order."I always knew you'd be a little…cautious. It's only natural." Cor, the girl was as sweet as cotton candy.
"No, I just hate everyone. Don't you know?" said Carpathia, smiling slightly. Isabel stared at her in uncertainty for several seconds and then uttered a laugh as the joke latched on.
It's a start, at least, thought Carpathia.
"On second's thoughts this doesn't seem like it's getting anywhere," grimaced Isabel, gesturing at the locked door in front of them. "I was thinking of knocking but Astrakhan might greet me with a pitchfork."
"He's a million years old. You can take him," deadpanned Carpathia. Isabel chuckled.
"So why are you here then?"
"You know, just to-" Have a laugh.But that reason seemed pointless, because why would Al want to have a laugh with a mate if his girlfriend was there with freshly baked croissants? Merlin, all Al needed right now was probably just some pastry and a good snog, and Carpathia wasn't ever going to be a part of that plan.
"It's really not important," she amended. "Tell Al I wish him good luck." Before Isabel could utter another word, she turned around and headed back in the opposite direction.
There were more important matters to attend to. That morning a note had magically appeared by her window sill again. 1:00, the glade, it read, the words sprawled over the image of an ink-black handprint. Carpathia had recognised the symbol and carefree style of cursive in an instant but, far from the ecstasy that had customarily accompanied such a gesture in the past, she only felt the pinch of anxiety and a roiling anger that followed immediately after.
By the time she reached the glade, she was five minutes past one and the figure that stood, his back erected rigidly against the willowy trees, prompted an immediate elevation in her blood levels to the point where she opened her mouth, words of rage on the verge of spilling -
Then Devon whipped around and she saw that his eyes were flashing, too, in fury, and her words tumbled back down her throat.
"Glad you came, Pegs." His voice sounded unfazed, as usual, but Carpathia took in the tiny, offputting details in a matter of moments; the dishevelled angle of his tie, an agitated flush dotting his cheeks, the mistmatched look in his eyes.
"What's happened to you?" she asked, slowly, as he moved towards her, sharp and erratic, like a man deeply disturbed.
"They cut me off," he said, so soft it was more like a dazed mumble, "Adara said they all wanted nothing to do with me anymore. After leaving Hogwarts, that's it, click, no more Devon. I reckon you hadn't heard?"
"No." I didn't think it was actually going to happen.
"Who does that bitch think she is?" he exploded, spit scattering into the air. He smashed his fist against the trunks of one of the trees around them and Carpathia stifffened at the hollow sound of impact. "You don't do that to friends, old friends. She had no one until I came along. Cor, you should have seen her in her first year—a weedy, stuck-up princess who couldn't find a single person who could stand her—until I came along and told her she didn't need to get along with everyone, just with people who mattered. Seven years. And on the day we leave Hogwarts, she takes a fucking chainsaw and shoves it in my back-"
"Save me the exposition," snapped Carpathia, "Have you ever considered that maybe you deserve it?"
Devon rounded on her, his rant grinding to a stop as his eyes widened in astonishment.
"Do you know what I've always wondered? Why the black handprint?" replied Carpathia coolly. "We sign our letters with it. It's stupid and egotistical, but I've always thought it was cool because I felt like I was part of a special group. Honestly, though, it is stupid and egotistical and vaguely poetic—in a sense that it perfectly describes how one person can go about wrapping people around his finger by spewing poisonous bullshit, then—when they least expect it—smother them with his selfishness."
Devon's open mouth snapped shut. "That's a pretty dark interpretation, Pegs."
The name prompted a knee-jerk shiver of irritation. "Stop calling me that." Her reaction made him raise his eyebrows in surprise. "I know I've always been the pushover in the group, to you at least, but you could have at least let me know that you were going to tell Adara that I did something illegal. Something that I didn't even want to do until you convinced me. Don't you understand, Devon, that I'm bloody terrified that the school will find out and expel me?" Her voice rose to a cry, and her eyes began to water as the rage bloomed once again. "On top of that, you're a liar. You said that it was a special moment between us, you used my feelings for you just to make me do what you wanted, but really, you just wanted to feel adored by someone."
Devon finally fell silent for several moments, unable to conjure a clever comment. His expression was stricken as he stared at her and Carpathia wondered whether her face really reflected the shattered, empty sensation she felt in her chest. His body went slack and he reached out for her, his hand gently brushing her arm before she stepped away. "You think that's how I see you? Listen, I know I shouldn't have said anything, but Adara was-"
"Sticking her tongue down your throat, I remember, and then you forgot about me," retorted Carpathia. She stood back and surveyed the boy she had idolized for so long and recalling Erin's words: I don't look at him the same way anymore."What? Shocked that I found out? Yeah, well, I'm bloody done with you. You're on your own."
Devon's face fell away in shock and his entire body went slack. "Thia, please-"
"There is really no explanation you could give me that could change anything."
"She came onto me, honest to Merlin, and I pushed her away as soon as I figured out what was happening. You know that we've had history and I was drunk-"
"No, you were on PEGASUS that night, you idiot, after I made you promise the last time to throw your batch out. But she found out, anyway, because of you."
Devon was silent, but his mismatched eyes said it all.
Carpathia shook her head in disgust and her body trembled in resolve. "For the love of Merlin, you're seventeen. You could go to Azkaban and I can't stay to watch that."
"Please don't go," said Devon, his voice breaking, and his composure unraveling its final piece before her. To her shock, he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs and she felt his shoulders sag against the top of her calves and his fingers clench the back of her thighs. "I know I've done wrong. I'm in over my head. Help me."
I'm in over my head. Devon Lynch, the badboy-Voodoo-Wizard of Hogwarts, had just admitted he'd been defeated and was now cowering before her like a little boy, clutching her like she was his liferaft.
"I wanted to leave home, Pegs. You know how it is. Dad's drinking became unbearable and him, even his wanker friends, began harassing my mum so that I'd have less of a reason to say no to joining the business. I just wanted a bloody new start so that I could live on my own…so, a few months ago, I borrowed money from this lot, shady fuckers they were, and I couldn't pay it back. All they asked in return was that I'd hold onto some of their valuables because no one would suspect a student, or anyone at Hogwarts really, when the Aurors came knocking. It just so happened that they were also importing illegal drugs from abroad and selling them in the country, and PEGASUS was one of them."
"Oh my god. I can't even…Agrippa, Devon, how could you think -"
"Because I thought I could handle it!" His voice contorted in anger, though it was directed at himself. "I didn't realize who I was dealing with-"
"Who were you dealing with?"
"It's…not important and I don't want you in anymore trouble than I've already put you through." He buried his face into her leg, and she felt his hot breath against her right thigh. "After I leave Hogwarts, I'll go work with dad and I'll pay back whatever I owe, and that'll be the last of it. I promise you."
"Me? Why me?" asked Carpathia, almost inaudibly, and she pulled his hair so that his shielded face would come to the light.
His dark green eyes focused on her, intently, and the next words that were uttered fell on her like soft, spring rain: "I love you."
AAA.
"…and this is the Quidditch pitch. Normally, this is where you'd go to play for your House—are you listening?"
Rose stopped, mid-sentence, and turned to face Scorpius, who was meandering aimlessly up the slope of the pitch next to her. The sea of tall grass around them rippled beautifully under the sunlight as a deliciously comfortable breeze swept through the grounds. Summer had arrived early this year.
"I just discovered that my thumb is double-jointed. Did you know that? I certainly didn't know that," commented Scorpius. He waved the mentioned hand at her in delight.
"That answers my question," deadpanned Rose, the fruitlessness of the last hour weighing down on her. She had obligingly dragged Scropius along every infamous rock and tree on the Hogwarts grounds, hoping in vain he would miraculously identify something that would end this depressing episode amongst an evermore depressing series of events. Nevertheless he remained hapless as ever, prompting Rose to check her watch again. Six more hours of torture until six p.m. At least the weather was lovely.
"Shall we get something to eat?" she asked him, knowing she was talking to herself more than to him.
"Whatever you'd like," shrugged Scorpius, squinting as he looked up into the skt. "I just enjoy being here with you, Rose."
A chill raced down Rose's spine as the foreign sound of her name fell out of Scorpius' lips. She could never get used to the way he said it, so tenderly, as if the very sound was music to his ears. "Don't—nevermind."
She turned her back to him,and even then, could feel his eyes on her. His eyes neverseemed to be fixed anywhere but on her. "Accio…food."She pointed her wand half-heartedly at the Hogwarts castle, shining in the distance, hoping that whatever came whizzing at them wouldn't be either half-eaten or covered in flies. "Please stop staring at me. You won't believe how uncomfortable that is."
"Sorry." Another foreign word. She swiveled back and found that, contrary to what she'd just asked him to do, he was gazing at her rather earnestly. "You're really pretty. I reckon I've got a thing for redheads."
Rose snorted before she could help herself.
"What?" insisted Scorpius, and then he crossed his arms in a vote of stubborn confidence. "It's the hair. Definitely the hair. You look like a walking piece of art."
"I must have that plaqued to my ceiling to get me out of bed in the morning."
He grinned at the sarcastic remark. "We must have gone out."
She started to laugh, awful as the situation was, because it was starting to get all too funny. "I would rather walk into an Acromantula nest. Twice."
"Was it a bad breakup? That would explain why you wiped my memories. Surely I'm not that terrible of a kisser?"
"Malfoy!" exclaimed Rose in exasperation as she was hit by a wave of unappetizing images. "You're driving me mad."
"Yes, that's how it starts," said Scorpius with a smirk, and his tone sounded uncannily like himself again. "And the next thing you know, you're-"
"Shut up," snapped Rose savagely. The carefully wrapped up emotions she had endured all morning unraveled as her tongue tugged on a loose thread. "Just shut up because you don't understand what's going on, alright? I wasn't your girlfriend. I'm never going to be your girlfriend. I'm-"
Carter's girlfriend, but she couldn't quite swallow the sentence back down her throat even after her head had corrected herself, because the truth was that as the memories of this morning rushed back, she felt crippled. She could still replay the paralyzing fear that had coursed through her after Carter's hand had made its way around her throat, but it was that dreadful relief that had ensued after Malfoy had prevented the situation from escalating that had left her with such a repugnant mixture of self-hatred and rage that she found herself wishing, just for a moment, that she was the one to have her memories wiped.
Scorpius expression knotted into genuine concern. "I've upset you."
His contrite response startled her. She remembered that she was dealing with basically what constituted as a blank canvas who had no recollection of who he was, and as bizarre as this was for her, it didn't change the fact that he was struggling to make sense of even basic facts. "No, I'm not being fair. It's like yelling at an infant."
His hand clamped down firmly on her arm as she attempted to walk away from him. He steered her back. "Thank you, but that doesn't solve anything. If you want to have it out with me, have it out with me. That man said I wouldn't remember anyway."
"I did this to you. You don't have to be sorry."
"I don't think you did it without a reason." He paused. "Please. I do care that I upset you."
He had used the word 'please'. She shook her head and stared directly into his clear blue eyes, somewhat flabbergasted that his face, normally shrouded with layers of thought and calculation, was devoid of any barriers. For the first time since they'd met she could read him like an open book, and the page screamed apologetic. "Why?"
"You're a nice person," said Scorpius frankly. "I don't like it when nice people get hurt. Especially by me."
The image of Scorpius' fist colliding into Carter's face, and the smack that had ensued, burst in her mind. You're done here. Who would have ever conceived Scorpius as a champion for the defenseless? That perplexing thought prompted a flush to spread across the back of Rose's neck, warming the tips of her ears. "When did you become so soft, Malfoy?"
"You're asking me, the amnesiac?" asked Scorpius baldly. At that moment, a half-eaten doughnut smacked the side of his face, spraying sugar across his already pale features.
At the sight of Scorpius' shocked expression, paired with the fact that here was a boy that could not remember a single magical spell, Rose burst into peals of laughter. "Your face-"And then a solid object boomeranged right into her nose, bouncing off the cartilage and prompting the inside of her sinuses to smart. Her eyes watered just in time to spot a croissant landing in the grass before her. Flakes of pastry fell from her eyelashes.
This time it was Scorpius that laughed and it was a sharp, barking sound that emanated from his chest and juddered the air between them; the most authentic expression of jubilance Rose had ever heard from him.
AAA.
Nobody had ever told Carpathia they loved her.
Her pureblood family, as ancient as Salazar Slytherin himself, advocated the tradition of love as a representation of obedience and loyalty rather than intimacy. Her parents had rationed out love with careful, calculated precision, and Carpathia's inability to bend to their often outdated idealogies resulted in empty, unused portions of affection to rot out in the cold, silent halls of Nott Manor. Though she was older than Gareth by sixteen minutes and thus traditionally valued higher as the elder child, the Notts soon devoted their attention away from her, like pruners casting aside wild weeds in favor of a crisp, outstanding pine. Gareth, gruff and unfeeling, was a son that understood their version of love, and while Carpathia was certain Gareth had loved her since they'd shared the womb, he never knew how to show it.
"I love you," said Devon.
The words hit her someone had knocked the breath out of her lungs. She had to remind herself that he was still holding onto her for support and that buckling would undermine them both.
"You don't," she said, her voice strangled, "I reckon it's probably the first time you've ever confessed to anyone about committing a crime."
"I love you," repeated Devon, his face twisting into a ludicrous smile. "I don't know when it happened. I probably realized it on one of our nights out and Adara was chatting her mouth off and you just had this look on your face like you thought she was the biggest idiot in the world, all without saying a word, and I thought that you were brilliant."
He stood up slowly, his torso shifting and erecting itself so that suddenly he was looking down at her. Her legs, without the weight of him on them, felt light and untethered. "And then we had that night together, even though I know I forced you into it, which was unforgettable. We were floating and all the stars were burning around us, and there was this moment where you—you looked so damn beautiful and free and everything I wanted to be."
His hands stretched out cautiously, as if he didn't want to scare her off, and placed themselves around her shoulders. "You're not like other people. Truly. But you're so much like me. We both have broken families. We both always felt like outcasts, but the best part is that we never tried to fit in. Albus Potter." He uttered the name with a little scoff, "I know he's your friend, Thia, but he doesn't understand what you want. I do."
He was at her doorstep now; his face was cupping her hand and she felt herself being swallowed up by him and not wanting to pull away. "You always told me that your worst nightmare would be being put in a cage and I love you for that." He kissed her neck, his lips barely grazing her skin, and her breath hitched. Feeling her response, he began to trail his lips up to her jaw, and then, moving quickly, he was kissing her eyelids. "I love that you've never cared what people think of you. I love that you have all these dreams. I used to think that, after Hogwarts, I'd be able to convince you to run away to any corner of the world with me and that we'd be so much bloody happier than a cushy job at the Ministry like these lot around here want. You could explore and research whatever you wanted, and I'd be happy meeting the locals and following you around. I love you, Carpathia and I know you love me too."
She believed him. Not every word, but she believed that the way he looked at her now spoke of complete and utter understanding. When his lips roamed back to her mouth, her lips rose up to meet him. "I do," she murmured into him, finally, finally able to say it.
AAA.
"Nothing yet?"
They were on the banks of the Black Lake and Rose had resorted to skipping stones. Rowan had taught her that the best stones were often buried several centimeters below the sand in shallow water, where they had been pressed and molded by the waves above them for years. She let Scorpius watch her. His trousers were rolled up just below the knees as he stood in the shallows beside her, an expression of amusment settling over his features.
"Afraid not. Maybe I didn't like skipping stones."
"Well," Rose expelled a breath, undeterred simply because the answer had been the same the previous ten times she'd asked, "Too bad, because I've run out of activities."
Scorpius glanced down at his feet. His toes wriggled in the glassy water, starkly white against the smooth black stones beneath them. "It's freezing."
"It's Scotland." She flicked her wrist and a stone whistled across the top of the water in three perfect arcs before sinking. "Here. You try."
"I've got an idea that might jog some memories back," said Scorpius, kneeling into the water obligingly and picking out a stone. "I get to ask you ten questions and you have to answer them correctly and honestly."
"Right. And?"
"If there's a question you can't answer, you have to jump in the water. If you can answer all of them, then I will. And when I say jump in, I mean all in." He enunciated the final two syllables gleefully. Rose shot him a deadened look.
"I'm supposed to keep you alive. What if you can't swim?"
"I can swim."
"And how do you know that, Mr. Amnesiac?"
Scorpius scoffed and gestured at his chest, drawing attention to his wiry, lean frame. "Do I look like someone who can't swim?"
Rose felt her mouth twitching."What's to stop me from fabricating an answer?"
"Nothing." Scorpius tossed the stone several times in his hand and then hurled it into the water. It landed into the lake with a sizable splash. "Your honour—seems like you have some."
"Hm." Rose tossed her second stone. It bounced off the surface of the water twice, spinning like a top. "I suppose I've gotten to know you well enough over the years. Ten questions, Malfoy."
"Good," said Scorpius, "First off, why Malfoy and not Scorpius?"
"That's easy. We're not mates."
Scorpius frowned, and the rock he was holding in his hands fell with a comically large splash into the water beneath him. "Right, ouch. Please don't hold back. We're not?"
Rose smiled and handed him one of the prized smooth stones she had collected earlier. "Was that a question? Try one of these."
"No," amended Scorpius quickly, accepting her stone, and she found his fingers to be surprisingly warm. "Who's my best mate?"
Rose's smile widened and when he caught sight of her expression, his eyebrow cocked. "Albus Potter."
"So shouldn't he be here instead of you?"
"He's up in the castle, making your antidote." She chuckled after several moments of eyeing his abysmal technique. "You're not getting anywhere with a throw like that. You've got to flick your wrist. See?"
She demonstrated several times as he watched, and then he repeated the movement, muttering feverishly to himself concentration. She rather liked that he was taking this so seriously. After he had attempted another unsuccessful skip, he glanced at her contorted expression and the familiar glint of competition dawned on his features. "It's cruel to laugh at the mentally disabled, you know."
She bit her lip in an effort not to do just that. "I'm not laughing. I'm gloating."
"Alright, gloat away, but there must be one thing I'm better than everybody else at."
"There is."
"Go on then."
Rose paused for a beat. "Shoes."
"Ha. Be serious."
"I am," smirked Rose, "Ask anyone and they'll say you have the best taste in shoes. Oxfords, loafers, lace-ups, wing-tips, you name it. There are girls I know that would kill for a pair of yours."
Scorpius folded his arms, his expression perturbed. "This is seriously offputting."
"Am I meant to be putting you off or answering questions?"
"Fair enough. Favorite color?"
"Green."
"Best holiday present?"
"Your Nebulus 2030, Silver edition." She added, to compensate for his confusion, "It's a broomstick. You got it when you were fourteen and made sure everyone that year knew."
"Dogs or cats?"
"Neither. Dragons."
"Wear three woolly coats and gloves in the middle of July or nothing but socks in the dead of winter?"
Rose blinked, her brain slipping over the question like wheels over black ice. An inadvertent giggle stuttered out of her lips. "I—well, look, if I've got socks then my feet are covered, which is the most important part of the body for retaining heat anyway. Naked in winter."
She stared at him as defiantly as she could, and the corners of his bright blue eyes crinkled in amusement. "You were supposed to answer that question for me."
"Oh." Heat flooded her cheeks with colour. "Well, you've never had a problem showing off your body."
His eyes, previously fixed on hers, darted down then up again before he looked hastily away, but they both knew where he'd been looking. "You know," he said, nonchalantly, "I think I need more details to verify if that's honest or accurate."
Rose's foot arked above the water, dousing Scorpius in droplets. "Shut it. Seven."
He wiped a drop of water away from his nose, looking at her from underneath damp tufts of hair. "Memory wiping aside, what's the worst you've ever done to me?"
Rose let out a sharp bark of laughter as the memory returned to her. "Last year, our history professor assigned a 7,000 word essay on Goblin 16th century ironmongers. Bloody tedious. You got higher marks than anyone else on your draft and was so convinced you would have the best paper in the class that I put a spell to make the words change order every time you read parts of it out loud. You ended up rewriting that thing at least five times and it drove you absolutely mental doing it because you had no idea what was happening." Trying not to giggle was laborious; the memory of Scorpius wearing his disbelieving scowl as he'd received his comeuppance was as delicious as the scent of an old, beloved book washing over her.
Scorpius' eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his scalp. He wore a look of mingled admiration and indignance. "That's sadistic."
"I wanted to teach you a lesson on boasting. Didn't work, apparently."
The corner of Scorpius' mouth quirked, as if he had been let in on a secret unknown to her. "You do like me."
Rose frowned. "How on earth did you get that from that?"
"You don't have to admit it."
"I won't, because it's not true."
Scorpius shrugged. "Fine. Question eight. Admit something you like about me."
Rose opened her mouth to retort, nothing, but the weight of their agreement clamped down on her like shackles, and she paused to give her answer more thought.
A memory crept up to her, glimmering dully from the years gone past like fruit past its prime, and she abruptly envisioned a ruddy-faced, sneering Scorpius Malfoy. In hindsight, he had been such an erratic young boy, full of sharp-tongued ire and jaded disdain for the world and people around him. Back then, she had always assumed he'd thought himself better than everyone else, when really, it had always been the opposite.
"There was a boy in our year a few years ago…Bellamy Walters. His family relocated to America but when he was here at Hogwarts, he absolutely hated you and everyone knew it. Anyway, we were learning how to transfer objects into 2D surfaces in Charms. On the day of the lesson, Bellamy, the little shite, comes to class with a blown-up picture of your parents."
Scorpius' expression knotted into one of burning curiosity, and she continued before he could interrupt, "The professor's running late, so Bellamy stands at the front of the room and says to everyone, 'I've got a tomato in my hand and two eggs in the other. Which one should I throw at Malfoy's parents first?' The other wankers in the room are egging him on. Bellamy looks at you and says 'Sod it. Don't need a spell for this.' He starts hurling everything he can get his hands on at your parents and they, of course, don't like that very much and they're running around trying to get out of the way. Bellamy's lads start shouting horrible names at them, awful names, and the whole room is so shocked that no one knows whether they ought to laugh or stop it, until you stand up."
"Everyone thinks you're about to beat Bellamy to a pulp, but you walk calmly to the centre of the room, point your wand to the box of tissue paper on the professor's desk, and perform the spell perfectly." She smiled. "As your parents are wiping themselves off, you go straight to Bellamy and say, completely unfazed, 'That's how you do it, you daft bellend.'"
When she paused, she saw that his eyes were fixed intently on her face in both disgust and fascination, drinking in her every word. She said, quietly, "That's what I like about you."
Scorpius exhaled and his hands clasped together, fingers steepled under his chin in contemplation. "I don't understand. What do my parents have to do with-"
"Nothing," cut in Rose, realising her mistake. "They have to do with nothing."
"But you just said-"
"Malfoy." She took a step closer to him and put a hand on his arm. "Trust me. Don't let that be your last question." When he opened his mouth to interject again, she said, softly, "It's complicated and pointless and you don't need to know now, because when you get your memories back, you'll know plenty."
His eyes darted down to the contact between them, and as his mouth began to spread yet into another grin, she withdrew her hand quickly.
"Am I a virgin?"
She gaped at his faux-innocent, stupidly triumphant expression for several seconds before throwing her hands up in the air in concession. "Yeah. I can't. You win." Without another word, she drew her shirt off over her head, shimmied out of her trousers, and—while making her truest effort not to establish any eye contact whatsoever with Scorpius—dove headfirst into the freezing lake.
The water pierced her like knives as she ploughed through the grainy shallow depths, and when her feet could no longer feel the pebbles on the bottom, she broke the surface and gasped when the warm air shocked her constricted lungs. There was a loud splash and an immediate, subsequent yelp behind her. When Rose's body finally began to numb to the temperature so that she had to capacity to clear the water from her eyes, she saw Scorpius rear up from the pristine surface of the lake just a few meters away, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a dog and grinning in absolute joy as he rendered their agreement moot and swam towards her.
AAA.
They paddled around in each other in circles, like clockwork ducks, and the ripples they created radiated outwards and crashed onto the pebbly beach. The world around them was punctured only by the sound of their voices and the faint chirp of birds in the distance. It was so tranquil that, for a moment, Rose forgot that she was at Hogwarts.
"How long do you reckon it'll be until one of us gets hypothermia?" mused Scorpius.
Rose laughed, the adrenaline of the cold water pumping through her veins. They'd officially thrown out the gauntlet now. "Can I just say, for someone who's lost all their memories, you are irritatingly sharp?"
"I'm just naturally clever."
Rose sputtered and coughed as water shot up her nose. "Well, we'll either die of hypothermia or get eaten by the Giant Squid."
"The what?" Scorpius' voice skyrocketed in alarm.
"Didn't you know?" She looked at him sideways, feigning an apologetic expression. "She gave up being vegetarian."
"What sort of a school is this anyway? Amnesia, giant man-eating monsters, verbal abuse from ferocious redheaded females…" He splashed her. "At least I'm going to be offed next to a half-naked girl."
She glared and splashed back, but not before he smiled and swiftly ducked below the surface. "I didn't say you could look!" she shouted in vain, as his speckled underwater silhouette motored towards her.
He emerged from the water barely a meter away, rivulets of water dripping down the smooth surfaces of his face, and she was suddenly aware of how his hair, normally immaculately placed and nearly plastic-looking, had darkened with the water and was now slicked to his face, allowing the arched Roman nose and high cheekbones to protrude strikingly. The reflection of the waves cast sunlight onto his skin, and his complexion—usually paled to the point of sickliness-glowed with a sense of vitality. He closed the distance between them in two swift strokes and she caught sight of his arms, lean and coiled from years of repetitive muscle building in Quidditch. A strange but familiar heat rose up behind her ears.
"Nice underwear," he commented, unashamedly brash, and the sudden provocation prompted Rose to shake her head fervently.
Just the water, she thought. The bloody water.
"I liked you better when you weren't trying to upset me," she replied, glowering at the thought of her black cotton pants and the pink letters 'Kiss Me' emblazoned on the buttocks, a cheeky gift Amanda Longbottom had insisted on buying her for her fifteenth birthday.
Scorpius merely smiled at her in return, and she became aware that he was so close that she could see the water dripping from his eyelashes. "If we do die, wouldn't you be glad that at least you were having fun?"
"No," she admitted. "But I'd rather die than admit that I'm having fun."
The joke replayed across his features as his smile widened, and even in the midst of her exasperation at his persistent attempts to charm her, a sense of elation shot up her spine, like an electric shock, as she felt his foot brush against the side of her ankle.
"Malfoy," she said, forcing herself to sound stern.
"What?"
"Stop playing footsie."
"Believe me," said Scorpius dryly, "I'm not."
"Then what-" Rose cut herself off, and the two of them stared at each other with widened, panicked eyes as the revelation hit them. They erupted into shouts simultaneously.
"Fuck!"
"Giant squid!"
"Swim back!"
The two of them ferociously stroked back to the shore, the sheer idea of fear fueling their resolve, and when they fumbled out of the water they flopped onto the stony beach, chests heaving in exhaustion. Water dripped down from their skin and etched their forms onto the pebble surface beneath them.
After several longer seconds of silence, Scorpius finally said: "Rose?"
She angled her face towards him. "What?"
"I think you've still got a tentacle attached to your leg."
Rose immediately looked down and spotted the piece of spindly, green kelp wrapped flimsily around her ankle. At the sight, she began to laugh, unstoppably, at the ridiculousness of what had just happened. She laughed for so long that Scorpius had to settle her down by placing a hand on her shoulder, and even then, when she turned up to look at his mirthful expression, she could still feel it rising inside her, spreading through her chest like the wings of a bird and carrying the weight of today with it.
AAA.
The cauldron was hissing generously now as the potion entered its ferocious middle stage of brewing. Every so often, the half-baked concoction would cough and sputter, like an elderly man with a severe case of bronchitis, and Al would catch the whiff of earthy leaves and something faintly tangy.
"Well done," commented Astrakhan with satisfaction, taking his glasses off momentarily to join Al by the cauldron. "Splendid, Potter. Now flat side of the blade, make thin crushed slices out of the frog liver. Thin, you hear?" He cocked his head to the side and smiled. "I do believe our Infant Troll record has just finished. Time to put on a new one." He hummed to himself and went to his cabinet, his fingers dancing over the spines of hundreds of records on the shelf.
It had been a new discovery for Al that his Potions Master was an avid lover of 80's pop music. In the last three hours, Astrakhan had not failed to recite every single lyric of every record that came warbling out of his crackling record player. The one he slid now into the whirring machine was another Celestina Warbeck. Al groaned inwardly but chose to suppress his objections as he rummaged through the potions kit on his desk.
He picked up a bluish, soft, object. "Professor?"
"In a minute, Potter, it's Krimi Flendrix on at the moment," dismissed Asrakhan gruffly, looking abnormally merry as the music commenced into a wailing, electric guitar solo. "What is it?
"Is this frog liver?"
"Bleeding hell. Course not, boy. That's an acromantula kidney stone. Absorbs fluids like nothing you've ever seen and used for immediate bleeding relief in severe accidents, but only if you have a Mediwizard fast enough to insert it into the patient's mouth before they bleed out." Astrakhan chortled. "Veryhigh in demand for Quidditch players."
Al regarded the object with interest and then he quickly placed it on the desk before Astrakhan could notice.
He was a second too late. The professor caught him looking, and grinned knowingly. "You are enjoying this, aren't you, boy?"
"No," replied Al hurriedly, turning back to his station and picking up a much smaller, somewhat bent out of shape black stone that seemed to be the right ingredient. "Didn't realize you were trying to slide in a career's session."
"There is nothing criminal about mentioning Mediwizards in a conversation about Potions. They are very much interlinked."
"Hm, so you're saying this has nothing to do with your own agenda?"
"It's hardly my agenda when I have nothing to gain. Perhaps you should ask why your parents decided to name you the way they did."
"Dumbledore?"
"Snape, boy. One of the greats to have blessed the field of Potioneering."
Al snorted. "I don't think that's what mum and dad had in mind when they named me after him."
"Well," Astrakhan drew out the syllable slyly. "There is great power in a name."
Al turned to the man and opened his mouth to respond.
"Eyes on the cauldron, Potter," cut in Astrakhan, returning to his usually sharp demeanour. Al whipped around and realized that the concoction was bubbling over. Hastily, he bent over the apparatus and lowered the flame.
"After the brewing stage, we still have to decanter it and leave it out for two hours at exactly minus two degrees celsius. The work is hardly finished."
Al sighed and resigned himself back to finishing Scorpius' bloody antidote, with Astrakhan's crotchety rendition of 'I've Got A Cauldron Full of Hot, Hot Love' drifting above the music in the background.
AAA.
"…little magic-market in Beijing. We were in a shop that sold only snake products but had no idea, of course, so dad asks the shop owner to pour us four cups of what he assumes is herbal tea, and we end up each having a shot of snake venom instead. You know what else is mad? It's not a purely magical thing. Muggles drink snake venom too. I can't say I didn't enjoy it though-it was brilliant for about a minute before the nausea set in." Pause. "Thanks for listening. I'm talking too much, aren't I?"
"It was a fairly illustrative answer to the question, 'what are your parents like'?"
"Oh. Sorry."
"Don't apologise. It's not like I have much to contribute." Pause. "I rather like that I'm seeing the world through your eyes."
"Wish you could tell me what your parents are like."
"I thought we weren't mates."
"Wipe the smirk off your face, Malfoy. I'm still a human being and I regret never asking you."
"I reckon they're very normal, average people."
Silence.
"How do you know what snake venom is but not remember your mum and dad?"
"I don't know. It's probably the way the amnesia works. I can remember objects and what they're meant to do - that's all stored up in my brain somewhere- but I can't remember any experiences. Same with faces. They float in and out but I can't name anyone. Everything's muddled up."
"Sounds maddening."
"It doesn't matter anyway. We've got another hour left until six."
"Already? I must have completely lost track of time."
Silence.
"Something funny? You're grinning again."
"I just realized this isn't the first time I've tried to wipe someone's memories. When I was four I broke mum's favorite china dish while she was out of the house and my little brother had just learned how to talk, so I snuck into dad's bedroom and stole an old wand he's kept in his closet since his school days. Had no inkling it was completely dysfunctional and ended up making Hugo burp butterflies for a good eight hours. Mum was livid. She spanked me so hard I couldn't sit properly for a month."
"You know I'm laughing now, but someone should probably warn the public."
Pause.
"I'm sorry I never asked you, Malfoy, but are you angry with me?"
"No. Why would I be angry if I can't remember what I've lost?"
Silence.
"Maybe we should all get a dose of amnesia from time to time."
AAA.
"Devon?"
Carpathia whispered into the shadows and squeezed the hand that was encircled around her own. The sun was setting over the trees above them, casting pinpricks of light that permeated through the sieve of leaves and fell on them like golden raindrops.
When Devon turned to look at her, his eyes freckled with light. "What?"
"I was thinking about what you said about running somewhere far away. I have two more years of school left, but if you're willing to wait, maybe when I'm finished I could find you at your dad's place and we could go together. Costa Rica, China, maybe even Iceland."
Devon rose to his knees, his eyes widening, and suddenly he looked very much like a schoolboy. "Do you mean that?"
"Yes," said Carpathia, smiling, "I do. But I can't leave everything behind now so if you'll wait-"
He drew her face to him and kissed her, and though her lips were already sore from the incessant snogging over the last two hours, she felt the thrilling swoop in her stomach, a sensation of mingled disbelief and exhilaration, that this was all happening to her.
He pulled away, grabbed her shoulders, and said, firmly, "Come visit me this summer."
Carpathia's mouth dropped. "At your dad's?"
"Yeah," His hands dug into her robes in excitement. "He's a knobhead but you'll love it there. Massive mansion and copious grounds and all."
"But I-" Carpathia faltered. "I can't. You know my parents. My father would blow his top off."
"Your father…" Devon repeated, blinking rapidly, and an odd, fraught expresson settled over his features, flushing out the color in his cheeks to a ghostly complexion. "Yes, that's right. Mr. Nott."
"Right," frowned Carpathia, somewhat concerned over this abrupt change in demeanour. "You okay?"
Devon gazed at her for several moments, his expression knotting resolutely, before saying brusquely. "Fuck 'em. Come with me anyway."
Carpathia clapped her hand over her mouth, stemming the laughter trickling out of her lips. "You're not serious."
"I'm dead serious," replied Devon, indeed very seriously. His thumb traced circles along the side of her neck. "I'm going to spend every minute with you if this is about to be the worst two years of my life…even more so than two years of Divination and, believe me, I wasn't even conscious for half of that."
"Don't you think this is moving a bit fast?"
"Darling," there was a mad glint in Devon's eye as he grinned at her, and she recalled all the days she'd spent staring at her four-poster bed ceiling reliving that grin as if it were directed at her. "That's the only way to move."
"You're mental."
"That's why you fancy me." And then he leaned in and she was pulled away into the erratic, turbulent current that was Devon Lynch, the last of her will loosened from the tether that anchored her to familiar shores.
AAA.
"Aren't you supposed to make sure I don't accidentally kill myself?"
Scorpius was doing his best to sound offhanded but nonetheless was unable to mask his air of anxiety as he stood, shrunken in stature in the grand space fo the Quidditch pitch, watching Rose as she fiddled with the settings of an old Firebolt. It was a model their parents had used in their day, but with the limited secondhand brooms in Hopkirk's collection, it would have to do.
Rose slipped on a pair of hand-me-down Quidditch gloves and smiled. "Bit late for that. Besides, you'll be glad I forced you to do this."
"You're sure that I've done this a million times?" he persisted as Rose clamped her hand down on his arm and dragged him to the idle broomstick on the ground.
"Positive," she chirped. Awkwardly, she positioned the broomstick between both their legs, shuffling them closer together. "Hold tight." She felt his arms encircle her waist, and the flutter of air as his breath caressed the back of her neck. This part he probably didn't mind.
"By the way," she added breezily, "This is for all the times you tried to knock me off my broom." On that note, she kicked off into the air and relished the sound of his petrified yell in her ear.
The wind funnelled through them as Rose gained altitude, and then, after ensuring that Scorpius was clinging onto her like a drowning man to driftwood, she roared into a steep dive, allowing the familiar cold panic to take over her body for several seconds before immediately veering upwards into an upside down loop. The sunlight glinted in and out of her vision and the sky and earth alternated positions like a dancing couple, until Rose levelled out at a steady speed, allowing the wind to carry them smoothly across the grounds.
Scorpius was so close that she could feel his feverish pulse against her own heartbeat. His hands clawed into the sides of her torso.
"You alright?" she asked, slightly concerned that perhaps she'd frightened him out of his already shattered wits.
"I'm…spiffing," she heard him mutter jerkily and his hands loosened at her waist, "You're evil."
Rose grinned. She gazed out onto the darkening night sky and murmured: "Shut up and have a look at that."
The sun was a fireball, bludgeoning the sky with the red-and-velvet death of some magnificent celestial being. The image of the trees, fire at their tips and burnt black a their stems, stretched long across the grass until they faded into the shadows where the sun could no longer reach them. At the edge of the stratosphere the dark blue had started to ink in and several stars began to blink into existence. This was the best part of the dusk, the very edge between light and dark, when the sound of the night settled in, beginning with the cicadas strumming their evening overture. Scorpius made no sound but she knew he felt the beauty in his bones too. There wasn't a single soul alive who couldn't be moved by such a sight. She felt his chin rest in awe on her shoulder, and his hair, soft as feathers, grazed against her cheek. For the first time she didn't feel compelled to tell him to stop.
She angled the broom towards the trees so that they were soaring over the tips of the Forbidden Forest, a black island of trees shrouded already in darkness.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she said, softly. "Sometimes I forget how lucky I am."
She felt his head turn slightly towards her until his cheek was brushing against her own. "Don't forget next time."
She heard the clock chime six in the distance, and the hand steadying their broom trembled. She angled them towards the ground and several moments later, they were on solid grass. The weight of the earth prompted her legs to give way slightly as she tred (with Scorpius in tow, somewhat unsteadily) towards the Quidditch shed. After she had secured the Firebolt in its original place, she silently turned and headed towards the castle, her legs cutting swiftly through the tall blades of glass.
What was this feeling of utter sadness, that pulled on her feet like menacles and drove her spirits into the mud beneath her? She cursed herself. Stupid, selfish Rose Weasley. Had she even allowed a single thought for Carter today and what she'd lost? No, she'd been allowed an undeserved reprieve into a fantasy world, where problems could disappear and you could spend all day reminiscing on what should and could have been. A fantasy world where a boy, who'd tormented her for years and vice versa, had somehow become the source of comfort and-as a result of all this—was it alright that she hadn't suffered at all, that there hadn't been penance for what she'd done?
She stopped in her tracks and realized, suddenly, that a tear had slipped down the side of her cheek. Scorpius' rustling footsteps caught up to her, and then he took hold of her arm and gently twisted her so that she could face him, he looked at her and his features tightened, as though her expression had confirmed what he'd expected.
"Tell me what's wrong."
Rose started to laugh. He stared at her, nonplussed, until she forced the words through with a gasp: "All of this. Can you believe it all only happened this morning? It's ridiculous, and all the more so because I thought this was going to be punishment but I've been absurdly happy. With you."
His expression darkened somewhat, and she continued, on a path of brute frankness: "I don't mean that in a bad way at all." She shook her head and added, her voice quiet and tremulous, "I just never thought that I'd find a kindred spirit in Scorpius Malfoy. It's as if I've been blind all these years."
She stared into the distance, feeling significantly lighter now that she'd gotten that off her chest. The sky had nearly darkened now; the barest sliver of orange sunlight flickered at the edge of the horizon and gave way to the multitude of cold, unblinking stars.
She could feel Scorpius' eyes still on her. She felt his warm hand grasp her own gingerly and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. "Maybe you were. Maybe I was giving you a good reason to be. It doesn't matter because I had a bloody fantastic day and I wish that I didn't have to go back and erase this. I'd like to remember you as this brilliant, kind person instead of whoever you were to me. Don't cry," His thumb flicked across her cheek before she had a chance to open her mouth. "And, honest to God, stop punishing yourself."
Ironically it was those exact words that prompted horrific tears to pool at the edge of her eyes. "You asked me earlier to have it out with you so I'll have it out with you. I don't deserve your praise because all this happened out of my own pride and selfishness. I should have admitted I was wrong with the way I handled Carter and I should have thanked you for doing what only a kind person would have done, God knows what I was thinking-"
"I don't-"
Another thought had niggled its way from her brain to the tip of her tongue, poised, and now it spilled out in a fervent burst. She wiped another furious tear away. "Yes I know you don't, and that's the other thing. What if I've made you lose your memories forever? What if Astrakhan's stupid antidote doesn't work? I wouldn't be able to live with myself-"
"Listen, I-"
"—because you're so clever, Malfoy. You're probably the cleverest and strongest person I know, and if I've ruined you out of self pride then I'm depriving the world of a wonderful person-"
At that moment he placed his hand around the curve of her neck and drew her urgently to him, his lips on hers before she could utter another word.
Shock seeped into Rose's veins and left the next moments vacant, in all senses, until a noiseless symphony rose and exploded in her chest. His mouth began to move, gently, and she felt the sensation spread as he unknowingly increased the pressure of his body on her, leaving her trembling to the bone. She locked her arms around his head to steady herself. His hand tightened around her waist as he responded to her, and she felt the limbs under his clothes shaking in restrained euphoria. Finally, after several scorching minutes, they drew apart and stared at each other, reflecting on the giant crater they had left in their wake that had destroyed their past and left it in askew fragments around them. Scorpius' dizzy expression and the tiny, shellshocked smile said it all.
"Rose Weasley," he said her name in quiet awe, like he'd never heard it before. "You are-"
Then the clock chimed again in the distance, reminding them of what they were already late for.
Like all wonderful moments theirs had ended in the wells of reality. They trundled their last steps to the castle in silence and, just before reaching the great doors, their joined hands fell from each other like an afterthought. They dared not utter a word to one another as students familiar and unfamiliar raced past them on their way to dinner in throngs of excitement. When they arrived at the dungeons, Al and Professor Astrakhan were already waiting for them.
"Congratulations, Miss Weasley," Astrakhan observed dryly. "Malfoy seems to be delivered in one piece."
Rose nodded. A fishbone was stuck in her throat. "All yours, Professor." She darted past Scorpius and thought for a moment he might say something to her. Their eyes merely glanced at one another, and then Scorpius' mouth drew into a thin line and he followed Astrakhan back into his office. The door closed with a final click behind them.
"Thank bloody Merlin that's over and done with," yawned Al, stretching his arms out and swiveling his neck from side to side. A series of clacks followed. "If I have to listen to another Celestina track again…" And here he recounted his miserable experience, pausing at every mind-aching detail to incite a reaction from Rose, who obliged without much feeling. "Then, Astrakhan—no sorry, Pieter—starts hammering me about career advice in the middle of all this and I honestly thought I was going to drink the potion myself…" He stopped talking and frowned at her. "Rosie, you alright? You seem shaken up."
Rose, whose eyes had wandered to an unplottable point in the distance, met her cousin's quizzical expression with a faint smile. "I'm fine. It's just been a nutty day, that's all."
AAA.
AAAAAAAAAnd voila, I hope you enjoyed! Plenty of juicy material this time around.
ScoRo – I had to bring all that culmination tension to a climax, even if it wasn't quite the same reaction for both characters, but I've never been a fan of easy resolutions. And we all know that there's going to be plenty more to explore with these two in the aftermath.
Carpathia – For all the haters out there, she's not dense. She's acting like a 15-year-old teenage girl with daddy issues.
Love,
Missuswitch