Scorpius
When he emerged out onto the bustling main road of Hogsmeade, distress flooded his senses. People were milling about, all the faces mingling into one big blur of unrecognizability that prevented Scorpius from locating Weasley. He kept his head down as much as possible while he scanned through the crowd in search of the elusive witch in an attempt to divert people's attention from his presence, however lots of passers-by seemed to notice him even despite his best efforts. He was wishing that he had opted for darker, more discreet clothing this morning when he suddenly caught sight of a red glint turning a corner at the end of the street. It had to be her; nobody's hair was as large or red as Rose's, not even her brother or any of the other Weasley-spawn. Scorpius realized with a touch of irony that if it weren't for her siren-like head he would never be able to spot her out in a crowd, seeing as she was relatively short in stature and unremarkable upon initial observation in her oversized shirts and loose-fitting jeans.
He hurriedly pushed his way through the crowd in the hopes of catching up to her before she ducked out of sight again. Where were they going? They had been traveling south along the street, which was generally going against the flow of human traffic seeing as not much lay in the southernmost reaches of Hogsmeade, albeit for that neglected, ramshackle bar called the Hog's Head and the old abandoned shack at the edge of town. Scorpius didn't have time to ponder this when he rounded the corner and zeroed in on her retreating back, red hair bouncing and bag swinging against her hip with each step. He was mildly relieved to see that she was keeping a safe but friendly distance from the Scamander boy but at the same time, seeing him at her side made Scorpius's task all the more difficult if he was going to speak to her in private. Nevertheless he was going to have to come up with another way of following Rose without being spotted; the farther south they travelled the less students and Hogsmeade residents cluttered the streets to conceal Scorpius's whereabouts. Scorpius had to assume that they were indeed following the path to visit the Shrieking Shack, though why any self-respecting sixth year would still be enthralled by that hoax of a haunted house he could not comprehend. Quite the sentimental one, aren't we? Good. Maybe I can use that to my advantage later.
As he continued to stalk – no, follow; he refused to believe that Scorpius Malfoy would ever stalk a Weasley – he had to make several quick moves in order to avoid being seen. In most cases he simply ducked into the door of a nearby shop or pressed his back against a wall that would hide him from view, however as they reached the edge of town there were less and less buildings to bar himself from their line of sight and a few close calls had Scorpius's heart racing. In the end, however, he believed that he hadn't been seen by Weasley or Scamander, however there had been one particular paralyzing moment where she'd paused to rummage around in her bag only to freeze and look around, as though she could feel his mere presence. So much for the 'advantage' of being on her radar. Luckily for Scorpius there had been a particularly large tree to squeeze behind before she got the chance to turn around and notice him skulking about. After that Scorpius was doubly careful with each footfall and allowed for a larger distance to gather between him and the couple as an added precaution.
At last, when they had nearly reached the boundary which marked the end of Hogsmeade, Scorpius was able to silently slink into a nearby wood clustered with densely packed trees, an ideal spot to watch Weasley without the danger of being spotted. Although part of him felt ridiculous and pathetic, crouching in a forest and surveying Weasley through the gaps between the fir trees as though playing some sick, one-sided game of hide-and-seek, but at the same time a more carnal, animalistic side of him felt elated and exhilarated, like a predator stalking its prey. Rose and Scamander were leaning against the fence which separated the Shrieking Shack from the street, its structure and foundation in a worse state than Scorpius had ever seen it and windows peering out at them like a pair of black, soulless eyes. Scorpius suppressed a shiver and was immediately thereafter embarrassed for his irrational response; the 'Shrieking' Shack hadn't so much as uttered a peep in all the times he and Christof had ever visited it, which had come as an immense disappointment during that first trip to Hogsmeade when expectations were stacked so high and actualities were in fact so bleak. Indeed Scorpius was surprised there weren't more first-timers clustered around the house and waiting with bated breath for it to reveal its paranormal properties it had been quite a popular destination in his third year when everyone his age was brand-new to Hogsmeade. He supposed that the terror and excitement of the Shrieking Shack had worn out eventually when it continued to disappoint hopefuls, its reputation gradually declining as the years of neglect and decay turned it into no more than an abandoned house in the shadow of what was once a frightening and formidable story. Sure, it was eerie to behold what with its crumbling exterior and air of neglect, but that's all it was – smoke and mirrors, a façade that didn't quite mask its true nature, which was quite frankly boring and disappointing. Scorpius frowned in recognition as though he were looking into a mirror as opposed to the empty windows of a rotting, dilapidated house.
He shook the unsettling thought out of his mind. Rose was right in his clutches. Now the only problem Scorpius would have to overcome was somehow separating her from Scamander, which would be a difficult feat seeing as he was alone and there were no feasible distractions anywhere that Scorpius could see, unless…
While gazing up at the shack and exchanging what appeared to be idle pleasantries, Rose had hung her patched, faded bag over the fence which they were leaning over, giving Scorpius an inexplicable idea. A lightbulb went off in his head as the idea solidified in his mind and organized itself into a plan, and although there were certainly some risks or potential unwanted outcomes of it, Scorpius knew that he would have to act upon it now else Rose and her friend decided to turn back around and he missed his chance.
Silently Scorpius drew his wand and pointed it at the satchel the Scamander boy wore slung across his shoulder and muttered an incantation under his breath, praying it would hit its mark without drawing any attention to his secret hiding spot. For one heart-stopping moment Scorpius thought that he had sent the spell a little too far to the right, however in an instant the second had passed and he was proud to watch as the force of his magic achieved the desired effect; instantaneously Scamander's bag split near the bottom, causing all of its contents to tumble out and onto the ground, leaving a pile of spare bits of parchment, leather-bound notebooks, eagle feather quills and empty pots of ink at Lysander's feet. A dark smile spread across Scorpius's face as he watched the scene unfold before him exactly as he'd planned it. Just as he'd anticipated, Rose immediately jumped to Lysander's aid as they both crouched to the ground and collected the conglomeration of school-related items, but Scorpius knew that this small window of opportunity in which the recently turn of events had the two of them preoccupied would be over quickly. He turned his attention now to Rose's bag, still hanging innocently from the fence's post. Since Rose's back was to it and Lysander's eyes were fixated on the ground where his belongings were scattered, Scorpius concentrated as best he could over the roar of blood pounding in his ears and used a summoning charm to whisk her bag into his grasp as quickly and quietly as possible. It reached him in a matter of seconds, but once he had it in his possession the possibility that Scamander might have noticed a medium-sized bag magically floating into the thicket of woods at the side of the road filled him with dread. To his intense satisfaction and relief, neither of them seemed to notice the bag's disappearance as they focused their efforts on picking up the items which had fallen and Scamander pulled out his wand so that he could mend his bag.
Scorpius wasn't entirely in the clear yet, unfortunately. If his plan was going to work, he had to count on the fact that Rose was terribly unobservant of her surroundings and thus wouldn't notice that her bag had seemingly vanished into thin air. Scorpius knew that she wasn't very in tune with her environment and was more likely to notice discrepancies in one's argumentation or logic rather than her physical surroundings, however there was still the nerve-wracking possibility that her senses would be heightened after the incident with Lysander's bag and alerting her of the disappearance of her own. To Scorpius's good fortune, however, once everything had been carefully stored away back into Lysander's possession and they turned their backs to Scorpius again, Rose didn't show even an inkling of awareness with regards to the sudden lack of her purse. Scorpius was so surprised and exulted his plan had worked that he almost blew it all right then and there when he had to suppress a maniacal sort of laugh which bubbled up from his chest and would have escaped if he hadn't pressed his hands against his mouth. He slung Rose's bag over his shoulder and suddenly grunted at its' sheer weight – what on earth was she lugging around all day? A quick peek into its contents told him the heaviness was due mostly in part to several thick volume books stuffed unceremoniously into it. Scorpius knew that she liked reading well enough, but did she really have to carry around an entire library everywhere she went? Scorpius almost laughed aloud at the hilarity of it. Leave it to Rose Weasley to bring A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot into Hogsmeade on a weekend when everybody else was trying so desperately to distance themselves from school and homework. Scorpius could imagine her trying to justify herself in his mind's eye, her arms crossed over her chest and that defensive wrinkle of her nose; 'I just brought it in case I fancied a bit of light reading!' Scorpius wasn't sure why this brought an inexorable smile to his face, but he tried not to read too far into it and instead focused his efforts on remaining unseen to his prey and executing the next phase of his plan; waiting.
Eventually the two seemed to bore of the view, or each other, or both, but regardless of the reason they began to stir restlessly and turned around to make their way back into the heart of town. This very moment would determine the effectuality of Scorpius's plan, for should she suddenly became aware of the disappearance of her bag it would no doubt spoil everything. She and Lysander would stay and look around until they grew suspicious and Scorpius would have to steal away as best he could before they could discover his presence. To Scorpius's delight, however, Rose continued on the way she had been before, totally and completely oblivious to her surroundings as usual. She didn't so much as look back as she and Lysander began to stroll back into the streets of Hogsmeade, and Scorpius held his breath when they passed by his hiding spot, heart freezing for what felt like the millionth time that day when Rose paused right outside his crouched position as though once again she could feel him watching her. Soon however she visibly shook it off and joined her friend again, so that Scorpius was able to sigh a breath of relief. Glancing at his watch told him that the students had about an hour of time left before they were to be back inside the castle grounds, and if all went well Rose would eventually realize she'd misplaced her bag and retrace her steps back to the Shrieking Shack, where Scorpius would be lying in wait. Scorpius had no doubt that when she finally pulled her head out of the clouds long enough to take inventory of her possessions that she would insist her friend stay back while she went to get it; her fierce thirst to prove herself as an independent woman ensured that. What Scorpius was more worried about was that she wouldn't realize it was gone at all, in which case he would be loitering about creepily in a forest for an hour freezing his arse off for absolutely nothing. He had to believe in the integrity of his plan, however, lest he go mad. So, he waited. And as he did, he had a lot of unwanted time to reflect on his current predicament. He realized with a pang that this was the second time he'd stalked – followed – Rose Weasley. Scorpius suppressed a grimace. With any luck, this would also be the last time, depending on whether everything went according to plan.
Rose
After Rose and Lysander left the Three Broomsticks, Malfoy's grey eyes etched into Rose's consciousness like a menacing mirage hovering over her, their otherwise pleasant walk to the Shrieking Shack was darkened by the strangest sensation that they were being watched, a feeling that Rose couldn't shake off despite her best efforts. She knew she was probably mad to think so, and therefore never brought up her ominous intuition to Lysander (who seemed as casual and nonchalant as ever) even though at times as they strolled through the street a little voice in the back of her mind told her to glance over her shoulder every few paces. The town was so clogged with students goofing around and residents going about their everyday routines whilst trying to ignore the rowdy teenagers that had invaded their home that Rose wouldn't have been able to catch their stalker even if they'd been hiding in plain sight. Eventually she was peering over her shoulder so often that it drew Lysander's attention, who shot her a quizzical look. Rose hurriedly pretended to rummage through her bag whilst covertly peeking behind them into the thinning crowd. Lysander studied her curiously and asked if she was alright, to which Rose had to tell a white lie. So she tried to ignore the alarms firing off in her brain and attempted at light, casual conversation with her friend on a beautiful day in Hogsmeade, and for a while, she almost felt at ease.
The feeling did not last very long before she was jumping at shadows again.
Fortunately, once they had gotten to the outskirts of Hogsmeade and were standing in front of the fence that barricaded students and townspeople from the Shack the feeling diminished albeit slightly, and Rose released the tension she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying with her since they'd left the Three Broomsticks. Something about the old dilapidated building made her feel as though she were gazing upon a memory from a dream. She imagined what it would look like on the inside, and marveled at the thought of her parents' and uncle's adventure in their third year when they'd ventured into the 'haunted' house. Her father had told her so many stories involving the various shenanigans and misadventures that he, Rose's mother, and Harry Potter had gotten into when they had been kids that when Rose prepared to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time, she'd expected to have the same dangerous, crazy experiences as her older family members when she arrived at the castle. Although the glamour of Hogwarts never ceased to amaze her and it would always be her home away from home, she hadn't been on any extravagant quests or adventures like her parent's had which had been, for a time, a disappointing but sobering fact. After third year she'd even complained to her father about the lack of wild, high-stake adventures that happened at school, but he had just laughed and ruffled her hair affectionately. "That's not such a bad thing, Rosie. Take it from me." When her father had told her this, Rose had been disappointed even further and hadn't believed him, being still very young and naïve, living in the shadow of her parent's colossal achievements and garnering some very high expectations as the eldest daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. After she'd done a bit of growing up, however, and she reflected back on the stories her parents told her about their experiences during the war and even the conflicts that occurred at Hogwarts she realized the effects and trauma many of them had left upon the victims. She knew that her father still sometimes woke in a cold sweat, muttering about imaginary giant spiders and every once in a while, when setting the table for dinner or simply walking through the orchard with her mother, Hermione Granger-Weasley would simply zone out without explanation and had to be shaken and called for repeatedly before she was pulled out of the spell. Whenever Rose asked her mother where she went during these episodes, a blank expression passed over her face and she brushed it off with a sudden change of subject, but Rose could tell that the memories were anything but fond. So Rose had come to be grateful for the ordinary, unspectacular existence at Hogwarts that her parents and friends had fought so hard and sacrificed so much to give to their children.
She and Lysander didn't speak of this, although it always managed to run through Rose's mind anytime her eyes fell on the Shrieking Shack. She had almost forgotten the unnatural vibes she'd been getting as she looked upon the house's crumbing walls, however after Lysander's bag unexplainably split and dumped all of its contents onto the ground, the ominous feeling settled upon her again. She helped him clean it up whilst the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, but still she could find no evidence to explain her unease and so kept her mouth shut until they decided to head back to Hogwarts, Lysander complaining that he had an arithmancy test to study for. Admittedly Rose would have to study for the same test and so followed in his wake as he led the way back into town.
As they began the long walk back however Rose was sure she'd seen an unnatural glint of silver reflecting out of a thicket of wood not far from where the Shrieking Shack stood, neglected and decaying, and tugged at Lysander's sleeve. She paused and Lysander stopped a few paces ahead of her, his face morphing into a mask of confusion.
"What's up with you, Rose? You've been acting… skittish this past hour." Rose hardly even registered what he was saying as she stared into the wood, trying to see through the densely packed trees for the glimmer of silver, but it had gone, and all she saw hidden away in its depths was a small squirrel burying something in the dirt. She shook her head as if to shake it of her delinquencies, wondering if she was truly going mad.
She turned back to Lysander and tried for a smile. "Oh, it's nothing. Just… nervous about the arithmancy test, that's all." Rose lied quickly, cringing as the words left her mouth. She wasn't even sold by her own made up excuse, let alone Lysander as he continued to scrutinize her with worry written all over his face. Eventually he seemed to dismiss it, to Rose's immense relief.
"Well, don't worry. We'll hurry back to the castle to study," he promised sincerely. Rose had to pause and collect herself for a moment as wave after wave of unprecedented emotions hit her with regards to her friend; gratefulness, relief, guilt, confusion, and yes, attraction. She tried to figure out whether love was wrapped up somewhere in the mix but there were too many other feelings fighting for dominance to even attempt to separate them. So she smiled and followed Lysander back into town, forgetting about the glint of silver in the wood.
They were already three quarters of the way back to Hogwarts when Rose realized she'd somehow misplaced her bag.
Shite!
Rose was in such an immense state of panic that any and all thoughts of her ghostly follower evaporated out of her mind as all of her efforts were concentrated toward figuring out where she'd lost her bag. It had everything in it; several of her books (including her favourite copy of A History of Magic), her best eagle feather quill, all of her class notes and homework, and – bloody hell – her wand! A thrill of nausea flooded her stomach as Lysander tried to calm her.
"We'll retrace our steps! Don't worry, Rose, I'm sure we'll find it," Lysander assured her. Rose tried to take deep breaths in order to calm her racing heart, but she appreciated her friend's support and positivity. "Look, we have an hour or so before we're meant to be back at the castle. We can check every place we visited and be back at Hogwarts in no time."
Beneath the numbness Rose felt herself mechanically shake her head. "No… Lysander, you don't have to do that. You have to study for the arithmancy test. And besides, we don't have as much time as you're proposing. I'll go alone. I'm sure I must have left it at the Three Broomsticks or by the Shrieking Shack. You go on. I'll be fine."
Rose was turning to leave when Lysander ran in front of her and stood smack in the middle of her path, an indignant smile on his face. "Rose, you really think I'm going to let you wander off to the Shrieking Shack alone? I'm coming."
Rose sighed. Even though she truly appreciated Lysander's concern for her, she could take care of herself, and she didn't like his lack of trust in her. "Lysander, it's the middle of the afternoon! And besides, this is Hogsmeade we're talking about, not Knockturn Alley." Lysander frowned at Rose's protestations and folded his arms across his chest.
"Maybe it's not the people from Hogsmeade that I'm worried about." Lysander's statement was followed by a tension filled silence heavy with its implications. He rushed on, "And even so, you've seen some of the patrons at the Hog's Head. Not exactly a merry lot." Rose suppressed a shudder thinking about all the goblins and gnarled witches and wizards that frequented the late Aberforth Dumbledore's bar. "Rose, let me come with you. You're Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley's daughter for Merlin's sake, who knows what could happen –"
"That's why you think I won't be safe?" Rose bristled, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. "Because of my parents?" Rose could hardly believe Lysander had said that. He knew how she struggled to meet the standards and expectations that people automatically assigned to her just because of her parents' staggering legacies; she'd told him enough times how it was a constant source of stress in her life. And now he was saying she couldn't protect herself, and that people would want to attack her just to, what? Exploit her parents? Rose was frustrated – frustrated at Lysander for thinking she was so helpless, frustrated at herself for misplacing the bag in the first place, frustrated at the entire situation that had muddled up their friendship. She knew it was unfair of her to feel that way. And yet she couldn't bring herself to apologize for her anger, and shook Lysander's hand off when he placed it on her shoulder.
"Rose—"
"Lysander, I can handle myself. Go back to the castle, please. I'll be okay." She had tried to make her voice gentle but firm, and she avoided his eyes as she said it, gazing instead at his feet. Because of this she couldn't discern his expression, and she knew that if she looked up and saw the hurt in his eyes that her resolve would crumble and she'd apologize, which she didn't want to do. She managed to keep her eyes down, and after a moment had passed in which neither of them spoke, Lysander sighed.
"Fine. I'll be in the common room when you get back." His voice was uncharacteristically stony, and Rose chanced a glance up to read his expression, which was as devoid of any emotion as the words that had come out of his mouth. Rose mirrored his demeanour and nodded curtly before she walked around him and started along the path that would take her back to Hogsmeade.
As she walked, the sound of Lysander's voice calling her name caused her to pause and glance over her shoulder. He was standing with his shoulders slouched and hands deep in his pockets. She waited, placing a hand on her hip. He looked as though he wanted to say something important or even apologize, but in the end he just muttered, "Be safe, Rose," before turning around and continuing back up the path to Hogwarts. Rose watched him go for a second, the guilt already beginning to settle in and make her want to run back to him and apologize. But she didn't.
And the start of this day had been so pleasant.
Her fight with Lysander continued to gnaw away at Rose's heart as she trudged back into the town, finding herself suddenly in front of the Three Broomsticks for the second time that day. Her feet had carried her mechanically and she hadn't even noticed that she was back in Hogsmeade, too wrapped up in her guilt to even register her surroundings. But another voice in her head, a small defiant one that sounded oddly like her mother cried in protest. Lysander was concerned about her safety. That part Rose could wrap her head around, even though she wished he had a bit more trust in her. But the fact that he'd dragged her parents into it, even after she'd always expressed how much she wanted to be independent and break free from the expectations and impossible standards everybody she met held for her because of them; that she couldn't accept. Not yet, at least.
It wasn't that Rose wasn't fiercely proud and immensely grateful of her parent's achievements and the huge part they'd played in overthrowing Voldemort – how could she not be, after all they'd gone through and suffered to give her the life she had? There wasn't a day that passed that Rose didn't feel love and gratitude for her parents and family and everybody else who had aided in Voldemort's eventual demise. But sometimes, the pressure of being their daughter made her feel as though she had to somehow force herself to be someone or something she simply wasn't, and more than anything she wanted to make her own way in life and achieve her own accomplishments without her parent's influence handing it to her on a silver platter. And if even her best friend didn't realize that, how would anyone else? She recognized only now that she may have overreacted, and had every intention to apologize to Lysander once she'd found her bag and returned to the castle.
With that in mind, Rose decided to set the problem of aside for the time being and resolve it later. At the moment she had to find her bag before somebody could take it.
She glanced at her watch, realizing that she really didn't have much time. She wracked her brain, trying to visualize where she would have left her bag – and in a flash of realization it struck her. She knew it wasn't in the Three Broomsticks because she'd used it as a way of throwing Lysander off her trail when she'd gotten the sensation they were being followed. And then… she'd hung it on the fence outside the Shrieking Shack! It all made sense. Rose had been so preoccupied with helping Lysander mend his bag and collect his things that she had forgotten about her own. But thinking about all the bizarre incidents that had occurred that day at the same time gave Rose a nasty feeling that something was definitely wrong. Regardless she ignored her instinctual gut reactions and took off down the street that would take her to the Shrieking Shack as fast as her legs could carry her. Any amount of people could have passed by her bag from the time Rose and Lysander had left until now, so she prayed with every step she took that it would still be there on the fence when she arrived.
What she saw when she arrived was enough to knock her back several steps in surprise.
Running was not Rose's forte, and so the continuous jog from the Three Broomsticks to the edge of Hogsmeade had left a burning stitch in her side as she sucked in rapid, shallow breaths. But when she saw none other than Scorpius Malfoy leaning against the fence between the Shrieking Shack and the road almost as if he'd been waiting for her, her bag clutched in his hand, she nearly fainted from the strangeness of it all.
Fortunately she managed to hold her ground, and struggling up through the chaotic thoughts swirling inside her head burst out one single, unbridled emotion – fury.
"Scorpius Malfoy!" she shouted, suddenly gaining an extra spurt of energy from the dose of adrenaline that began to course through her veins. "You – I –" she fumbled, unable to even articulate the anger she felt bubbling up inside her chest and threatening to explode. "That's my bag!"
Malfoy didn't appear fazed in the least, an easy grin snaking its way across his haughty, regal features as he dangled the bag teasingly. "Well done, Weasley. For once in your life you've used your eyes for something other than cramming seven hundred pages of useless information into your pretty little head."
Rose was momentarily stunned by Scorpius's choice in wording, and for a moment the anger dulled just enough to make room for confusion and curiosity. It seemed to Rose that even Malfoy was taken aback by his own choice of adjective, his eyebrows pulling together for a moment and mouth curling. Then in a second it was gone, replaced with his usual teasing expression. Rose stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Why had Scorpius called her head pretty? She just couldn't wrap said head around it, and so she immediately grew defensive and suspicious, drawing the walls up before he could catch her off guard.
She was eventually able to collect her scattered thoughts, and when she did all the pieces of the puzzle that had been the last several hours finally clicked. The feeling of unease she just couldn't shake, the glint of silver she'd noticed in the wood, Lysander's bag ripping and Rose's own disappearing – it had been Malfoy, all along. Rose could have kicked herself. She'd let herself get mad at Lysander for something as ridiculous as Malfoy's childish ploys. She scowled and pointed at him accusingly, but he showed no visible signs of distress. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying this all too much. "How long were you stalking us, Malfoy? Since the Three Broomsticks? Or was it even earlier than that?"
Something flickered across Scorpius's face for a moment but was gone in an instant, leaving Rose to wonder if it had really happened at all or she'd merely imagined it. Otherwise he continued to exude an almost too subdued aura of nonchalance, although Rose noticed with a hint of satisfaction that the knuckles he had wrapped around the strap of her purse were even whiter than usual. "Look, Weasley, I've no idea what you're talking about. Honestly." He manipulated his face into a gimmicky mask of innocence that might have convinced Rose if the muscle by his temple wasn't jumping. "I was just in Hogsmeade with some friends and decided to visit the Shrieking Shack when I happened upon this bag – bringing us to this moment, when you marched up to me like some redheaded hair demon and accused me of, what? Stalking you?" Malfoy snorted derisively and, to Rose's immense surprise, tossed her bag into her arms. She caught it and eyed him warily, her level of suspicion only heightening. What was he doing?
"Yes, Malfoy, if you could get it through that thick skull of yours you would have heard me the first time. You were stalking Lysander and I!"
"But Weasley," he said, taking a step toward her and lowering his gaze, almost… seductively? "You have no proof."
Rose made a sound of disbelief and took a step away from him, scowling. None of this was adding up. She gave him a cold, pointed glare before opening the zipper of her bag and taking quick inventory of its contents. It seemed as though everything was there, and indeed in their proper place, the way she'd left it. Rose frowned and zipped up the bag with a feverish burst of anger and, unexpected to all parties involved including herself, began to use it as a weapon.
"You – evil – bloody – git!" between each word she swung the bag at a different part of Scorpius's body, however her attempted hits must not have affected the boy seeing as he had begun to laugh hysterically as opposed to cower in fear. Eventually he caught the handle of her bag and stilled her arms, and although his expression remained light, when Rose's eyes met his she saw that they were steely and hard as ice.
"Merlin, Weasley!"
"What do you want from me?" Rose cried in exasperation, wrenching herself free from Scorpius's grasp as the night after the library flashed yet again across her mind. She was so utterly consumed by anger, confusion and disgust she wasn't even sure how to separate any of them. Oh, god. "Lysander was right. It wasn't the people of Hogsmeade I should have been worried about." She hadn't realized that she said the words aloud, and another spurt of guilt plagued her when she thought about how she'd dismissed Lysander.
"What?" Scorpius asked, seemingly having caught Rose's muttered, out-of-context statement. He put his hands up in surrender and even took a step back, as though giving her some space. He arranged his features into what someone who'd never met him might have taken as an honest expression, but Rose knew better. "What do I want from you? You're the one who just tried to bludgeon me to death with your bloody bag! You know what that thing is filled with? Books. Those don't feel very good when thrown repeatedly against you!"
Rose snorted in disbelief and shook her head. "Oh, save it. It's not like you were complaining."
Scorpius grinned wolfishly. "You're right. You know, you're really quite a weakling." The insult would have stung if it hadn't come from him. Luckily nothing Scorpius Malfoy had to say could affect Rose. "Listen, now that we're here together, I might as well be honest. I did follow you –"
"Aha! I knew it!" Rose was so exhilarated that she'd been right about him all along that she didn't even think to feel violated by this confession.
"…but…" Scorpius paused as if for dramatic effect. "Not with the intentions you undoubtedly suspect." Rose frowned, livid and disgusted by the fact that she'd been stalked through town by Scorpius Malfoy, but also unable to suppress the curiosity that sprang from his ambiguous words. She waited for him to continue, cautious. "If you had just let me explain instead of attempted to murder me –" Rose huffed at his theatrics – "I would have been able to tell you that I just wanted to apologize for being such a prat to you all these years."
Rose stared at him, dumbfounded. She had thought just minutes ago that nothing Scorpius said could affect her. Now she'd been proven wrong. She shook her head and stared at him, perplexed. "You – apologize? To me?" Rose scoffed shaking her head in disbelief. "Well, you're doing a fat good job of it, aren't you? Stalking someone – twice – and calling them a weakling is a great way to preface an apology." Sarcasm dripped from her tone.
A muscle jumped in Scorpius's jaw as though he were suppressing something, but otherwise he remained emphatic. "Look, Rose –" the use of her first name jarred her so much that she almost didn't catch what he said next – "just give me a chance to explain. I've been wanting to apologize for a while now. I want to make it up to you somehow." Rose stared at him. He eyed her hair and grinned. "Maybe I'll start by buying you a hairbrush seeing as you clearly don't own one." And then, in a moment of pure shock, he reached forward and attempted to brush a lock of Rose's thick curly hair behind her ear, causing her to immediately flinch back, so taken aback by his gesture that the world began to spin. Scorpius sighed and raised his hands up again as if in surrender. "Easy, Weasley. I don't bite."
What? How was he saying this, as though the night outside the library hadn't even happened? Rose was beginning to see red again. "No," she said coldly, "I know you don't bite; you're all bark. Me, on the other hand… how's that lip healing up?" she was surprised by the savagery in her own tone, but somehow exhilarated at the same time when his expression morphed from demeaning mockery to abject resentment. His mouth curled into his infamous sneer and Rose felt a little thrill of excitement – and immediately thereafter felt sickened by her response.
He grit his teeth, and the muscle at his jaw jumped distractingly. His silvery eyes were now cloudy as though a storm was brewing in his irises and a pale, pink flush had ignited on his face, illuminating his high cheekbones and straight, slender nose. Rose forced herself to look away, suddenly nervous. Or afraid. Or both.
"Weasley," he said through a clenched jaw, "Listen. I told you that I just want to apologize, and you're making it really difficult!"
"Why do you want to apologize in the first place, Malfoy?" Rose cried, her voice an octave higher than usual and squeaky even in her own ears. "And if you wanted to apologize to me, why the hell did you stalk me like some predator instead of just approaching me like any normal, functioning human being would?!"
Scorpius scowled. "Oh, yes, you would absolutely love that, wouldn't you Weasley?" Rose shot him an infuriatingly quizzical look. "Oh, don't play stupid. Don't even deny that you'd relish in the opportunity to throw my apology back in my face with all your little friends as a witness to your superiority over me. You left me no other choice! I knew that if I tried to approach you while you were in the company of your posse that you'd never so much as think about hearing me out. In regards to why I want to apologize, quite frankly it's exhausting to have to act like I hate you all the time even though I don't! It's tiresome being your enemy. Hasn't the animosity gotten old yet? Because I think it's boring and tedious and unnecessary as shite." Scorpius spat. Rose paused, digesting his words. She was truly at a loss for what to say, her mind utterly boggled by his confession. After a brief pause he added, "And plus I get along swimmingly with Albus, and he's Harry Potter's son, so why shouldn't I get along with you?"
"Albus gets along with everyone," was all Rose could think to say, although her voice wasn't as venomous as it had been previously. She was suddenly overcome with a wave of fatigue as the weight of the events that had occurred that day crashed down upon her. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, so confused and upset she didn't even know what to think anymore. "Why is this happening now? What sort of sick, sadistic game are you playing with me, Malfoy?"
Scorpius was saved the task of responding when a voice called Rose's name. Her head snapped to the direction of the sound and suddenly seized by some unidentifiable emotion Rose watched as Lysander ran down the path toward her, his dirty blond hair windblown and chest puffing. He slowed when he saw Scorpius, still standing behind Rose with his arms folded across his chest defensively. The expression of utter confusion and perplexity that passed over Lysander's face perfectly captured the way Rose was feeling inside. And her state of aporia had deepened even further now that both Lysander and Scorpius were together, within the same few meters of one another, staring the other down with suspicion alight in their eyes. And Rose in between them.
How very metaphoric, Rose thought bitterly.
"Rose, what's… what's he doing here?" Lysander's inquiry came out more as a flat sentence than a question, and Rose cringed. How would she explain this one? Would she tell Lysander that Scorpius had followed them from the Three Broomsticks, ripped his bag, and hidden hers? Should she? Rose glanced fast as lightning at Scorpius in the hopes of discerning his expression, however when he looked upon Lysander his features were arranged into a perfectly calculated mask of stone.
"He…" Rose faltered and Scorpius suddenly caught her eye and held her gaze, his expression… softening? Pleading? No. That couldn't be right. Rose forced herself to look away before Lysander could grow suspicious. She turned. "Scorpius found my bag. He was just returning it to me." What? Why had she just lied for Scorpius Malfoy? What was she thinking?
She dared not look at Malfoy for fear that the sight of him would break what little sanity she had left and instead focused on Lysander, whose expression had shifted but still contained a high degree of suspicion. "Oh." There was a pause then where all three were silent. The two boys were refusing to look at one another but Rose could feel the palpable tension in the air. "Rose, I went to left the castle the second I got there and went to the Three Broomsticks to try and find you, but…" he froze, as if he had momentarily forgotten about Malfoy's presence and had only remembered it now. "Er, I need to… to talk to you. Privately." Lysander shot her a look and Rose nodded weakly.
"Of course," she said. Realizing that at some point during her conversation with Malfoy she had apparently dropped her bag, she stooped to pick it up and slung it across her shoulder. As she rose, however, she froze when she noticed that Scorpius had suddenly moved in close to her and bent to whisper in her ear.
"Thanks, Rose," he hissed, sending a shiver down Rose's spine. What kind of shiver she couldn't tell, which worried her to no end. "And by the way, that 'sick, sadistic game' you asked about? It's been going on for six years now. In fact, you invented it yourself. And you and I both know that you love to play."
With those last swiftly muttered, chilling words, he pulled away as though nothing had even happened, flashed her a contrived smile, and took off at a brisk pace down the path heading into Hogsmeade without looking back even once.
A/N: This chapter is a bit longer than the others, but I enjoyed writing it and hope all you lovely followers, favouriters and reviewers enjoyed reading it, too! I made this one longer due to the fact that I may not get the chance to update tomorrow or the next day since I'll be away in a place where I very likely won't have access to the Internet, so my apologies in advance. However I will still be writing throughout the duration of my stay and will update as soon as I get back.
Thank you for reading, as always! It means the world to me.