That is most definitely the last time I let Alice convince me, or rather force my hand in drinking a generous volume of mead. Ok, that's a downright lie. She'd managed to cheer me up no end before we got to Honeyduke's so I now know that's a good way to go about lifting our spirits if required in the future. If I hadn't dragged Alice away from Honeyduke's I am fairly certain she would have spent all her inheritance at once on pepper imps. A sweet she became addicted to at an early age. She had been insisting that they would be a stock of constant warmth en route back up to the castle. In her merriment she'd eaten half a dozen too many and could only manage to cough out small amounts of black smoke as we arrived back up at the castle. I wouldn't have said she enjoyed the last stint of the trip, having resembled the appearance of a rather dazed looking, dirty blonde dragon hatchling.

She made every attempt to distract me from the additional conference between Malfoy and I, including even an attempt to juggle dumpings during dinner. It's surprising how quickly she sobered up when McGonagall strode over during our fits of giggles to inform us that sixth years usually behave and are indeed expected to behave with a tad more maturity.

Once I left her in the Entrance Hall with a friendly hug and a punch on the arm for good measure, I headed up to Gryffindor tower. Here, I am currently residing amongst a stack of Transfiguration notes regarding my copy of Advancement in Modern Human Transfiguration with growing distaste; it truly is an exceptionally dry read. Albus turned up about ten minutes ago to work on the same essay due in on Tuesday. He came in looking rather exhausted. Apparently there was some heated debate about the state of my loins. A conversation he'd overheard in Zonko's earlier today that had landed him in detention.

"But Al, you could have just ignored it."

"You know full well you would never tell Alice to just let it go," says Albus rather coolly.

"She'd never bloody listen that's why!" I exclaim, almost amused. "I'm not worth getting a detention over Albus."

"You're my cousin Rose. As far as I'm concerned, this whole thing has been blown way out of proportion. I'm certainly not going to sit there and listen to a bunch of seventh years pretty much verbally leer over you because of it."

"I didn't want you getting into trouble though." I sign turning to a page in my book that is thankfully covered in a pictorial scheme of wand movement rather than dense text. Albus tugs a tatty looking quill from his bag and begins chewing on the end.

"It's was Neville who caught me anyway. He was definitely more lenient than he would have been on anyone else. I like to think it was because it was some pretty impressive spell work he witnessed." He sits back in his chair, a small smile twitching at his lips his eyes shining smugly.

"Why? What did you do?" I ask, easily distracted from my work this evening.

"I may or may not have successfully transfigured the bottom half of Toby Marten's face to resemble that of a horse." He avoided my eyes, as the satisfied smile now rather apparent on his face. I'm well aware that this is beyond anything I've yet managed in human transfiguration and just stare on incredulously. Albus continues in a rather blaze fashion in between feigning the biting of his nails, "The sheer accuracy of the transformation, is another factor as to why he didn't give me a more severe punishment. In my humble opinion of course."

I close my book in shock. "If that's the case then you can help me write this damn essay!" He rolls his eyes and fixes me with that bright green stare, alight with youth and merth.

"That's the best piece of wand work I've ever pulled off and you're worried about your essay?" he asks over his spectacles. I realise now, that my first gut reaction, the one that normally gets me into trouble, the one where I say things without thinking often makes me sound rather selfish a lot of the time.

"Sorry Al. That really is some impressive stuff. Honestly. I haven't managed anything that isn't just to do with hair; facial, head hair or otherwise." Albus sits back in his chair, nibbling his quill again.

"In all honesty, I hadn't even practised that before. I was just so infuriated with him I just did it. And it worked. Most of Zonko's got to see it before Neville rushed him back to the castle." I grin wickedly at him. This admission is classic Al. Tries to be the arrogant spell monger and kills it by being brutally honest. He had me fooled. That's some seriously difficult magic.

"Well thank you for defending my honour, as always." I admit, opening my book again to the previous page.

Thankfully we settle into work for a while. We pass general studious mumblings between us, but otherwise we're both quite focused compared to the usual state of affairs when Albus and I work in the same space. It's usually filled with obnoxiously mundane chatter to avoid working for as long as possible. It's been almost seventeen years (fourteen if you count how long it took for us to have a verbal conversation) of interactions that are often based around nonsense. Growing up home schooled you have to find the fun in anything to get out of learning arithmetic at a muggle high school level thanks to my mother.

A few students have come and gone over the last few hours and I swear I caught sight of a house elf putting another log on the fire, but it could have been a trick of the light. Some of the students have sent me curious or fleeting glances as they've strolled past, barely minding their own business. It is however, sincerely less explicit than it was at the start of the week.

Their mutterings promote a different distraction of work. They remind me of the weeks tumultuous events giving me reason to dwell on them. After the encounter with Malfoy this afternoon I feel like I've got this new lease of life. I won't lie to you, or myself. Yes, of course I'm disappointed. Malfoy is a hell of a catch. He's intelligent, well spoken, unlike what most people think he's rather charming rather than the presumed letchy persona. I'd personally misjudged his confidence for arrogance before getting to know him. And that smile will continue to melt girl's hearts; they just won't be mine. My gut twists at the memory of his eyes darkened in the dimly green lit corridor. I have to try and put those thoughts aside. Alice was spot on. As flings (as short lived as they can possibly be) go, it was certainly fun. I'm not waiting around for him. I'd really hoped he could put all this gossip bullshit aside as he also seemed to be rather enjoying my company as much as I was his.

Of course I have plenty of things to attempt to distract myself with. This Transfiguration essay needs doing for a start. Then it'll soon be Christmas and a few weeks for people to make their own stories to tell and spread come the spring term and New Year.

I turn my gaze to the window where flurries of snow drift by in the night air against the darkest black sky. White flecks collect in the metal weaving between the glass panes, visibly suggesting that winter is certainly here. The fact that I'm wearing a double jumper layer could also have told you that. Some third years are playing gobstones in front of the fire while a fifth year girl is plaiting her friend's hair following a sheet of parchment detailing instructions that she's pinned to the notice board. It's this surveying of the room that unfortunately leads me to lock eyes with Patricia.

It appears a shock to me as much as it does to her as her eyes widen and her face pales. I've not seen her since this debacle began, other than in class, and then she's made no attempt to acknowledge me. It has been difficult to consolidate my anger towards her as a person in this way, especially with almost every other mouth that's opened in my direction has been questioning something she started. Trying to hush the crowd to get to the instigator has proven fruitless. Most of my energy has been going into trying to set people straight after all, rather than aggravate the situation further. Perhaps it was a good thing our paths hadn't crossed.

I notice she's rather dressed up for a stroll to the Owlery at this time of night. She's wearing a pale blue cardigan, skirt, thick woollen tights topped off with her Gryffindor scarf. She starts fiddling uncomfortably with the tassels at the loose end of her scarf. I'm rather pleased that our silent exchange of looks is making her uncomfortable. She is, after all the one to blame for this. She could have kept her mouth shut. She drops my gaze, but instead of heading to the portrait hall she makes a move towards the table Albus and I are working at.

I must have gasped in shock when she began walking in our direction as something caused Albus to look up sharply at me and then follow my gaze over to her. He seemed to notice her gait appearing apprehensive as she approached, moving to look back at his work looking rather displeased. He glances over his glasses at me and I just shrug in response, completely confused as to what's going on.

Patricia stops about three feet in arm distance away from either of us. I could congratulate her on this being a rather sensible move, but instead I just stare at her blankly. She seems does seem genuinely uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot twisting her hands in front of her chest.

"What do you want?" Albus speaks up coldly, without looking at her. She blinks a few times at Albus' mop of hair and sets her face steady.

"I, uh-" she stutters, shattering the composed façade she's attempting to pull off. I'm still staring in disbelief that she's stood in front of me as if she's done something as innocent as lose my Charms notes. Although I'd still be rather pissed off at this I wouldn't also feel the urge to hex her into oblivion as I do now. That my friends is reserved for a personal slight.

The silence that stretches as she continues to fumble with her scarf is taut. I open my mouth and close it a few times; something that I'm quite sure makes me look rather dumb in all fairness. I feel it's a rather warranted response in the situation. Albus finally sets down his quill and moves to face her. She flinches backwards a foot or so before attempting to stand straight once again and not cower and run out of the portrait hole.

"Patricia, if this is how you apologise for being a colossal bitch then I'd probably give you a "T"." I hear Albus say although I'm still looking intently at her, curious as to if she'll say what clearly drove her in our direction in the first place. I turn to face him sharply; that sort of tone isn't usually one I'd associate with Albus. It's acidic and biting and Patricia, if at all possible looks even more shocked by this than her own prolonged silence.

"Yeah-" she begins, taking a deep breath and fixing Albus with a stare that I'm sure is intended to be unwavering but she's blinking far too rapidly, "I am apologising. I mean I want to apologise." She corrects herself looking between us now. Mine and Albus' eyes lock momentarily before we both look back to Patricia. Her eyes look a little less frantically between the two of us. I'm not sure what she wants from me, but if she's after a lecture as to all the reasons she should be apologising I'm happy to oblige. Finally I find my voice and utter what has actually been playing on my mind for the sometime.

"I'm not really the one you should be apologising to Patricia." I admit, against my better judgement. Yes she's essentially destroyed what could have been the start of something rather tangibly beautiful, but she's almost recreated the rift between Malfoy's and Weasley's, exaggerated through a simple lie. Something I certainly thought had died a death at the turn of the millennium. Albus gives me a perplexed look.

"I'm serious Patricia." She opens and closes her mouth. Seeing her do this confirms how freaking stupid it looks.

"I half expected all the gossip. I knew if it got out before it was anything serious and the extent of whatever it was between us wasn't yet mutually understood it would no doubt be blown out of proportion so fast we wouldn't be able to control it." Her eyes flashed with something I hope was regret. I'm horribly reminded of her smirking at me as I stood with sopping wet hair in front of the portrait hole having had the time of my life and her words making my happiness evapourate instantly. This thought riles me and I continue with enforced vigour.

"What did you think would happen? That people would just let it lie? Accept that the daughter of war heroes was fraternising with the son of their supposed enemy. Well news flash Patrcia. We live in 21st century wizarding Britain, had there been context and an explanation it might have gone a lot more smoothly and you wouldn't have completely fucked up whatever it was for the two of us."

"I didn't realise it was anything serious," uttered Patricia in a very small voice. I'm rather satisfied that she finally sounds guilty for what she's caused. Albus flashes me yet another questioning look but quickly returns his gaze back to her.

"That's between us don't you think?" I say my voice rising an octave. The third years by the fire have stopped playing gobstones in favour of watching this rather heated interaction. Her face creases uncomfortably. "And what about Scorpius?" her face flushes at the mention of his name and she better be damn sure it's embarrassment and not fond memories as I'm starting to get rather worked up.

"He's faced umpteen members of my intrusive family suggesting he's a disciple of his grandfather which is about as far removed from the truth as could be. You went out with the bloke for Godric's sake Patricia," it hurts me to admit that out loud, but I'm quite literally on a role and can't seem to focus on one thread. Too many thoughts and feelings are swirling around within my person it's becoming increasingly difficult to not just crumple into a heap on the floor, assume the foetal position and just remain like that until things subside. "You can't have gone out with him thinking he's some evil Slytherin plotting our demise or something equally as preposterous? He's now being painted as a man who mistreats women and is thoroughly untrustworthy. It's so unfair how he's been portrayed because of some little bit of gossip that's got out of hand. What the fuck did you even say to James anyway?" My voice cracks and Albus reaches over to squeeze my arm reassuringly. I take a breath trying to calm my anger and frustration.

"How can you have tainted a really decent bloke's reputation unless you sewed a few lies into the mix."

"I didn't actually," she says defensively. I look at her incredulously and she's looking back like butter wouldn't melt in her damn mouth. Albus tightens his grip on my arm. He can probably see the Weasley rage flash in my eyes, which is a dangerous position to be in when I'm within reaching distance of my wand. My other hand twitches towards it on the table and Patricia's eyes instinctively grow, alarmed.

"Ok. Alright." She rings her hands again avoiding both our eyes. "I told him I'd found you behind the tapestry on the second floor. At it." The latter part of the sentence was unnecessary as her staring out of the snow covered window so she was looking anywhere but at us told me as much. Yes, feel guilty. You've created unnecessary heartache for no good reason.

Albus released by arm and turned his whole body to face her. Clearly unable to control himself either. The biggest flaw of the Potter-Weasley clan is that either on the surface or when tempted out of our shell we all become a little too head strong.

"Why'd you do this Trish? It's just purely vindictive to make someone's personal life privy to the whole school? How would you like it?" he asked threateningly. My chest tightened, he was right but I felt like this was turning into something that wouldn't exactly ease the gossip. Two against one in a verbal brawl in the common room would only be fuel for the fire. The eyes of those thirds years were positively dancing in the firelight, observing the situation that's currently playing out in stunned silence.

"It's ok Albus," I said, attempting to pry his focus away from burning a hole between Patricia's eyes. Yes I'm incredibly frustrated, but Albus has already got himself into trouble. And I'd rather protect him than give any more attention to Patricia than necessary. Some part of my brain clearly has a logical hold, thank god you're part Granger eh, Weasley. Albus merely shook his head. "It's not just me in this Albus, remember," I turn to her my voice hushed, but I'm unable to shake it's harshness. She's apologised and I'm not exactly in the mood to be centre of Hogwarts gossip for a second longer. I'd rather just sever all ties with this awkward and frankly pathetic state I currently find myself in. "I think you'd be better just leaving. You look like you have somewhere to be." It's a simple statement and she quite clearly notices my implication.

She looks between us briefly before heading for the door, not without another apology, "I am sorry, Rose. I didn't think it would be this big of a deal." Albus made a movement to get up.

"You heard her Trish. Just leave," growled Albus half raised off his chair his hands splayed out on the books in front of him. She seemed to finally get the hint, scurrying through the portrait hole and out of sight. I turn to Albus in earnest.

"You shouldn't have got angry Al. That one just then, that was my fight." I sigh and turn the umpteenth page in my book that I've paid no attention to.

"I am angry. It must be some wild jealousy or something that made her tell James. Anyone in Gryffindor would know that he's make a big deal about it. Just because he's the eldest of us still at school doesn't mean he gets a say in all our personal lives. What utter rubbish."

"What reason would she have to be jealous? She's the one that cheated on Scorpius in the first place." At this point I feel a faint feeling of guilt and irony poke in my chest. After all without my mouth running away with me none of this would have happened.

"Well either way, I'm glad she left," he picks up his quill for a brief moment, appears to read a line of his notes then throws down his quill with a sense of finality. "Agh! I'm far too worked up to concentrate on this. I might just call it a night and start off early tomorrow. The last two sentences I've written don't even make sense." He looks up at me apologetically.

"I get it Al, believe me. I've found it difficult to concentrate for days now. I've just been forcing myself through it."

"Christ Rosie, I'm not trying to make this about me or anything. I honestly just can't quite believe any of this. If you'd told me people we're still so single minded and believe such drivel, I'd have said you belonged in old Voldy's era." We share a look before bursting out laughing. The sound cutting through the tension easily.

"Voldy's era?" I gasp, banging the table in applause.

"I don't know what made me say it. It just makes the situation even more farcical than it already is."

"Do you think any of the Death Eaters were allowed to call him Voldy?" I ask jokingly as Albus starts to pack up his belongings.

"I doubt it. Can you imagine? He's have Avada-ed them into next week!" I chuckle, riffling through my copious stack of notes to find the reference I'd been looking for before Patricia turned up and completely redirected my distraction into unwanted territory.

"When's your detention by the way?"

"Tuesday evening with Neville in Greenhouse three. He mentioned something about rearranging the flora."

"It doesn't sound too terrible. I kind of wouldn't mind an excuse for an excursion away from places of heavy foot traffic. Like you know, the library, the common room, the corridors." I say, trying to make light of it. Albus tries to hide his pitying look but fails.

"All joking aside. I defended you because you're my cousin and I'd do that for any member of my family." He slings his book bag over his shoulder, almost decapitating a passing second year. "I don't regret getting that detention. Hopefully it'll set everyone straight that has been spreading nasty and distasteful rumours about you and Malfoy. And," he rolls up his sleeves subconsciously as if readying himself for my rebuttal, "I could tell when you spoke to me about this last week that you liked him. You didn't have to tell me explicitly. I know you. You'll play something down because you're afraid if you get excited something might get ruined. And in this case it kind of did, but it wasn't your doing at all. I said it already but it's his loss, Rose. And I really want you to come out of this knowing that." My heart swells and any argument I had dies on my lips. Again Albus shows me again why he's my uttermost favourite cousin and one of my best friends. Ever the honest, level headed one. He can read me like a book.

"I love you Al. You can tell everyone you're my favourite cousin. I really couldn't give a toss." I manage, smiling widely at him graciously.

"Don't mention it. I'll probably see you in the library tomorrow; I'll be working in the Transfiguration section."

"Thanks. Sleep well Albus." I say to his retreating back. He lifts a hand in fair well as usual, leaving me alone at the table and almost entirely alone in the common room.

I somehow manage to write one whole sheet of parchment before calling it quits for tonight. I'm very aware that most of what I've written I'll no doubt have to rewrite before I'm happy with it but it's a start. And most of the conceptual ideas I've discussed I'm content with. It must be nearing midnight by now as there is only me and a seventh year couple residing in the common room. Their giggles and murmurings may also be reason for me wanted to head up to the peaceful sanctuary of my dorm. I pack up my things slowly, yawning loudly as I do so. I tie my hair up as best I can but feel some loose strands fall back down to my collar. As I slowly ascend the stairs, arms full of books and notes, the weight of the day ebbs away slightly. If it hadn't been from the support of both Alice and Albus I'd probably have locked myself away a long time ago. Alice is probably right; I should get her something to show just how much I appreciate them for Christmas. I might have to ask my mum to send me a copy of the Wanderlust: For the Adventurous Wizards and Witches catalogue so I can make sure I can find and order something before the end of term. I've said it before and I'll say it again they really are superb friends. When did you turn so soft Weasley?

I finally manage to put my books away and organise my books for the following day spent in the library; I know, what a thrilling life I now lead without promising trysts or attempts at flying. On that note I might speak to Al about that tomorrow. I change into some tartan pajama bottoms, with a small vest and the usual Weasley jumper. I really know I shouldn't. I should just switch off or practice some simple spell work but no. I pick up that damn Advancement in Human Transfiguration text and flick through to the chapter I was reading most recently, because apparently I just don't have any desire to be happy. I tap the lamp on my bedside with my wand and extinguish the large overhead one, settling into bed under the warm glow.

I've read about two lines in this textbook and took in about two whole words and suddenly, BANG. There's this huge bang against the outer wall of the turret causing me to jump in shock and the textbook falls to the floor. The window frame is still quivering and I'm surprised the glass hasn't shattered. Perhaps Merlin is looking out for me. I'm almost certain even he; the great and powerful wizard himself would argue that no one should be reading a book written by Cornelius Modare as bedtime reading. That noise must have woken up the entirety of Gryffindor tower. I sit up straight for a moment, but I can only hear the sounds of the howling wind from outside.

Showing my true Gryffindor colours, I grab my wand from my bedside and toss the duvet off me before padding across the carpeted floor to the window. I can barely see anything through the white blur swirling amongst the darkness. My heartbeat increases about tenfold when I see a black figure that appears to be astride a broomstick flying against the wind to stay level with the window. All at once I feel pained curiosity at what the hell someone thinks they're doing on a broomstick outside in this weather, fear for them being battered off their broom and plummeting to their death, amongst confusion which could amount to me awarding a detention every night for the rest of the year because attempting a stunt so mind-blowingly dangerous and risky, even Harry Potter himself wouldn't have gone out of his way to do it.

The usual "think first, ask questions later" approach I've built over seventeen years of hard graft forces my arm to the window latch opening it inward helped by the force of the driving wind. I take a deep lungful of the freezing cold air before yelling out into the night, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

I can't even tell if they've heard me, if it is indeed a "they" and I've not gone completely batshit insane. I squint focusing the figures edges that're coming more into focus of the light spilling out of the open window. It's now I realise a little too late that they're hurtling towards said opening at an alarming rate. I duck beneath the ledge as the figure hurtles through the window and crashes into the drapes around the bed next to mine, ripping down the hangings and becoming completely entangled in them.

I instinctively point my wand at the struggling mess of ruby drapes, heart in my throat I hear myself breathe out, "what the hell?" If I didn't have an extremely strong grasp on my wand I probably would have dropped it when I heard a muffled yell that did sound distinctly human. "Yeguh caughd heeeghp!" I'm quite aware that my eyes must be bulging out of my skull right about now, and my hair is whipping around my face as the wind continues to rush through the open window scattering hundreds of snowflakes across the room. I blink a few times still merely watching the struggling figure before flicking my wand unfurling the drapes while pointing it in the general direction behind me I hear the window click on it's latch.

The drapes fall to the floor. I think my heart has literally stopped. Standing before me is a tall wizard specimen with windswept blond hair encrusted with snow, eyes wide and his almost-blue lips stretched across his face in the widest grin I've ever seen him wear. Scorpius Malfoy just flew in my bedroom window. I repeat; Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy just flew in through my bedroom window in the height of winter. I notice at this point the broomstick he flew in on is in fact hovering of it's own accord by my dressing table. This time I think it's actually happened, I've completely lost the ability of speech.

"Hey Weasley!" He says positively beaming at me, his lips regaining some of their usual colour. He doesn't seem aware that what he's just done is not as mundane as pouring yourself a glass of pumpkin juice with breakfast, but is in fact bizarre and absolutely ridiculous.

"You just…flew in…on a broomstick…through my window." I manage to choke out, his smile never wavering.

"Yes well, I was told once a while back that us blokes can't get up the stairs to your dormitory." He looks around, appearing to be taking in the room before continuing, "I have to admit it's rather cosy up here compared to the dungeon dormitories, you have to cast an atmospheric charm every week or so to stop everything getting damp." To reiterate, I am still completely perplexed by Malfoy's apparition into my bedroom on a Saturday night.

"Why?" I ask, my face scrunching up in confusion (and most probably becoming extremely unattractive in the process). He takes a confident stride towards me while I take a step back hitting the back of my legs on the side of my bed forcing me to sit down.

"I had to see you." Against my mind's better judgement my heart swells, regaining the quickened tempo it usually possesses when in the presence of Scorpius Malfoy. It must be this surprise appearance that's cutting through what should be a defensive and frustrated exterior.

"Why?" I manage to bite out, his smile faltering for the first time. "You could have killed yourself flying in this weather!"

"I wanted to apologise Weasley. I came up here to say sorry and that I've been a supremely idiotic idiot." I struggle to supress a chuckle and it comes out as more of a scoff instead.

"Seriously? "Idiotic idiot"? Did someone hit you with half a dozen cheering charms or something?"

"No." He shakes his head, sending droplets of melted snow across the carpet, some landing on my socks.

"What then? I know you're a good flyer but in this weather I have literally no idea how you didn't die trying to attempt that stunt." I gesture towards the closed window before standing up from my bed and taking a step closer to him, wand raised. He eyes it suspiciously for a moment before the smile transforms into a sort of jaunty, toothy smirk.

"Felix." He states, eyes twinkling merrily in the light of my lamp. And the whole room suddenly feels like it's crumbling down around my ears.

"What?" I splutter (again, all thoughts of composure have been long forgotten).

"Felix Felicis. I'm pretty sure you saw me grab some when it was just sat on our bench during potions." His smile looks a little more smug than before, prompting me to become a little bit defensive.

"I'm finding it hard to believe you as I've seen you grin like this without requiring a potion as an additive."

"Yes. But I've never flown in through a window looking this jovial in the snow. I've never flown through a window at Hogwarts as a matter of fact, Weasley. And somehow I wasn't caught." He adds. I'm not entirely sure how I should feel right now. On the one hand Malfoy rather recently disbanded any chance of our romantic relationship progressing for fear or embarrassment from my family, which I'll tell you hurt quite a considerable amount. On the other hand he has just apparently taken Felix Felicis as an aid to make it up to my room to speak to me. I hope you can understand that this doesn't exactly answer any of my burning questions but just confuses me further. I narrow my eyes, unable to hide the twitch of my lips towards a smirk of my own. The reality of the situation making me a little giddy and light headed.

"How do you feel then?" Oh for the sake of Merlin's left nipple Weasley, THAT IS WHAT YOU'VE JUST ASKED HIM?

His eyes find the quirk of my lips and he hesitates a second before taking another step towards me.

"I feel confident. Like I need to grasp each and every potential opportunity. Also slight elation, but that might just be part due to the flying stunt I just managed." I'm all out grinning now.

"You really are an idiot." I mutter before I can stop myself.

"How so, Weasley?" he questions lifting an eyebrow which disappears beneath his hair.

"You could have just dragged my into a broom cupboard to apologise and instead you wasted a little Felix to fly up to my dormitory without dying?"

"The compulsion for a grand gesture sort of took over, I'll admit. You really seemed convinced I was a bit of a spineless bastard earlier. And once the idea struck me it seemed so good and infallible to waste. So I just did it."

"Bit impulsive and Gryffindor of you, don't you think?" I ask incredulously, completely baffled that he'd waste such a valuable potion to have a few quick words with me.

"Clearly you were a bad influence Weasley." I grins. That toothy, oh so gorgeously toothy, lopsided grin. That makes my heart begin to melt and my pathetic self can't help but continue to grin stupidly back.

"And what would have happened if I'd hexed you into next week?"

"Well, the sheer shock on your face clearly distracted you from that if it was indeed your initial intention. I thought your eyes were going to fall out of your head." He laughs heartily and I reach out and playfully swat him on the arm. The contact sends a shock through me and I jerk my arm away suddenly aware of how close we're standing. Aware that right now most of my anger towards Scorpius Malfoy has been misplaced to make room for this warm almost foggy feeling. I bite my lip and predictably his eyes follow this action also. Suddenly my head is swimming with another thousand questions that need answering battling at the tip of my tongue. But one of them wins outright.

"But why Malfoy?" The question hangs in the air between us, delicate and foreboding all at once. I know exactly what I'd love to hear right now. It would smash right through the now rather thin shield of frustration between me and the man standing right before me.

He breaths in deeply, fixing his face with a serene looking smile, "Because if I'd meant what I said about the girls hear not holding a thousand candles to you, then I wouldn't have dismissed it all when we hit a bump in the road."

"A rather large, obnoxious bump," I add, unable to hold the words in.

"Exactly. So I'd be a complete jester to throw the towel in wouldn't I? You are really amazing Rose. I just wanted to know if you'd consider giving me another chance?" He shrugs, looking as nonchalant as ever. And all I want to do is jump up and down on my bed with complete uncontrolled joy because he actually did fly in through my window to ask if we could start this up again. I think my heart might have exploded.

"You do realise it'll be painfully obvious to the whole school if we start something up again?"

"Well I also realised earlier that I shouldn't give a shit what anyone else thinks."

"I don't remember it saying anywhere in the textbook about Felix making you more charming or anything." I flush as the words escape me, I can't hold them back, I feel as if I might float away on a cloud right about now. I pinch my arm hard to check this isn't a dream.

"Nah, that's just all me Weasley." I roll my eyes while allowing an elated smile to appear on my face mirroring my own.

"Is that a yes Weasley?" He asks, almost bouncing towards me eagerly, all Slytherin illusion shattered as his feet land about a foot in distance from my own.

"I suppose. I think you've earnt it Malfoy." He positively beams like an idiot down at me, lifting his arm up to tug my hair out of it's messy bun letting it all fall onto my shoulders and tugging it gently at the bass of my neck. He brings his face about an inch from mine, the smile never leaving his face before whispering, "you really are an incredible specimen of witch, Weasley."

And before I know it we're fiercely kissing as if making up for that week of lost time and I barely register his hair is still damp as I run my fingers through it, distracted by his tongue doing all those wonderful things I remember. I feel like we could quite literally drown in each other, I pull his sopping jumper off and drag him onto the bed with me as he unceremoniously kicks off his shoes colliding with his broomstick and them both clattering loudly to the floor in a heap. At some point I've also heard my wand drop to the floor, but my main focus is on Scorpius Malfoy's hands stroking down the side of my body, his nails digging into my hips as I involuntarily groan into his mouth. I feel the damn smirk against my own lips, blistering at the pace in which his kisses fall. Somehow a question pops into my head through all this and I pull away panting, opening my eyes. His remain closed while the smirk grows slightly if at all possible.

"Did you consider levitating yourself up the staircase instead of flying in through my seventh floor window?" His eyes fly open and he looks a little affronted.

"No. I can honestly say that thought didn't occur to me at all. Why?"

"No reason." I mutter before capturing his lips and entangling our legs pulling us flush against one another.

Usually, the scrapes I find myself in are much more mundane. So to say that in the past few weeks I accidentally broke up a relationship with an unintentional confession of infidelity. I made a friend in a Malfoy. We brewed a successful batch of Liquid Luck. I somehow found myself attracted to and consequently snogging said handsomely toothy Malfoy. Some drama ensued in the middle. To which Scorpius Malfoy, at least he's the only Malfoy I've ever met, used said Liquid Luck to batter the elements to sort of, I guess; win me back. I'd say it appears my luck might finally be changing for the better.


Well there you have it. The final chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!
I'll confess I think this chapter was the most difficult to write. Without a beta to ask for advice it's been a struggle to finish this story off in a way that I was happy with. Hence the unusually long update time for me! But overall this is where I always wanted the story to end so I'm glad to have finally tied all those plot bunnies together that were just screaming to get out! I'm officially super busy with life now so whenever I get the chance I'll start writing my other story. Again that's pretty much planned out it's just the extra details of the journey I need to type out.

Thank you all so much for actually reading this! I didn't imagine it would ever get this many views OR reviews. So yeah, to every single one of you that's took the time to actually read my writing, you're all wonderful. Please do feel free to let me know what you think of the final installment. I really do hope it doesn't feel too rushed. After all some of my chapters take place within the same day so it seems realistic to me!
In the meantime, take care fellow Potterheads.
*Mischief managed*