Star-Crossed
Matt sat at the coffee table in the hotel suite and scrubbed his face with his hands. 'Book,' he murmured, 'give me Tomb Horrors and Defences.'
The Book of Many Books was flat open on the table, blank pages a pale, endless maw of ignorance before him, but at his voice they shifted. Ink ebbed up out of nowhere for words to scrawl across the parchment, a tidy typeface with the title he'd requested at the top. He skimmed to the contents.
'Hidden passages... false walls... mental trickery...
He flipped through the pages and sank into the words he all but prayed would contain the answer. De Sablé's tomb had to be the place, had to hold the answer, and it had given him nothing. It couldn't just be that Thane had beaten them there - or if he had, there was no indication he'd uncovered anything that Kerner and the others hadn't.
The Chalice was supposed to be there. The Thule Society hadn't found it. It hadn't even been missing, it was just not there. Professor Dresdner had presumably thought there would be something there, or Thane wouldn't have hunted the place down. All his instincts told him he was missing a piece.
'Where are the others?'
It was Rose's voice, but he didn't look up, flicking through pages and not wanting to lose track of what he was hunting. 'Downstairs in the bar. I think. Albus might be sending word to London. Maybe.'
'And you're hard at work?'
'There's something we're missing.' He buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. 'I get the impression from the historical records that this tomb wasn't as easily accessible before Kerner got there. Now it's accessible, it's no big deal because nothing's there. So either the Chalice is, or was, somewhere else... or there's something more to that tomb.'
'What about the writing? Bridging the gap of life and death?'
'I should translate that better. Make sure there's no more to it. That's a good idea, thanks -'
And he lifted his head. And froze.
Rose stood at the bottom of the steps, hair tied up in the way he knew meant she was really making an effort, long strands breaking free to tease the back of her neck. She wore a dark blue dress that was elegant in its simplicity, close-fitting and low-cut but of a colour and style to keep attention on the dress itself, and her, rather than where the clothes weren't.
Though this was also a diverting prospect.
'Um,' he said eloquently.
Rose immediately coloured. 'I'm... sure if any one of us will figure it out, it's you -'
'You're going out tonight?' he blurted, and hated himself for being so clumsy.
She gave a tiny nod. 'Scorpius and I are going for dinner. We won't, er, be long.'
'Well, you're allowed to be.' He was speaking too fast, he knew, getting to his feet as if this were some formal occasion. 'You should go. Have fun. I think we're not going to get enough of that overall.'
'Yes. Well. I will. Scorpius is down at the bar, so... I'm going to... go...' Rose gave him an embarrassed smile and headed for the door.
Something surged in Matt's chest. 'You look great,' he croaked.
She paused at the door, bashful. 'It's the only nice thing I packed, I threw it in... you know, just in case, so -' Then she stopped, realising she was babbling, and ducked her head. 'Thank you. You... have a good evening, Matty.'
He managed to not flinch. 'Yeah,' said Matt, throat dry. 'You two have a great evening.'
It wasn't that he didn't mean it, he reasoned to himself as she left the hotel suite. It was that he did mean it, he just might also want to stab himself in the eye while he was at it. With a groan he collapsed on the futon, head again buried in his hands, but frustration this time was miles away from the tomb of Reynald de Sablé.
He was in serious, serious trouble.
Long moments passed before he moved. Long moments in which he could imagine Rose sweeping downstairs, Scorpius there and probably dressed up like a peacock, there to smile and say the right things, to sweep a girl off her feet like he could do so effortlessly. And Rose would smile and blush with nerves he could never instill in her, then they'd be off, Scorpius paying for somewhere swanky, dinner and wine and dancing and then back here to the hotel and the room they could share in private -
Matt shot to his feet, heart thumping in his chest. I need to be not here. It wasn't so much that he expected Rose and Scorpius to stumble in through the door in a tangle of locked lips and fumbling limbs at any moment - they were doing that enough in his head already - but this imagining was only going to become more vivid the longer he was alone.
He barely remembered to secure his book before he staggered out of the suite and down the stairs. The ornate decorations of the hotel, all polish and style a hundred years old, were now more like a mockery than a luxury. Malfoy money, for pleasantries that felt far, far beyond reach, beyond him.
Like her.
His footsteps rang out across the lobby, quiet at this time of evening, before he fell through the double doors into the hotel bar. It was like tripping into a hole of mahogany and red, music tinkling across the room from a piano in the corner that played itself, and right then it was almost empty.
Almost.
Matt collapsed onto the bar-stool next to Selena and squinted at her glass. 'I don't know what that is,' he said, 'but it's got an olive in it so I want one.'
Selena looked pale, tired, and now surprised, but her mask of airy disinterest slipped back on. 'You crave olives?'
'I crave a drink that needs an olive in it,' said Matt. He'd shared a room with Willoughby and Hedley in his fifth year; booze happened to every young wizard at some point in their life, especially if they lived with two of Hogwarts' greatest menaces to discipline. It had been fun, and funny, and he'd had a headache the next morning, but right now a headache was guaranteed. Fun was not, so he'd paw for that wildly.
She didn't argue with this and lifted a finger to the bartender. 'Another martini.'
'Martini,' he said. 'I know this drink. James Bond.'
'I'm pretty sure the bartender's name is Louis -'
'Never mind.' Matt rubbed his eyes. 'Why are you sat down here drinking a martini on your own?'
'Because Albus left to Floo London? More pressingly, why are you stumbling in here demanding a martini?'
The glass was slid across the bar to him, and he didn't complain when Selena had it put on the tab for their room. Scorpius was taking Rose out for dinner. He could afford the drinks that had to be applied directly to his sanity to cope with this. 'You were down here,' he said, and gulped a mouthful of martini. 'You saw them leave.'
'And you're fine, I bet.' You could bludgeon a troll to death with her sarcasm.
Matt slumped. 'I'm really not,' he said, and to his intense distress his voice croaked as the words slid out.
The wry disinterest fled Selena's face for concern, and she put a hand to his arm. 'I'm sorry. That's rotten.'
'I thought we'd... I thought getting back together was inevitable, you know?' He realised how insanely like a stalker that made him sound, and had another gulp of martini. 'I mean, we broke up. But we still got on. Maybe we just needed time. With other people, with ourselves. But every time we talked there was still... spark. So I thought I'd be patient. So I thought I'd be a good guy.
'And then she started to go out with Flynn. I mean - Flynn.' Matt's nose wrinkled as he remembered discovering that. 'I didn't know if I should feel threatened that she wanted someone more, you know... manly. Or reassured that there was no better version of me around. Does that make sense?'
'In a crazy way,' said Selena. 'I'm probably breaking the girly code with this, but I'll be honest, I don't give a damn tonight. She once described you to me as being a really good but never-ending Rubit Cube, and Hector as being like an endless string of ice-cream parlours.'
He squinted. 'Rubix Cube? Did she mean... I'm intellectually stimulating but never stop, or did she mean she could never figure me out?'
'Oh, the former,' said Selena. 'You're not that mysterious.' She waved a hand. 'And before you ask, if you eat at an endless string of ice-cream parlours, you get sick. That was the point she was making.'
Matt hesitated, then drained his martini. He was going to need the fortitude for his next question. 'Then what's Malfoy?'
Selena's expression twitched. 'A mixture,' she said after a minute.
He slumped again, head back in his hands. 'She really likes him, doesn't she?'
'There's no accounting for taste. Two more martinis.' Selena pushed their glasses away. 'But, yes. She does.'
'I thought it was nuts when I heard they'd got together. I thought Phlegethon had made them crazy. And then I thought isolation had. And then I wondered, arrogantly, if she was just rebounding onto bigger and bigger pricks.' Matt drew his hands raking down his face. 'Then I realised it wasn't going away any time soon and she really did want to be with someone she couldn't stand. But didn't want to be with me.'
'Don't be silly, of course she can stand him. They got past that. Extreme situations make superficial things go away, you get to... what matters.' She hesitated, but then there was another martini, and so everything was better. 'But, no. I don't think they're a fleeting thing. I don't think they're going anywhere.'
'Except for out for dinner together. In Paris. With his bank account.'
'If he doesn't wine and dine her somewhere fancy I will be astonished, and if it doesn't make her positively swoon into his arms I'll eat my hat.'
Matt flinched. 'You're a very honest person. Please stop.'
She shrugged and sipped her martini. 'What're you going to do?'
'What the hell can I do? Suck it the hell up.' He sighed. 'She likes him. And he's... a prick, but he's not a bad guy. Bad guys don't throw themselves in the path of a raging forest troll for someone they don't even like that much.'
'I guess there's something to this wizard's debt after all.'
'We're doing something important. Assuming Thane doesn't already have the Chalice, assuming we're not too late. It's hardly time for me to be a child. And even if it weren't... she likes him. She's happy with him. End of.' He smacked his palm on the bar.
'It is,' said Selena, voice more gentle. She reached to cover his hand with hers, and gave him a soft smile. 'Doesn't mean it doesn't suck, though.'
He returned the smile. 'Thanks. For sympathy. For listening.' His brow knitted. 'You dodged my question. Why're you down here?'
She reached for her drink. 'I'm fine -'
'You're not, let me repay the favour.'
'You don't want to be in my head.'
'I'm sorry. About Jones.' He said this while he still dared, and was rewarded with a flinch. 'I didn't really know him. But he was a hero. And... the man knew, like, everything. I kind of resented him for it, but it was impressive as all hell. He was a bloody genius.'
Selena looked into her drink. 'He was.'
'You just seemed a bit more knocked for six this afternoon than normal.'
'I...' She hesitated. 'This is going to sound mental. But it's been a long time since I sat in a library and hit the books to research anything, let alone something important, and that combined with listening to a guy ramble on passionately about something really nerdy...' A hand came up. 'Don't get me wrong. You're nothing like him. You're far too emotionally accessible and yet also cynical, and your hair's stupid. Don't read too much into you reminding me of him. There are days when soap can make me think of him and I burst into tears. This one was just... new.'
'Okay. Sorry?' It seemed like the thing to say. 'But you also sort of ran off after reading about the Chalice...'
Now she looked away, gaze going to her drink. 'I got into this to go after Thane. And, I mean, that's still the case. But learning he's - that we're - after something that can apparently bring back the dead, except it turns out it can't, not really...'
'Oh.' He winced. 'Yeah. It doesn't seem it works like that. If it even exists. But I'm sorry, hope is... losing hope sucks...'
'I don't need an ancient magical artifact to make me think he's suddenly going to walk through the door,' said Selena, blonde hair falling over her shoulder to create a veil between them, her voice low and pained. 'That happens all the time. Don't take this too seriously. I find ways of giving myself false hope that breaks my heart every day.'
But she spoke with a waver, and so on an impulse he shifted his stool closer so he could slip an arm around her shoulder, awkward but desperate to do something to make this anguish of hers a little bit less. 'Bloody hell,' he breathed. 'I don't know how you're even still going, I'd be a blubbering pile on the floor if I were in your shoes...' He winced. 'That sounded more complimentary in my head.'
She gave a choking laugh and looked up at him, eyes shining once her hair fell from her face. 'Don't think I'm strong. Because I'm not. I don't survive because I'm strong, I survive because there's no alternative.'
'But you're still here. Still fighting,' he said, and a wry note tugged at his expression, along with guilt at his heart. 'While I'm whining about my ex having a new bloke.'
'It sucks to not be with the one you love.'
'Yeah,' breathed Matt, and lifted a hand to brush stray strands of golden hair from her face before he realised what he was doing. When he did, he hesitated, fingers curling back, his hand not moving but his touch inches from her cheek, and she didn't pull away.
She leaned forwards before he did, but he bent down to meet the kiss. There was something lingering and yet ardent about the touch of her lips, a needy pain to the embrace as her hands slid around his neck, and he returned it with his own. Until he tasted the tears that had trickled down her cheeks, and that was enough to bring him crashing back to reality - or close enough, back to thoughts, to memories, to Rose stood in that dress before she sauntered off to meet Scorpius...
Matt broke the kiss but didn't move back. He felt her hands slide away from him, and for a long moment he didn't dare look at her, eyes closed. 'I'm sorry,' he breathed, voice hoarse. 'That was a really stupid thing to do.'
She did pull away, and when he opened his eyes, her face was fallen but in control. She brushed her hair from her face. 'I'm not the one you want to be kissing. And you're not the one I want to be kissing.' There was an awkward silence, and she reached for her drink. 'And your hair's still stupid.'
He looked up self-consciously, even though he of course couldn't see his own hair. 'Why do women -'
'Because it's needlessly floppy and I just want to throw a comb at you. Gel. Or cut. I don't care.' There was an artificial tension to her gibe, but he wasn't going to complain about her deflecting the issue.
But it wouldn't help.
Matt pulled his stool back to where it had been, and watched her pretend to sort out her makeup with a napkin, instead of drying her cheeks and eyes. 'You're a great girl -'
'I really don't need the apologetic pep-talk, Doyle.'
That was more sincere, and he winced. 'Not what I meant. I just meant - thanks. For listening. And for not making this awkward.'
'Which you seem intent on re-making it...'
'That's true.' Matt picked up his glass and drained it, feeling the martini swirling in his gut, by now leaving him warm and a little light-headed. 'Come on.' He got to his feet.
She eyed him. 'Where?'
'We're both sad and maudlin and I know I'm going to just get worse as the night goes on. So let's fight it. We're going to find Albus. And we're going out.'
There was a moment's hesitation - then Selena Rourke rose to her feet, expression the perfect mask of arch superiority. 'Fine,' she said, as if she were graciously doing him a favour, 'but if you try to kiss me again, we will be having words, Matthias Doyle.'
Matt quirked an eyebrow, but knew banter when he saw it. 'As I recall,' he said, gesturing to the door, 'you kissed me first.'
She scoffed. 'In your dreams...'
No, Matt thought as he followed her out. Albus would not be hard to find, across the road at the Assembly, and then all three of them could try to make something fun of this evening without sinking into despair. Not my dreams. Because in my dreams it's someone else.
'You do realise,' said Rose, trying to not laugh as they walked, the last rays of the dying sun casting them into the lamp-lit streets of Paris by night, 'I'm not making it very far at all in these heels.'
'Then it's just as well we can apparate wherever we like,' said Scorpius, voice airy and smug.
'You don't need to impress me by taking me to a Muggle restaurant, you know.'
'You're half-right. I do need to impress you,' he said, lifting a finger. 'But we're not leaving the Ile des Roues for that. We're leaving the Ile des Roues so none of those bastards can interrupt us.'
'"Those bastards,"' she laughed. 'Even Al?'
'Tonight? Especially Al. He's the most likely to dare. And has the best record of it. So I thought I'd go some place they wouldn't find us.'
'Which is not perhaps the best idea if a crisis arises.'
'The way things have been going lately? I'll take the night off.'
She laughed again, then raised an eyebrow as he checked a road name before directing them down a turn into a side-alley. 'Where are we going?'
'If I tell you, it ruins the surprise.' He gave an enigmatic smile.
Despite apparating he had brought them, for reasons escaping her, to the bottom of a hill, the roads and pavements - and even steps, it was that steep at portions - running in between older buildings, more ramshackle and homely. The buzz of tourists and locals was steady, but more relaxed than she'd seen at the park that morning or in the city in the afternoon, and as they got higher she could see the bulk of Paris spilling out below them, millions of pinpricks of light.
They were in the north of the city, she thought, moving down roads which were narrow and cobbled, car traffic nothing to speak of. Buildings had flat roofs and white walls and were all of two or three storeys high, and clumped so close together she couldn't see their destination until they turned a corner and were there.
The heart of the square was a small, fenced park, a patch of greenery kept shrouded in the evening gloom by hedges and tall trees, but the square's fringes bristled with life. Restaurants spilt out onto the streets, each small but uniquely styled, homely and personal. The tables on the terraces were full enough to give the square life and noise, not crowded enough to be bustle and fuss, and passers-by stopped at the park, at the artists with their easels out and racks of their wares, at the quartet of student musicians who'd grabbed string instruments and their singing voices and relied on kindness tossed into a hat to make their evening pay.
'I'm pretty sure,' said Scorpius, glancing at one of the artists, 'that they're just hacks trying to get people to pay for caricatures. But anyway, we want that restaurant.' He pointed down the square to one whose front was painted green, the canopy over the terrace a wooden trellis across which crawled flowered vines. 'No idea what makes it different to any of the others,' he said as they got there, and all he did was give a waiter a casual wave before grabbing one of the tables spilling to the edge of the canopy, 'but apparently the food's excellent.'
'Apparently - why did you -' He'd pulled a chair out for her, and this diverted Rose's confusion for a moment as she sat down. 'This isn't what I expected.'
He beamed. 'I know. You thought I'd take us to Les Deux Mages or something, didn't you?'
'I admit I expected something fancier. Fussier,' she amended, not wanting him to think she disapproved.
Scorpius plainly didn't, sitting down with a flourish. 'I thought we could see real Paris. Not stay cooped up on the island. We won't be found. We won't be interrupted. We can have a nice evening. When did we last do that?'
'Without any expectations placed on us as to what we'd be doing or when we'd be back? Never.'
His brow furrowed at last. 'Bloody hell. I don't take care of you, do I?'
'Don't be silly,' said Rose, letting her gaze drift to the square, watching the musicians for a moment. 'It's my fault as much as yours. Maybe more, I'm the one with the parents who spent weeks watching me like hawks. And this makes up for it, anyway.'
'Or, it will.' Scorpius looked like he was going to say something, then the waiter appeared. Being still in a tourist-heavy part of the city made the proceedings of ordering in a foreign country considerably easier, though Rose cast a glance at the wine list as Scorpius picked something, and she kept her expression clear until the waiter was gone.
'We can split this bill -'
'Absolutely not!' He leaned forward. 'I'm treating you, Weasley. Accept the nice things.'
She grinned despite herself. 'But between this and the suite...'
'I meant what I told your mum.' Scorpius looked away, brow knitting for a moment. 'My family's money might be old, but a lot of it comes from some pretty bad places. Funds taken off Muggles and dissidents in the occupation, never returned because there was nobody to return it to. Even funding for Death Eaters, held by my grandfather as somewhere safe, somewhere legitimate. My family home was used as one of Voldemort's meeting places, and I'm pretty sure people have been murdered in my dining room and wine cellar.' His gaze returned to her, abashed. 'I'm sorry, tonight's not meant to be about all that.'
'Tonight's meant to be about us. Your family is a part of this.'
'My family has nothing -'
'I understand you wanting to put the money to a... better use,' said Rose gently, cutting off his indignation. 'But you don't need to act like it's nothing for you to support us like this. For you to do things like this.' She offered a small, reassuring smile.
His in return was still bashful. 'That's why I did this. Any idiot can throw money at a problem. I thought you'd like to see something different. You don't get places like this in the wizarding world.'
'And this is lovely. So I won't pester you any more on money. I'll just say thank you.'
'I do feel I've got lots to make up for,' said Scorpius after a moment's hesitation, in which the waiter reappeared with most exquisite timing to bring them wine, and they both had to pretend he hadn't said something loaded.
So she waited until she'd had a mouthful of wine and the waiter was gone before narrowing her eyes at him. 'You have the most extraordinary habit of putting yourself down. Even when the whole world -'
'But I lied to the world.' He grimaced. 'Didn't I? About me versus Thane. I didn't beat him at all. I was just too much of a coward to tell people what he'd really done, when it could be useful.'
'I agree that knowing Thane, or maybe even the Council, wanted us to get the Resurrection Stone is... perplexing,' Rose granted. 'But it doesn't change anything we're planning. Anything we're doing. And you still marched into the middle of his scheme and foiled it.'
'With Harley's help.'
'Thane wanted you to be there on your own. You denied him that. Who knows what his original intention was? Maybe he had to roll with it, giving you the Stone. I don't know why he'd have taken great pains to get you there alone, ambushed by his people, only to hand you the Stone and send you on your way. I think it's far more likely he had to adapt to a changing situation.' She shook her head. 'This changes nothing. And it certainly changes nothing that matters.'
Scorpius winced. 'I didn't want to tell your mum -'
'Mum can stew on it for a while. This doesn't make Thane not a bad guy. If he really wanted to do good, he'd have not just given you the Stone, but told you about the ritual, too. Methuselah died because, amongst other things, we didn't know about the inner markings.' Rose shrugged. 'We already knew Thane was up to something when he didn't kill us the first two times. That there was a third muddies the waters, yes, but they were murky to begin with.'
He nodded, took a gulp of his wine, and then - 'I hate it,' he burst out, with a fervour that surprised her. 'I hate it when the papers talk about my defeat of Thane like it was a big deal - even if it were true, they sideline Harley and his guys all the time. It's worse that it's fiction, I hate it.'
'I know. I could tell all along - I just thought you hated it because of Methuselah.' A thought struck her, and she couldn't help but give him another small smile. 'You do realise you take people saying something incorrect but good about you far worse than you take people saying something incorrect but bad? You were satisfied to take the story about you cheating on Miranda for months, but people paint you as a hero -'
'Except I am a prick, at times. I'm not a hero.'
Her expression fell. 'If Methuselah hadn't stopped you, you'd be dead,' she pointed out. 'You double-crossed Thane, you went into the Forbidden Forest to get Acromantula skin and would have done it on your own if I hadn't shown up. Only yesterday you grabbed Al's cloak, told us to trust you, and threw yourself in front of a troll. For someone you've admitted you don't even like.' Rose put down her wine glass and reached for his hand. 'I don't know if the world should call you a hero, but I know I do.'
Scorpius dropped his gaze, trying to smother a pleased smile. '...Doyle's not that bad.'
'Just yesterday you were complaining about him.'
'He does make gooey-eyes at you,' Scorpius protested, though his voice was light, confident. 'But you're right. I have nothing to worry about. It's only natural that he would find you bedazzling, and just his rotten luck that I'm such a heroic hero that you are bedazzled by me.'
She remembered the look on Matt's face earlier, and smothered the sense of discomfort that came with it. 'I am sorry I invited him. I shouldn't have put you in that position. I'd probably hit the roof if you'd suggested Miranda.'
'You know, I'm not even angry at her any more? I realised this when I invited Selena. I was furious for ages. Now I just... pity her. I pity that she had to go to such lengths for something so... petty.' His expression shifted. 'There are things I hate about how Phlegethon changed our lives, but the thing I value is how it's made us see what's important.'
She swallowed, throat dry as his piercing blue eyes locked on her, and for once they weren't twinkling with amusement but firm, cutting. 'Like what?'
'Your entrées?' The waiter appeared next to them with a pair of plates, and Rose idly considered hexing him into a frog.
On the other hand, she was hungry.
But the moment was broken, so instead she focused on her rather good goat's cheese salad. 'Mum was fussing this morning.' She tried to not smile as Scorpius looked apprehensive. 'Not about you.' Or, that's not the bit I'm talking about. 'About Selena. Or, more precisely, her mother.'
'Lillian Rourke?' Scorpius' brow furrowed as he refilled their glasses. 'I thought she was doing a great job.'
'I think Mum's irate that there's someone as interfering and competent as her on the case. She made a point, though, that the Convocation's advanced in leaps and bounds in power, and that Lillian Rourke, as Britain's rep and a possible future Chairman, stands to gain. Mum thinks she's a little bit opportunistic.'
'While your mum is entirely altruistic bullying control of the Phlegethon task force? Don't get me wrong, I'm sure she did it because she was worried -'
'But also she doesn't trust anyone but her to do the job, yes.' Rose sighed. 'Her point was that we shouldn't let Lillian Rourke know things, in case she uses it to exploit us for political gain.'
'If she wants political gain, she doesn't want to tell the world a bunch of under-qualified witches and wizards are flouting international law and chasing Prometheus Thane.'
'Technically we've not broken any laws. Yet.'
He snorted, then winced and took a sip of wine as an obvious delaying tactic. 'I apologised to Selena for yesterday.'
'How'd she take it?'
'In good enough grace. She had been trying to pretend that she didn't give a damn about Jones.'
'I know. I'm sorry. I thought you saw through it. Maybe it's a girl thing.'
He stabbed a goujon as if it had personally wronged him. 'I couldn't pretend. I don't get it.'
'I saw what happens when she stops.' Selena's grief was sufficiently raw that remembering it was enough to send a jolt through her. It was one thing to recall her sobbing over Methuselah's corpse, horrifying though that had been. To see her so desolated months later was something else. 'I don't know how she gets through the day with all of that inside her. I think it would kill me.'
'I think she thought that, too. People can survive a lot.' His lips twitched, and he cocked his head to the side. 'Like this music.'
She had to laugh at that, and the tension of the moment was broken, bringing them from the suffering of their friends and back to Paris by night, and all of the pleasantries it brought. Good wine. Good food. The only company she wanted.
He'd found the place in a guidebook, he admitted bashfully, having trawled the streets of Ile des Roues when the others had been in the library. The restaurant had been recommended as somewhere wizards could find without too much difficulty, where the food was simple but local and high quality, and where a lump sum of a certain amount of money would cover the bill and still bring change, without having to fuss about conversion rates.
He didn't let the evening drift back to serious topics as they ate. He teased about the world tour without discussing chasing Thane, pointed out when one of the musicians was a beat later than the others and then laughed when it became distracting. They talked school, the prospect of going back, how he was finding living with the Potters - normal, everyday things.
Like they were two normal people out for a normal evening meal, instead of locked possibly into a deadly hunt where they could only hope they were the predator.
They were in no rush to finish the evening. With food done they could enjoy a flow of drinks, the square getting quieter as night drew on, able to sit and talk for as long as they liked, but within an hour of their plates being taken away Scorpius deposited a pile of Muggle money on the little tray, muttered something about being generous with tips, then got to his feet and extended a hand to her. 'A walk before we go back?'
'And see more of the city? How could I say no?'
The buildings were thick enough that turning a couple of corners down cobbled roads meant the square was blocked from sight and sound within moments, as if they were cut off from the rest of the world. Just the winding roads, the view stretched out before them of twinkling lights over the rooftops of the city, and him.
So she winced before she spoke. 'There's something I never asked you.'
She felt his hand twitch under hers. 'Sure?' The levity in his voice was forced.
'You can tell me to sod off,' she said. 'I just - I never asked - and you never said - what happened to your mother?'
In the lamp-lit gloom she could see him wince when she looked up, and he stopped at a street corner, shoulders tense. 'My father drove her off,' he said, then hesitated, looking away. 'They were married when - my father had this period, after the war, of not being an arsehole. He travelled, worked in Europe for a bit, married my mum, I was born - and then my grandfather died. And suddenly my father had the family name and wealth and I think he wanted to redeem it. Do something with it. So out with the old money and the idle rich, and in came the investments. The business. And, inevitably, the political influence to get the best contracts, to make sure laws like your mum pushed through didn't stifle him, and it... ate him, I think.
'I don't remember him being a decent bloke. Or a not-a-shit. I only have what I've guessed and heard. I do remember the rows with him and my mum. Him not being around enough. Him being cold and detached, or domineering. He wanted home, Malfoy Manor, to be perfect and run just the way he wanted it - but wasn't around to do it. Family became something to make him look good to the public, not to devote time to. And whatever affection had been between them fizzled out as my mother refused to be a trophy, and he knew less and less how to not treat us as something to make him look good, then take his anger out on us when...'
His voice had grown more and more tense until he looked away, jaw tight, and she stepped in to bring her hands up to his shoulders, letting him speak but keeping close. Eventually he shrugged. 'Yeah. She couldn't take it any more, and left him. Three, four years ago.'
Her thumb stroked the corner of his jaw. 'I didn't know. I'd pieced bits together. I'm sorry.'
He shook his head. 'Don't be. You didn't do it.' Another hesitation. 'I've not heard from her in months. Apparently she's fine. She's just not got in touch.'
'I'm sure there's a good explanation,' Rose lied. Now was not the time to speculate on Astoria Malfoy's lifestyle and motivations.
He nodded - then grinned suddenly, a joke to divert and distract. 'You keep this up, Weasley, and I'll be all out of secrets.'
She gave a falsely sombre nod, content to play along. 'Maybe, but I'm sure you'll find a new way to make yourself intractable.'
'I'm positively open and cooperative these days -'
'You disappeared under an invisibility cloak and just said "trust me". That's not a plan, Malfoy, that's barely even a concept.'
His brow furrowed with mock-indignation. 'Wait, you didn't know what I'd had in mind, and you dropped a tree on me anyway?'
Albus had figured it out, but then, Albus knew better than her what Scorpius' combat capabilities were, and had anticipated the illusion. She shrugged. 'I figured it was a win-win situation.'
'A win-win - I'll have you know that this scheme was one of my best.'
'It's brighter than the magical blasting guitar, I grant you.'
'I broke you out of the Headmaster's Office with that!'
'Technically, Methuselah broke us out of the Headmaster's Office. Technically, you just committed a large amount of property damage.' Rose had to smother a smirk as his look of mock-indignation grew. I've missed this, she realised to her own surprise. Bickering with him made the world shrink to this narrow tunnel of verbal strikes, parries, ripostes, of their joint indignation and amusement - and there was nothing, nothing more serious in the world in those moments than winning the row.
The world could burn so long as they could both get off one more retort.
His next retort was the best, the row settled or at least shelved when he stepped forward, tilted her face up to his, and kissed her. And the world narrowed even more, to nothing more than the feel of his lips on hers, his arms pulling her to nestle against him, the pounding of her blood in her ears. But before she could summon a reaction, move in any way other than letting herself be helpless in his embrace, he broke the kiss. His nose brushed against hers, close enough for their breath to mingle. 'Fine,' Scorpius whispered. 'You win.'
She wanted to summon a clever retort, but there were none left and her lips were tingling and cold for his absence. So all she could do was mumble incoherently and drag his head down to hers, fingers entangling in his hair, the kiss needy, ardent. She'd watched him disappear under a cloak and go into danger she couldn't see. Watched him get slammed into a wall and choked by a golem. Watched blood well up from his leg from a wound she'd feared fatal. And this was just in the past two days, and she'd had so few opportunities to grab hold of him and remind herself that he was here, real, flesh and blood and hers...
A low noise escaped his throat, and the next thing she knew he'd backed her up against the nearest wall, pinning her there with his weight, and she was of no mind to resist. There was nobody here to interrupt them, judge them, nobody expecting them at a certain time, no propriety to observe, and instead of the apprehension that had once boiled in her gut at the free-falling abyss below them, insecurity was gone and all she wanted to do was tumble with him.
She had to turn her head to the side to break the kiss, and his lips trailed along her jaw, making her shiver. 'We should get back,' she said, once she'd found her breath enough to make coherent words, but her fingers curled a fistful of his shirt when he hesitated. 'The hotel. We've got a room. Take me back.'
She wanted to be clear. This was not a request for him to stop. Quite the opposite.
His eyes were wide and dark when he pulled away, chest heaving. It was like the stars were spinning overhead, or perhaps her head was, intoxicated by the wine - only enough to take the edge off - and the feel of him - enough to leave her staggered. 'Right,' he rasped. 'You're sure? I didn't do this to - to pressure you -'
Her fingertips came up to his lips, and she smiled a crooked smile. 'I said you'd be in trouble some day.'
Scorpius didn't smile, gaze deadly serious as he pulled back, grabbed her hand, and cast his gaze about for a street to safely apparate from. The part of Rose's brain that could still think coherently tried to not laugh that she'd let him kiss her like there was no tomorrow and not care if anyone was watching, but magic was still business.
She let him handle the apparition, even if it was a bit wonky, and the next minutes passed in a blur. Stumbling, laughing, out of an alleyway on Ile des Roues. Falling into the hotel lobby and trying to look less like flustered youths desperate to get back to a world of privacy. Creeping into the suite and concluding, with a satisfaction she couldn't quantify, that the others were indeed out.
His lips were back on hers even as they staggered to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them, and she gave up on balance to let them tumble onto the bed in a frantic, thrilled pile. Falling and flying, thought that coherent part of her, were feeling remarkably like one and the same. She might have been apprehensive before - but that was lost in the wind with his hands on her, teasing the fabric of her dress, her lips parting under his with eager invitation. The only apprehension she could remember was his, his doubt of her, of them, and all that was left was the burning need to remind him that she'd made her choices, and she'd chosen him. Them. This.
Breath caught in her throat as his kiss trailed along her neck to her shoulder, fingers slipping off the strap of her dress as his other hand slid down, finding bare skin at her knee, her thigh. She reached up with desperation, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt, his skin warm and firm under her touch.
There were times she thought she knew him inside and out, even if he didn't say everything, but before them rolled whole new vistas of discovery. Her only regret was the question of how much could be found in one night, because waiting for the next moment was racking enough already.
Her fingers found his belt buckle, tugged it undone, teased -
'Rose -' Then his breath caught, and his lips tore from hers - then her hands were empty and he was pulling away, leaving only cold. And nothing, and for thudding heartbeats Rose lay there on the bed, no longer in a tumble of them both but alone, and with her head spinning it took her a moment to realise that he hadn't just vanished into thin air but pulled away.
She sat up, blinking reality back in, hair wild and one strap dangling off her shoulder. 'Scorpius?' Her voice was hoarse, bewildered.
He was stood at the foot of the bed, shirt off, a hand in his hair, eyes wild. 'I - I'm sorry,' he croaked, and lifted his free hand. 'I can't - I'm sorry - I better -' Not five seconds ago he'd been kissing her like he never wanted to stop, but now he grabbed his discarded shirt and tore for the door like he couldn't get away fast enough.
'...what...?' But he didn't stop, and she couldn't stop him, and he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in the bedroom, cold from the sudden loss of his closeness, his warmth, and from the remains of their evening together suddenly and inexplicably turned to ashes.
A/N: There's… not much to say about this chapter! It never really got worked into the narrative, but the part of Paris Scorp's taken Rose to was Montmartre, the place to go if you want to be terribly, pretentiously bohemian in Paris. Lovely part of the city.
'Les Deux Mages' is a reference that has shown up in my work before, as a fancy magical hotel/restaurant (readers of the Anguisverse might remember it's where Cal Brynmor and Nat Lockett met up in Beyond This Place). The name is a pun on 'Les Deux Magots', a real-world high-end Parisian café, historically the home of the city's literary elite.
Oh, and because I anticipate needing to answer this in reviews: No, this chapter does not mean a Matt/Selena romance is guaranteed on the cards. The two of them inevitably interact a lot because they're the two "outsiders" from the main Trio, and so it's inevitable that they develop a relationship from this. But despite tonight's entanglement, I have no specific plans for this relationship to be romantic. If it becomes a romance, it will be the chemistry leading me that way. Right now it feels a bit too neat and tidy, in an obligatory manner, for them to hook up. And besides, Selena is too hung up on Methuselah. Matt is too hung up on Rose.
Anyway, the show must go on!
Though there are other shows. Information on my profile is updated if you're interested in any of my professional work - or, frankly, just want to hear me natter some more about mindless shite, writing, fictional worlds, and what I had for breakfast.
