"Go Al!" I screamed, watching my cousin zoom around the pitch, the Slytherin Chaser Zebetski hot on his tail.

"Foul!" Natalie said loudly next to me as she watched Zebetski deliberately ram into Al to get the Quaffle. Caught off guard, Al used one hand to steady his wildly spinning broom while clutching tight onto the red ball with the other. Apparently, his grip wasn't tight enough, as a moment later Zebetski wrested the Quaffle from Al's grip.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I saw Zebetski fly away triumphantly from Al's careening broomstick, making sure to loop the referee who had been looking the other way at the Gryffindor Seeker.

"We're going to lose," I moaned.

"We sure are with that attitude," she said, nudging me in the ribs. "Where's your Gryffindor pride?"

I opened my eyes to see Natalie looking at me inquisitively. "At an all time low, just with the score," I said in a morose voice. I jerked my head over to the commentators box, where a charming Hufflepuff fifth year was rattling off the names of the Slytherin Chasers in possession.

"Oh come on," said Natalie exasperatedly, "Look, the game has barely started! We're only twenty minutes in. We can still pull through."

"From 50 to 120?" I asked sceptically.

"It's been done before," she sniffed. "Or Hawley can just catch the snitch. We're fine," she finished bracingly, giving a big whoop as Al once again took possession of the Quaffle.

"And there goes Potter!" the commentator shouted gleefully. "He passes to Francis, who passes to Jones. Jones back to Potter. Potter ducks around Slytherin Keeper Mackaber, shoots, and scores! Slytherin still leads, 120 to 60!"

I yelled and cheered along with the rest of my house for Al. Always a professional during a Quidditch match, he gave no indication that he had just scored or that half the crowd was ecstatically calling his name. Instead, he busied himself with regaining the Quaffle from the Slytherin Chasers. Al was an expert flier, as the son of the youngest Hogwarts Quidditch player in a century and the Holy Head Harpies lead Chaser for five years, he learned to fly practically before he learned to walk. However, he never really developed a passion for the sport like others in our family. James had gone on to play professionally for England for a season before he was transferred to Romania, and Hugo was boasting to anyone who would listen that he knew a talent scout who had personally sought him out for his potential, despite that Hugo was only sixteen. And then there was Al, who never thought of Quidditch as a career and who only considered the sport to be a fun pastime.

"Well, we are thirty minutes in and so far no sign of the snitch," the commentator was saying regretfully. "Oh," she exclaimed, "Penalty shot to Jones for, oh what's the proper term – being kicked in the shins? That can't be right. Anyway, that's what happened. And Jones approaches Slytherin Keeper Ryan, shoots, and misses!"

The Slytherins in the crowd cheered as the match resumed.

"Bad luck, Jones. Slytherin is once more in possession. Kingston passes to Nott, who shoots… and misses too! Nice save by Winters. Gryffindor in possession. Potter passes to Francis-"

But the pass could not be completed, as a bludger, hit furiously by Slytherin beater Nichols, came careening towards the Gryffindor Chasers and forced them to scatter mid-throw. The Slytherin Chaser Meyers caught the Quaffle as it fell and began streaking up the pitch in the other direction.

I winced as I heard the Slytherin victory cries, and turned my gaze from Hugo's end of the pitch to stare intently at Scorpius, flying slowly about high in the air, above the rest of the players. From past matches, I knew his tactic was to stay above the fray. Therefore he wouldn't get in the way of whatever highly stylized formation strategy the Slytherin Chasers had planned, and he could keep an eye on the whole field from his position way up in the air. Generally he preferred to keep away from it all for as long as he could. From high up, he kept a light tail on Hawley, always hovering somewhere above him as he scouted out the rest of the pitch. Of course, if the match was looking bad then he'd come down and join the fray to help out his team mates with just as underhanded methods as the rest of them.

The game continued, and Gryffindor continued to lose. I felt so bad for Al, he was doing the best he could, given that his Keeper was out with a shattered right arm due to a spell gone wrong and the reserve had never played a formal game before. To top that off, one of his Beaters was playing lefty because he had badly fractured his other wrist the day before. All in all, it did not look good for the Gryffindor team.

I groaned aloud as I heard the announcer shout a quarter of an hour later, "And Zebetski scores again! Slytherin definitely has this match in control. 200 to 70, to Slytherin!"

Beside me, Natalie sighed loudly and gave her small Gryffindor flag a half-hearted wave. "You might be right, Rose," she admitted, leaning forward so that she could see Hugo flying below us, bat at the ready. "It doesn't look very good."

"Nope," I said shortly, my eyes still following Scorpius's path through the sky.

"I mean, so, we lose by around 200 points. If Ravenclaw wins against Hufflepuff by 50 points, then we could easily crush Ravenclaw," she mused. "Then, Gryffindor would be safe…"

I shook my head. "No way. Hufflepuff is surprisingly good this year, their reserves really stepped it up over the summer, and most of them made the team. Rivers is one of the best Beaters in at least a decade, I reckon." I got up to cheer as Al scored against Ryan.

Natalie scowled as she resumed her seat. "What does Al think?"

"I haven't asked him," I said, shrugging. "He's not too concerned, but then again," I grimaced, "Hardly anything can ruffle him."

"True," she contended.

I was just about to respond, when our conversation was interrupted by the commentator. "And it seems like Malfoy has seen the snitch! He's moving to the Gryffindor end of the pitch, with Hawley hot on his tail!"

My head whipped around to watch a scarlet and an emerald blur streak past us, almost at eye level.

"Go Hawley!" I cheered, standing up and screaming with the rest of my house. "Come on!"

"Go Gryffindor!" Natalie was shouting next to me, also egging on our Seeker. "Go Gryffindor!"

I could just make out that Malfoy was leading by an arm's length. Just as he passed the goal posts, I saw that he was reaching out his arm to grasp a glitter of gold that I could barely see.

And then wham.

I gasped aloud as I saw Scorpius nearly fall off his broom from the force of the Bludger that hit him in the back.

"And Gryffindor Seeker Hawley gets the snitch! Gryffindor wins, 230 to 200!" the magnified voice of the commentator announced to the stunned crowd.

"Yes!" Natalie screamed, jumping up in the air and cheering. "Gryffindor wins! Gryffindor wins!"

I was too shocked to muster another sound.

I mean, yeah, of course I was happy that my house won, but at the moment I was more concerned with Scorpius. Merlin, I hoped he was okay. The bludger had travelled a quarter of the pitch to reach him, quite a hard beating it received from my dear little brother.

"Merlin, Rose, what's with you?" Natalie asked pointedly, shaking her head. "We just won! Why aren't you jumping up and down for joy?"

"Woo," I said lamely, my gaze flickering back to the pitch to where Scorpius was slowly descending on his broom, a deep scowl etched upon his face.

Natalie gave me a bemused look. "Anyway," she said, turning away from me. "Let's head up to the celebration party, eh? It's bound to be a good one."

"Er, in a moment," I said, turning to see the Slytherin team shuffle back to the changing rooms. "I have something to take care of first."

Natalie immediately adopted an incredulous expression. Eyebrows raised, she asked, "What would that be? Why would you turn down an opportunity to consume free butterbeer and see a drunken Al take his shirt off?"

I wrinkled my nose in distaste. "Please, he's my cousin. I've seen him do that plenty of times when we were in nappies. I do not need a repeat. Especially now that he's convinced that he's gained some nonexistent, invisible, manly man muscles." I shuddered. "I'll wait that out, thanks."

"Fine," she sniffed. "I'll go by myself. You take care of whatever you have to do. Just leave me to party all by my lonesome. All alone, with no best mate for company. All alone, with just a firewhiskey to nurse my sorrows! All alone-"

"What the bloody hell are you on about, you madwoman?" I interrupted, laughing. "All alone, my arse. You'll have the entire Gryffindor house to keep you company as you drink yourself into a stupor."

"Oh right," said Natalie brightly. "See you later!" and with that, she turned and joined the last of the crowd that was filing out of the stadium.

I waited a few moments before leaving my seat. I slowly walked down the stairs to the exit, thinking hard.

By the time I left the stadium and had traipsed over to the entrance to the Slytherin changing rooms, a couple of the team members were straggling out, looking moody and disappointed.

"Meyers?" I asked, approaching the Slytherin Captain as she emerged.

"What?" she demanded sharply, turning to me. "Oh, it's you, Weasley. What do you want?"

I could tell she was trying to keep her voice as even and polite as possible. "Er, just whether Scorpius has left or not," I said quietly, not too keen on making her even angrier.

"He hasn't," she said shortly before she turned away and marched back up to the castle.

I waited for ten more minutes, biding my time by pacing and thinking of what exactly I wanted to say to him. All I could picture in my mind's eye was his grimace of pain as the Bludger hit him and the bitter expression that he wore as he left the pitch after the match. I wanted nothing better than to make him smile.

Well, that and a good hearty snog in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.

But I'd settle for a smile.

Eventually I heard footsteps inside of the changing room, getting louder and louder. I quickly skipped to the door and waited in attention.

"Rose," said Scorpius as he caught sight of me, looking taken aback at my appearance.

"Hey," I said, giving him a small smile.

"Hi," he said tightly, before turning to bypass me on his way back to the castle.

"Wait," I called, catching up to him and grabbing his arm.

"What?" he asked abrasively.

I made a face. "Let's talk."

"About what?" asked Scorpius, looking bemused under his frustration.

"Things," I said vaguely.

He shot me a sceptical look. "Really, Rose, as much as I like talking to you, I don't think I can stand Rose Weasley's Reasons Numbers 150-170 of why Gryffindor is Better than Slytherin right now." He turned away from me to stalk off angrily.

"I wasn't about to gloat about the match," I said, stung.

Scorpius paused, and his caustic expression faltered for a moment as he took in my reaction. "Oh," he said softly, pausing midstride to look at me. "You weren't?"

"No," I said forcefully, releasing my grip on his arm and placing my hand on my hip instead. "But if you want a lecture on how Slytherins are such sore losers they cannot even hear out their best mates, then I'll be happy to oblige."

"I'd rather not," he said shortly.

"Brilliant. I don't want to give it," I said, grinning.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration once he realised he couldn't get rid of me that easily. "Look, Rose, I'm really in no mood to have some heart-to-heart discussion with you right now-"

"Oh really?" I asked sarcastically. "I never would have guessed from your irascibly congenial demeanour."

Scorpius grimaced.

"And who said anything about some sort of soul bearing confession?" I continued, eyebrows raised. "For all you know, I could be asking you about Patil's most recent essay."

He paused and shot a fleeting look at the castle behind him. "Whatever it is, I'm supremely not interested, so let me go," and with that, he attempted to slip past me again, but I was firm.

"Why?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "So you can go back to your common room and sulk in a corner for the rest of the evening?"

"I don't sulk," he said, looking annoyed.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, laughing. "Then what do you call what you were doing after the first Ravenclaw Slytherin match of fourth year?"

"I brood," clarified Scorpius stiffly.

"I see," I said in a grave voice while trying not to smile.

"It's sulking with style," he said thoughtfully after a moment.

I turned to look at him, and noticed with a feeling of joy that the corner of his mouth had risen into a half-smile. "There's nothing stylish about a fully grown wizard pouting darkly in a corner for five straight hours," I retorted.

"Brooding," Scorpius corrected, turning to face me. "Not pouting, not sulking, brooding, Weasley." He rolled his eyes at my inability to deal with his inane semantics.

"Whatever," I said, shrugging. "You're still a pansy."

"I am not a pansy Rose Wea-"

I cut off his protests ann took him by the arm. "Come on, let's get a move on."

"Where are we going exactly?" he asked, raising his eyebrows but going along with me nonetheless.

"Back to the Quidditch pitch," I said, tugging him along. "I've been cooped up in the library for far too long."

"Rose, you just sat through two hours worth of sun during the match," he pointed out, digging in his heels slightly as I continued to practically drag him out onto the grass.

I made a face. "There were too many people to properly enjoy the sunshine," I said, tilting my face up to the sky as I spoke.

Scorpius frowned as he considered the holes in my logic, but refrained from commenting.

"You know, it's the first really nice day in a long while," I said, slipping off my robes and plopping myself down in the middle of the pitch. I kicked off my shoes too for good measure.

"It was perfectly fine yesterday," he said, staring around the empty stands.

"It was too cold to go out," I said, stretching out on the grass.

Scorpius shot me a look. "It was fine during practice."

I looked up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. "You were exercising, that's different. I saw people out in hats and gloves, so don't you give me any of that crap, Scorpius."

"You know," he said, tilting his head slightly as he surveyed me from his standing position, "If I get the angle right, you head just about looks like it's on fire."

"Prat," I called lazily.

"Of course," he said absentmindedly, his eyes skimming over to the spot where he lost the snitch just a half hour ago.

"Come on," I said, bringing his attention back to me. "Sit down and pretend like you're not planning the best escape route from the pitch."

"I wasn't planning the best escape route," he said hurriedly.

"Sure you weren't," I said, smirking. "You were just waiting for the moment when you could run for the hills the moment I looked the other way."

Scorpius paused for a moment before joining me. "So," he asked, crossing his long legs lithely underneath him, "What's this all about?"

"Don't know," I said contentedly, lying down so that I was on my stomach. I idly fiddled with a tuft of grass.

He too lowered himself so that he was on his back, his body parallel to mine. One of his knees was raised in the air, and he had his hands folded neatly on his stomach. Our faces were just inches from each other, and his steely grey eyes were aimed heavenward, tracing the outlines of the clouds in the early spring sky. I watched him breathe for a moment, watched the rise and fall of his powerful chest and lithe hands.

"Tell me when you do, alright?" he asked, turning his head to the side to see my face.

"Alright," I agreed softly.

It was odd. We were friends again. We had been for the past month and a half, since January, but I could tell it wasn't the same as before. For one, there were these new silences in our conversations, silences that I could never hope to fill, no matter how much endless chatter I tried to shove in them. They went deeper than simple breaks when neither of us spoke; they were silences that seemed to stretch on for eternity and absorbed all knowledge we were keeping from each other. I knew sooner or later the silences would be broken, and all those words that went unspoken in would spill out uncontrollably, flooding the air and suffocating us with their hitherto unsuspected implications. It would be bad, that much I knew.

I pushed these slightly morbid thoughts aside and instead asked, "Does your back hurt?" I turned my head so that I could discern his expression.

He winced slightly as he shifted a little to get more comfortable. "A little. Meyers fixed me up in the changing room. Mostly. She didn't want me going to Pomfrey, as she would probably keep me there over the weekend and keep me from practice."

I nodded. "Do you want for me to take a look at it?" I asked, raising myself onto my elbows and pulling out my wand.

Scorpius hesitated. "Okay," he said quietly. He sat up and shrugged off his robes. He silently pulled off his jumper and then his vest. I saw him shiver slightly in the cool spring air, but he ignored it and turned around so I could inspect his back.

I nearly groaned aloud. Merlin, it should be illegal for one's best mate to look this good. I swear I was nearly salivating as I inched towards him. His skin was pale without even the barest hint of a tan. A few sparse blonde hairs were blowing about in the soft wind, but for the most part they rested, casually tousled, atop his head. I was just itching to run my fingers through them just to see if his hair was still as soft as I remembered from New Years Eve all those months ago, but somehow I restrained myself. His broad shoulders and upper back were free of any blemishes, and I could see the strong muscles of his back strain as he hunched over to protect himself from the slight spring breeze. Scorpius turned his head to say something to me, and I looked up, my face blank, before he could recognise the hungry look in my eyes as lust. Still, I was concentrating too much on controlling my expression that I entirely missed what it was he wanted to say to me. Whatever, better to seem stupid around him than a total slag.

Which I was not.

…Mostly.

I let my gaze drift downwards to take in the ugly bruise that had spread all over his lower back from that bludger. Thankfully it wasn't swollen or turning funny colours, just the usual purplish blue. However, next to his remarkably pale skin, it did seem slightly darker than normal. I frowned as I took it all in.

"That bad?" he asked, peering at me out of the corner of his eye.

I shrugged. "I've seen worse," I said calmly, pulling out my wand and quickly muttering a few healing spells. I watched closely the bruised areas gradually lightened to a normal skin tone. After a moment, I allowed my fingernails to briefly graze over the lightest of the purple patches over the small of his back, but I jerked away abruptly as I heard him take an involuntary hiss of breath at my touch.

"Did I hurt you?" I asked worriedly, leaning over his shoulder so that his face was inches from mine, my curls just brushing his right cheek.

"No," he said in a strained voice.

Liar.

"I'm sorry," I apologised, repeating the healing spells again. "I'm almost done." I tried using my most business-like voice, terrified that he could see right through me and my pathetic excuse to get him shirtless.

"Right," he said shortly.

"Better?" I asked, tapping him lightly on the shoulder when I was done.

"Thanks, Rose," he said gratefully, turning around to face me. "Meyers did the best she could, but she's only a sixth year, and you know we don't get into the right spells until NEWT Charms and DADA."

I nodded.

I bit my lip from sighing in regret when he reached for his vest. All too soon, a fully clothed Scorpius was sitting in front of me.

Still, perhaps it was for the better. Merlin knows if he had remained shirtless in front of me for a moment longer, I'm sure he would have realised I fancied him something fierce, what with the puddle of drool that would have been dripping from my chin and my inability to say anything except an extremely elegantly phrased, "Guh…" or two.

Or four.

Better to keep my mouth shut, really, and let him keep dressing.

I watched as he gingerly laid back down on his stomach, signing a little in relief when his back didn't react to his change of position.

"You doing alright?" I asked, tilting my head to escape the glare of the sun overhead. "I mean, as soon as I let you go, or you run away-"

Scorpius grimaced.

"-you're not going to go throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower or curse the nearest Gryffindor, present company excepted, right?"

"Of course not," he scoffed.

"You sure?" I pressed. "No post-game suicidal or homicidal thoughts?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he sighed. "I mean, we lost by such a narrow margin that we're still in the running, at least." He scowled. "There's going to be hell to pay when I get back."

I nodded slowly, an idea forming in my head.

"I just keep replaying the whole match," he muttered to himself, picking at the grass with his long slender fingers. "If only I saw that damn Bludger a second earlier—"

"No use thinking about it now," I sighed, sitting upright.

"You leaving?" he asked, a tinge of disappointment colouring his tone.

"Depends… You going to come with?" I asked, brushing grass off my bum and kneeling on the grass.

"Where are you going?" he asked, looking suspicious.

"I was thinking of going for a fly," I said, getting to my feet and peering around the pitch to check that all the stragglers had left.

It was a moment before Scorpius could utter a coherent word. "You, Rose Weasley, want to go… flying?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.

"Yes," I assured him. "It's a nice day. We have the pitch to ourselves; I figured why not?" I turned to toss him a casual smile.

He simply stared up at me, surprise clearly written all over his features. "I don't think I've ever seen you on a broom," he marvelled after a moment, stunned.

"I don't like it," I admitted, "But I'm willing to make a sacrifice."

"What sacrifice?" he asked curiously.

"My pride."

"And why are you sacrificing your pride, Weasley?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"To get your spirits up," I said bracingly, "Nothing like a good mockery to get you all happy again, eh? I figure I can at least get my revenge when you laugh your arse right off your broom when you see me attempting to get in the air. Come on," I encouraged, grabbing his hand and helping him up.

He allowed me to haul him to his feet, listening intently as I kept talking. "You said you wanted to know why I never come to the Quidditch Pitch when my relatives are around," I said as we started walking towards the broom shed. "They're forever trying to get me flying." I shuddered. "I tried it a couple of times, but it never really took, you know? Anyway, once I let on that it wasn't the best thing since diced mandrakes, they never gave me a moment's peace over the whole flying thing." I sighed.

I paused as we reached the school broom shed. I cast a quizzical glance at Scorpius. "Er, which one should I use?" I gestured bemusedly at the school brooms that were neatly lining the walls of the shed.

Scorpius snorted. "None of those. All the school brooms are absolute rubbish, everyone knows that," he said, taking my hand and tugging me towards the other shed a couple of metres away that housed the team brooms.

"Ooh no," I said, slowing as we neared. "Al will positively kill me if I even went within a centimetre of his precious Nimbus. You didn't see him when I almost careened into a badly placed oak tree two summers ago-"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "I'm not going near Al's broom either. Stupid prat would probably have a coronary if he sensed that my presence somehow sullied his precious broom." He leaned forward and reached out to grasp his own Nimbus 3000. "Here," he said, tossing it to me.

I caught it with the tips of my fingers. "Alright," I said, peering further into the shed, "So which one am I going to be using?"

Scorpius turned and smiled. "Mine," he said, selecting another one for himself among his teammates' brooms.

My mouth fell open. "Haven't you been listening to a word I've been saying?" I demanded. "I'm pretty sure this is going to wind up in itty bitty pieces scattered across the Quidditch pitch along with the rest of me."

"You know, as the person who selected this whole activity in the first place, you seem awfully reluctant to put it in action," he observed, shutting the shed and proceeding to the middle of the pitch.

"I just want to let you know what you're getting yourself into," I said, hurrying to keep pace with him.

"And now I know," he said, tilting his head to toss me a smile over his shoulder. "Relax, Rose. I'm sure you're not as bad as you let on," he said bracingly.

I shook my head. "I'm quite awful, really," I told him, blushing.

He studied me for a moment, his head tilted to the side as he took me in; clutching his broom in a death grip and swaying slightly as I stood to release some of my pent up energy. "Change of plans," he said abruptly.

"Oh goody," I said, sighing in relief and letting myself sag against him. I mean I wanted him to smile and all, but bodily harm? There was only so much I was willing to risk for this bloke. Then again, I'm sure if I fell off the damn stick of wood, Scorpius would save me. Sweep down and pluck me right from the air; snog me to see if my lungs were working properly; disrobe me to see if I had any lasting damage…

Or, far more likely, he could just let me fall.

That was real possibility.

"I really hadn't thought this whole thing through," I was babbling as thoughts definitely illegal in several parts of Britain raced through my head. "Nobody in their right mind would ever want to see me up-"

"I'm going to teach you how to fly," he said suddenly.

My throat suddenly went dry, and I could have sworn my knees almost buckled beneath me. "What?" I rasped out.

"You heard me, Weasley," he said, smirking at me, "I'm going to teach you how to fly properly, as you've clearly never had the right teacher."

"Oh really?" I asked, placing a hand on my hip and sending him a stern look.

"Oh really," he repeated genuinely. "Alright, hop on," he said, swinging his leg over his own broom.

"Ohhh no," I said, grinding my heels into the soft grass of the pitch. "This witch is remaining firmly on the ground."

"Mental," muttered Scorpius, before he jumped on his broom and slowly drifted over to where I was standing.

I tossed him a look of disdain.

He pressed his lips together, and his mouth curved down into a frown. He looked away from me, instead he tilted his head and his eyes skimmed the top few stands of the Quidditch Pitch. I heard him sigh slightly, and he hunched himself over on his broom.

"What now?" I groused, my eyes narrowing in suspicion at his doleful expression.

He slowly returned his gaze to me. "You really don't want to learn?"

I gulped.

Merlin, were his eyes always that intense?

I felt my resolve begin to sway.

"…er, no?"

His lips twitched, but he managed to keep his sombre attitude. "If that's what you want, Rose," he said, letting out another sigh. "I suppose I can just go back to the castle and face Meyers and the rest of the Slytherins. You can get to the Gryffindor victory party. Go get smashed, get a quick snog, laugh at an equally smashed Al…" He paused before saying in a defeated voice, "Do you reckon the house elves will deliver firewhiskey to the Slytherin dorms?"

I rolled my eyes, seeing right through his routine. "You are such a drama queen," I retorted, tentatively throwing one leg over the broom. I pushed off slightly, so that I hovered a few inches above the ground. "Happy?" I demanded, glaring at him.

"Ecstatic," Scorpius drawled.

"Alright," I said, taking a tentative look down and then jerking my head back up to catch his amused gaze. "Now what?"

And so began my first proper flying lesson. It wasn't that bad. I mean, Scorpius did spend a great deal of the time sniggering quietly as I fumbled with the most basic manoeuvres, but then there were the times that he was a wonderfully supportive.

"That's it, Rosie," he called after fifteen minutes of teaching, "Don't go too fast; I wouldn't want you to get whiplash when you smash into that stray butterfly that's threatening to pass you."

"Shut it," I growled, my gaze narrowed in concentration.

He flew down to glide beside me.

Okay. So he really flew a couple metres ahead of me and hovered, watching with an amused expression as I slowly drifted past him.

"Now Rose," he chided, "Don't look down, just straight ahead."

I obeyed, and focused instead on his face, smiling slightly at my poor attempts at his favourite sport.

"Just like that," he murmured as I approached him. "Want to go a bit faster? My broom wasn't built for slowpokes such as yourself. It's a racing broom, Rose. See how the clue's built into the title?"

I rolled my eyes. "Alright," I said, a little trepidation creeping down my spine as the broom rapidly started to accelerate.

"That's it Rose," Scorpius said encouragingly, effortlessly keeping pace with me.

I turned to smile at him before nudging my broom a bit faster. It complied, and I was soon speeding along the pitch. After a moment, he fell back to watch me from afar. It was oddly nice to have him watch over me without being too overbearing.

"Rosie, the turn's coming up in a bit!" Scorpius called. "Remember what I told you!"

"Lean into it," I shouted, grinning as I steered the broom around the bend. The trepidation had been replaced with adrenaline, and it was coursing through my veins like fire, making all my nerves stand on end. I suppose that was what blinded me to the reality of the situation. Mainly, that I had no idea what I was doing. I was rubbish at Quidditch, and a half hour lesson wasn't going to change that. I guess I just wanted to impress him. Scorpius adored the stupid sport, and I wanted to be able to share that with him. I'll admit it: when he was lecturing, I let my mind wander a bit. More often than not, it drifted to a picture of the two of us flying off into some random sunset. Incredibly sappy and romantic, I know.

While we were flying, it felt the connection strengthen between us, the connection that had broken and was steadily on its way to mending. True, it still had a long way to go, but I had a hope that flying would be the way to get it back like it was.

Turns out, it was a futile hope.

Why?

Because I was absolute rubbish at flying.

It was only as I felt my fingers slipping along the wood, that I realised I had lost control. My nails scrabbled uselessly against the grips on the handle as my body weight shifted further and further off the broom. I made one last swipe at the broom before I felt my tenuous grasp give way. I felt my stomach jump up into my throat, blocking all sound from escaping.

I couldn't even scream; I was so terrified.

Suddenly, a pair of arms reached out to slow my fall. I exhaled loudly as Scorpius caught me, his forearms slamming into my upper back and upper legs. I looked wildly around me for a moment, my eyes seeking out his face, as pale as death. I squirmed, trying to get comfortable in his arms, but his grip didn't lessen at all. His fingers were gripping me quite hard, digging into my right bicep and thigh.

"Fuck, Rose, are you alright?" he demanded, his grey eyes sweeping me over thoroughly.

"Er, yeah," I said a bit breathlessly, my heart still thundering in my ears and adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I'm okay."

He breathed out a sigh of relief, but there was still doubt lingering behind his eyes. "Let's get you to the hospital wing," he stated, starting to drift his broom down.

"But I said I was fine!" I exclaimed.

"Rose," he said warningly, his eyes giving me another once over. "You just fell ten metres. You're probably in shock."

"I'm fine!" I repeated, struggling a bit in his arms. "I've no broken bones, no fractures… maybe I have a couple of bruises from where your surprisingly strong fingers are cutting off my circulation." I nodded pointedly to where the digits in question were currently pressing hard enough to create five blindingly white patches on my upper arm.

His grip lessened immediately. "Shit, Rose," he cursed, the guilt appearing in the depths of his grey eyes.

"Scorpius," I said, reaching up to brush stray hairs out of his eyes, "I'm fine. Just fell off a broom. I know for a fact Al does it at least twice per practice, more, if he's distracted enough."

His eyes softened under my touch, and I could see the passion drain out of him, slowly but surely. "I can't believe I let you do that," he muttered.

"Hold on," I said, pushing a hand to his chest to still his words. "You forced me to do no such thing. It was my choice to try to round the bend like a maniac racer. I'm sorry. I was an idiot."

His eyes widened immediately. "Pardon?"

"I should've been so reckless," I muttered.

"Reckless?" he repeated flatly. "Rose-" he started.

"I just wanted the whole lesson to go well so that maybe you'd be open to giving me another one sometime soon-"

"You'd want me to teach you how to fly?" he asked, sounding absurdly pleased.

"Yeah," I said, blushing slightly under his gaze. "I mean, it's a terribly useful skill to have, right? And All would never push me to the best of my ability, Hugo would spend far too much time laughing his arse off at my absurd attempts to defy gravity – even more than you would, I mean – and well, I'm not sure who else I'd ask," I rambled. "Not that either of them were my first choice because that would obviously be you, but-"

And there it was.

That wide, bright smile that I had been searching for since the beginning of my sorry little venture into flight.

Scorpius was beaming, and I was babbling.

I quickly shut my mouth, blushing to the roots of my hair.

"Are you asking me for flying lessons, Rosie?" he asked.

"If it's not too much trouble," I said shyly.

"None at all."

He was still smiling. It was just so bright and disarming, that I hadn't even realised I had shifted my position in his arms. My hands were clasped behind his neck, and I had subconsciously been leaning forward, hoisting myself up on my arms to get closer to his smile. And then, quite suddenly, it seemed like I could only focus on his mouth, and how incredibly nice it looked this close up. I tilted my head up and leaned in a little closer –

"Rosie! Hey, Rosie!"

I nearly screamed in frustration. "Albus?" I demanded, squinting at the figure running towards us.

"McGonagall crashed the victory party, and she was all fussed that the Head Girl wasn't there to supervise. I told her you were in the loo, but you'd better get back-" he broke off as he spotted the pair of us. "Oh dear," I heard him mutter. "Am I interrupting something?" he asked innocently.

"Shut it," I snapped, removing my hands from Scorpius and leaping off the broom, which by now was only half a metre above the pitch. "How did you find me?" I demanded, placing my hands on my hips and glaring at my cousin.

"The map," he responded easily.

"Right," drawled Scorpius from behind me. "Now, bugger off."

"But you have to come back! McGonagall will have my wand if you don't appear soon," Al said patiently.

I snorted.

"You'll see her tomorrow," Al continued, turning to Scorpius. "I'm sure you two can go that long without each other…" he finished, drifting off wickedly.

"Al-" I said warning, inwardly wincing at what he was implying. For Merlin's sake, could he be more obvious?

I cast a glance behind me and saw that Scorpius looked equally discomfited. He shook his head, sending Al a significant look.

Either Al was oblivious or chose not to respond because all he did was tug me along behind him despite my protests.

"Why'd you go and interrupt us?" I hissed as soon as Scorpius was out of earshot.

"Felt like it," Al said cheerily. "Anything to mess with the git."

"I was going to kiss him!" I exclaimed angrily.

"Oh," he said, looking surprised. "Sorry." Al offered me sheepish smile.

It made me no less inclined to give him bright green antennae and a tongue the size of a lemon, though.

A/N: Thanks to "Scorpius" (Reviewer, not the character) for giving me the kick in the arse I needed to actually get this finished.

Also, I've written a Rose/Scorpius one shot, but won't let me publish it. I keep getting an "Error Type 2" or something like that. Does anyone know how to fix it?