"Ugh, why does Transfiguration require so much concentration?" Greg exclaimed. "Charms is like, 'jab your wand, say this,' voila but Transfiguration's all like, 'You have to swish with your wand, but move your arm just so, say that, visualise viscosity, focus until your eyeballs almost pop out of your head,' then maybe, maybe, it will work."

Greg had clearly not appreciated the 6th year Transfiguration final.

The group was lounging around the Slytherin Common Room after completing their practical Transfiguration exam.

Isobel joined them, sitting next to Sam as close as humanly possible, and with Rose not around acting relatively normal.

.

Rose was the only one absent, as she had stayed back to chat to Professor Robins, their Transfiguration teacher, although why she wanted to do such a thing was beyond the rest of them.

Bee, who was sitting next to Greg on the black leather couch, patted him on the arm to comfort him (or patronise him) as she laughed at his impressions.

"You know Greg, you're impersonation of subjects really is quality comedy."

She lowered her voice and imitated him, "Charms is all like, then Transfiguration's like-"

.

Greg twisted his head to turn to face Bee, face incredibly dead serious, "Is that sarcasm I detect? I'm going to need you to admit that I personify Charms and Transfig in an absolutely accurate and relatable fashion, or there may be dire consequences..."

Bee looked back at him, "You don't scare me Greg," she scoffed in incredulity, just to hone in the point.

Knowing Bee wouldn't back down, it was all the excuse he needed to promptly jump up and sit down on top of her.

"You're heavier than Hagrid!" "Why me?!" "Help! I'm being squished to death!"

Bee tried to squirm away, but Greg was a short and stocky sixteen-year old with a rather impressive talent for resembling an immovable boulder.

Everyone laughed at her groans and protests, but they were too busy enjoying her attempts to push him off to help, obviously.

Rose slipped quietly into the room and grinned at the rambunctious group's antics.

She threw off her robe and sat down on the seat closest to the entrance of the common room to relax after her chat with Professor Robins.

.

Sam's head turned as he felt the couch sink from the weight of someone sitting next to him.

Before he had consciously registered it was Rose, his hand reached out automatically and gently stretched out a stray red curl, smirking as he let it go and it sprung quickly back into Rose's face.

The corners of her lips tugged upwards into a smile, and she let out a giggle as her hand shot out and pinched his nose, which he tried to deflect but failed, settling for pinning down her other hand onto the couch.

It was only a small interaction, and previously quite an average one, no one else in the group really noticed but Isobel clearly found it a compromising situation.

She looked over, while Sam's hand was holding Rose's wrist and Rose's hand was pinching Sam's nose, and asked with a look of distaste, "What are you doing?"

Her tone was harsh enough that everyone stopped their own conversations and looked over to see what all the fuss was about.

.

Sam and Rose both quickly dropped their arms, Rose laughing nervously then rubbing the back of her neck, "Oh just old bad habits. We always used to muck around like that when we were younger."

Sam just sat there without any explanation, shocked at himself, he couldn't believe he'd forgotten for a moment that Rose and him weren't really on mucking-around terms.

.

Confused, everyone lost interest and started up their old conversations again, Bee being the loudest, "Greg I am this close to hexing you, get - off - me."

"Scorpius," Isobel growled out tersely, "Can I talk to you alone for a second?"

Rose grimaced and squeezed herself deep into the couch as Sam and Isobel walked past her and out of the Common Room in a huff.

.

.

"I can't believe you!"

"Izzy please-"

"What was that?"

"It was nothing, it was an old habit, we used to be friends!"

"You haven't even looked at her once in months and then you go and act like you're best friends? Is something going on between you two?"

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous!"

.

Isobel let out a scream of frustration, which echoed off the stone walls of the empty potions classroom they were in.

"I hate this feeling! This is not me Scorpius, I have never been an insecure, jealous person. I lash out at Rose all the time and the truth is, it's not even her fault. I know you still have feelings for her, you're probably only dating me to make her jealous-"

Sam grabbed her arms and stared intensely into her eyes, "I would never do that to you Izzy. I would never do that to anyone. I care about you, that's the only reason I'm dating you, you know that."

Tears started to well up in Isobel's eyes and she turned her face away and looked at the ground.

.

"You may care about me, but you love her, I know it."

Frustration bubbled up inside of Sam, it seemed no matter how hard he tried to hate Rose she still kept interfering in his life.

Why didn't anyone understand that Rose had hurt him, rejected him, toyed with his emotions and now he just wanted to move on.

.

"I do not love her, I hate her!"

Isobel pulled her arm from his, as she said bitterly, "It's the same thing with you two! It always has been. You 'hated' each other so much you were practically dating before you started seeing me."

Sam stepped closer to her and cupped her face in his hands, trying to calm her down by wiping away the tears that had dripped down her cheeks, "Izzy please don't do this, I don't want to lose you…"

.

He searched her face for some hint of softness, any sign of forgiveness, but all he could see was anger and resentment.

Isobel looked up into his eyes, her mouth set determinedly, and her eyes hard and cold.

"I'm not stupid. I can see the way you two are with each other and the history you've had and I'm just not cut out to be your convenient second option. I don't think this is working out."

Sam immediately dropped his arms and stepped back, his heart sinking.

.

"If that's how you feel, then fine," he stared at the floor, resisting the urge to try to hide his emotions, he wanted Isobel to know she mattered to him.

He looked so crushed that for a moment Isobel second-guessed herself, surprised to see tears welling up in his stony grey eyes.

"It's always been an issue and it's always going to be an issue because I don't want to feel like an in-between girlfriend on your way back to Rose. "

Turning away, Sam rubbed his forehead in frustration, trying to smooth out the tension that had been building in his temples, "You are not an in-between girlfriend, I don't want to make my way back to fucking Rose Weasley-"

"Are you seriously saying that if Rose told you she wanted to be with you, you would turn her down?"

"Of course I would!"

"I don't believe you!" She paused sadly and reached to lift up his chin, "I'm sorry Scorp, I wish I could get past this but… I don't think I can."

She leaned over and kissed his cheek gently, her heart heavy with the end but also incredibly relieved.

For so long Isobel had been afraid to lose him, afraid that she wasn't enough, that what they had wasn't real.

Finally, she could just let go as a huge weight of anxiety was lifted off her heart, she felt so relieved and she knew she had made the right decision.

"Goodbye," she whispered, and she quickly turned and left the room, Sam still standing right where she had left him, unable to move.

.

He felt cheated.

He had done nothing but hate Rose.

He had done nothing except cut Rose out of his life and she was still coming back to haunt him, the spectre of her presence hovering over his head.

He had given everything to Isobel, put up with her calling him Scorpius every fucking day, it seemed so unfair that after almost a year, it was all crumbling out from beneath him.

.

Sam had never felt so alone, as he sat on one of the desks in the cold and empty classroom.

'When am I going to stop fucking up so completely?' Sam thought to himself.

It would be a long time before he stopped asking himself that question.