Apparently my MO is either to bang out a chapter in three days or to spend months struggling against a scene that isn't working, only to scrap it entirely and bang out a new one in three days. *overdramatically kills self* Enjoy! As usual, thanks to TheChirpyWitch for proofing this nonsense!

January 10th, 2028 - 11pm

Al peeled his gaze away from the fireplace to look at Rose, who had just let out a throaty chuckle.

She was lying on the carpeted floor, her legs resting over the seat of the couch and reading some notes. Gone was the sullen mien she usually bore, gone were the glares, the muttered curses, the sighs and the puffs.

Most importantly, gone was that pervasive aura of panic that always surrounded her.

Instead, she seemed to be having a reverse meltdown of sorts: every once in a while, she'd laugh.

At her notes.

Like she was having fun.

Al was afraid to even ask. He had no idea of what was happening to her, but she was acting like an entirely different person.

On the one hand, he wondered whether he should feel concerned.

On the other, he never wanted it to stop. Ever.

Between Rose's prelude of madness and Scorp's messages a few hours earlier, Al wasn't at all sure of what to do with himself.

'Quit Puddlemere but the Magpies thing tanked. I'll be home late, don't wait up.'

The first message had sent him scrambling away from his desk. He'd grabbed his coat, told his coworkers that he 'wasn't feeling very well' and then bolted for the door.

Before he could call Scorp, he'd gotten a second one.

'I'm fine.'

That inspired very little confidence. But no matter how many times he'd called and messaged back, Scorp hadn't answered.

And so Al had gone home and waited.

It was almost 11 p.m. and he was waiting still.

He let go an irritated huff and stood back up, pacing aimlessly around the living room to let out some of the frustration that was eating at him.

"He'll be home soon," Rose said, lowering her (apparently hilarious) notes to her chest. "And he said he's fine."

"Yes," Al grumbled between gritted teeth, "because when people say they're 'fine' they're never lying."

"Worrying won't make him come home faster," she pointed out, pulling her legs down and rolling to sit with her back against the couch. "Go have dinner or something."

It was odd seeing her sitting on the floor rather than her usual spot, but honestly, she looked happy, so he wasn't about to suggest tinkering with any variables that might make her less so.

"Lady Anxiety telling me to chill?" Al asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat on the couch close to her. "What are you on?"

She turned back to face him, draped her arm on the couch and rested her chin on it.

"Hodge recycles exam questions and Boot gave me tailored notes," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "Plus, Penny practically bit that asshole Odgen's head off."

Al blinked and shook his head. "Wow."

"It was a good day."

Scorpius, on the other hand, was possibly having the worst day of his life.

The universe had a weird way of keeping score.

"Does this mean you'll stop having massively fucked up schedules?"

"I mean..." Rose, who was apparently tired of craning her neck to look back at him, got up to her feet and plopped onto the couch next to him. "I'll still have massively fucked up schedules, but I doubt Odgen will be dropping extra shifts or paperwork on my lap any time soon."

She was practically thrumming with energy.

He really should buy Boot and Penny a drink.

"I know you're worried," Rose said, laying on her back and stretching her leg to nudge his nose with her foot, "but we don't know what happened yet."

"Eww, woman." Al grabbed her toe between his index finger and his thumb and pulled it away from his face. "Just disgusting."

She grinned and struggled to bring her foot closer again, an impish grin on her face. "Yes, but am I disgustingly right?"

"If you don't stop sticking your nasty foot on my face, I'll hex it off," Al threatened, grabbing her leg and forcefully lowering it. "And yes, of course you are. Doesn't stop me from worrying about him."

"Do you think he's miserable?"

Now she sounded worried and Al had to bite down a chuckle. "I have no idea."

You didn't need to be a genius to figure out where those two idiots were headed. They'd gone from bickering out of spite, to bickering out of habit; from not being able to stand each other's presence, to subconsciously seeking it out; from 'I hope he gets hit by a Bludger', to 'do you think he's miserable?'.

In a twisted sort of way, Al wished that things would go back to the way they were before. There was a tiny, selfish, petty part of him that yearned for Rose to go back to hating Scorp and for Scorp to go back to hating Rose... just so he could keep them both separate and unchanged.

Fortunately, that was just a tiny part of him; the rest had pretty much started drafting his best man speech and compiling a list of names for their future children.

"Al?"

A foot appeared in his peripheral vision and he smacked it away. "What?"

"I asked whether I should make myself scarce, let you deal with him alone…?"

Damn, she just kept asking difficult questions.

He genuinely didn't know what to answer. Unlike Rose who hugged and comforted, or Scorp who fixed things and analysed his way through problems, Al would be hard-pressed to pinpoint his own MO.

Usually, he'd just do stuff and things would mostly turn out alright… but he'd be damned if he had any idea what that stuff actually was.

And so, as usual, he went with his gut.

"Stay."

And Rose Weasley, who three months prior had declared that she hated Scorpius Malfoy and wanted him to burn in hell, just nodded and waited with him.

January 11th, 2028 - 1 am

It was one on the clock when the fireplace burned green and spat out an ashen-faced Scorp.

"I told you not to wait," the blonde boy said, straightening himself up and throwing the pair of them a look that bordered on resentful. "I'm exhausted, I'm going to bed."

There was nothing 'fine' about the way he looked, but 'exhausted' Al would believe in a heartbeat. His smile was strained and now he really did look like he'd been trampled on by a herd of Thestrals.

Rose's hesitant voice broke the silence. "What happened?"

"Quit Puddlemere and the Magpies already hired someone two days ago. Did you not get my message at all?"

Rose immediately got up to her feet, ready to comfort, to console, to reassure - but the look that Scorp had thrown her had left her hovering with uncertainty. It probably would have been better for all of them if she'd just gone for it and hugged the guy… but she didn't, clearly paralysed by rejection.

Pity. Since Scorp clearly didn't want to talk, physical affection might have been the best way to go at it.

Al might've tried it himself, but he doubted it'd have the same effect.

"I did get your sodding message." Al got up to his feet with practised carelessness, which was no mean feat considering the sucking pit of anxiety that his cousin was now exuding. He resisted the natural urge to ask all the questions that had been left unanswered and changed the topic: "Where've you been?"

"Popped by my parents' to let them know," Scorp said, taking his wand from his pocket and placing it in the bowl. "And before you ask, yes, I had dinner."

At least eating would have bought them some time.

"How well you know me. Are you sure you don't want to stay and chat for a bit?"

"I'm just…" Scorp's shoulders slumped and he shook his head with a defeated look. "I'm just tired. Really tired. It was a long day."

There was nothing lingering about Scorp's attitude. It wasn't that he was exactly unwelcoming, but it was clear that all the guy wanted to do was sleep… and there was nothing they could do about it.

"Get some rest, mate," Al said, shrugging and patting Scorp's shoulder. "We'll talk in the morning."

Scorp did just that. Left, without even throwing them a backwards glance.

There was something anti-climatic and unnatural about it: it was the prerogative of every best friend to bear witness to the misery of their counterparts, to mock them and reassure them… and he'd been all but robbed of it.

Selfish wanker.

"Well, that went well," Al said, throwing his jittery cousin an amused look. "Don't look so down."

"He is miserable."

"Miserable, but also exhausted." Al sat on the arm of the couch and patted the seat next to him. "Can't help it, the bloke goes to bed at eleven every day like an old lady, he must be knackered."

Rose followed him and let herself fall on the couch, looking helpless and utterly frustrated.

"I didn't know what to do," she spat, covering her eyes with her hands. "I froze."

"That you did," Al agreed, wrapping an arm around her head and patting her mass of curls. "He won't mind you hugging him, you know?"

In fact, if the hug from that morning was any indication, Scorp wouldn't be opposed to it at all.

"That was just an impulse." Rose sniffled indignantly and struggled to free herself from his grasp. "I can't just go around randomly hugging the bloke every time I feel-"

"Why not?" Al let go of her with a smile. "If you feel like he could use one, odds are he does. Why's he any different from me or anyone else for that matter?"

Ah, the crux of the matter.

He rested his chin on his hand and watched with evil glee as his cousin's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Isn't he your friend?"

Goading her, just a little.

"He is." Rose looked dead serious, her eyes taking on a hard look. "He is my friend."

"That's… good." Al had to struggle to keep a straight face. "I'm glad you two are getting along."

He wondered whether he should start his speech with a terrible joke or with a really embarrassing anecdote…?

January 11th, 2028 - 5 am

"Stage three, engaged!" His own voice bellowed across the room and, not for the first time since his alarm sequence had kicked in, Half-Asleep Al cursed Awake Al.

Stage one was just an appetizer, really. Al had simply tuned out the shimmering orbs that were blaring "wake up" and other profanities of the sort right next to his ear.

The onslaught of floating objects that would periodically swoop down and whack him over the head in stage two was harder to overlook. Still, covering his face with his arms was perfectly doable... if a bit painful.

Stage three was impossible to ignore.

"You bloody idiot, you have five seconds to hop out of bed," his own recorded voice cried out reproachfully. "Countdown initiated."

Al covered his eyes and groaned. He could feel the bed transfiguring, growing taller inch by inch. It would vanish at about five feet tall, which was a long way to fall, even onto a carpeted floor.

"Five..."

He opened his eyes and wondered if he could get past the wards he'd set against himself and shut the whole thing down in four seconds.

"Four..."

Attempting to outsmart himself in the present circumstances was probably too much to ask for. Also, Awake Al had had the foresight to leave his wand out of reach just in case Half-Asleep Al felt the impulse to try.

"Three…"

Not that a wandless Accio was above his touch if he were really keen but-

"Two… Come on, mate!"

Urgh.

The joyful tone to Awake Al's voice was a bit too much - he should fix that.

"One…"

"Fine, fine!" Out of options, Al kicked the sheets away, grabbed his pillow and jumped out of bed right in the nick of time... just before said bed and every one of its fixings disappeared into thin air. "Eesh."

In the spot where his bed had previously been, there was now nothing but empty floor space. The damned thing would only re-materialize at about seven p.m. which was vastly inconvenient but also infallible at keeping him from going right back in.

Al rubbed the back of his neck and cursed himself under his breath.

A magazine swooshed low, rolled itself and attempted to whack him on the head. Al swatted it away with the back of his hand, at the same time carefully dodging a mortar and pestle that were about to bash his nose in.

"Oh, will you cut it out? I'm up already!"

At the sound of his scolding, the yelling, shimmering orbs from stage one twitched and spun, exploding into a tiny fireworks display.

The assorted flying paraphernalia was a bit more difficult to persuade. It stopped and hovered mid-air for a few seconds as if deciding whether he was awake enough for it to cancel the airstrike and call it a day.

"Oh go on, will you?" Al glared at them. "What do you want me to do, recite the first page of Thornton's Treatise for you?"

That did it. Apparently convinced, the objects shuffled along back to their rightful spot, neatly tidying themselves as the room reset itself for the next morning.

Al sighed.

He really wanted to scrap stage one and stage two as they were both becoming oh-so-incredibly annoying.

Unfortunately, without that nasty bit of foreplay, he doubted he'd actually be awake enough to process that stage three was even happening. He really didn't fancy waking up by falling five feet on a daily basis - not to mention the last time that he'd attempted round three on its own he'd just curled up into a ball and resumed his sleep right there anyway, which kind of beat the point.

This particular sequence had actually been more successful than the previous ones if you took Overall Annoyance, Visible Bruises, Time To Actually Rise and Resulting Mood into consideration.

It was a marked improvement over being dropped into a conjured pool of ice-cold water. The Resulting Mood was a million times better even if Time To Actually Rise had gone to shit.

He glanced over at the timer on the wall: two hours and ten minutes total.

Not bad. Not bad at all. It wasn't ideal but at least he wouldn't be late for… oh.

Right.

He wasn't late at all.

Al wondered briefly if he should attempt to conjure back his bed from whatever weird pocket dimension he'd banished it to, only to dismiss the option as soon as his eyes gleaned the time on the clock. It was five a.m. and he wasn't about to spend the next three hours fighting a second round of his alarm just so he could be up in time for work.

Maybe he'd just ditch work. What was a little lie in the grand scheme of things? He wouldn't even be lying, he'd just be extending his previous lie of 'not feeling so well'.

In his defence, waking up in the middle of a work night to babysit his idiot best friend was mighty good of him... regardless of how long it actually had taken him to respond.

Hopefully, by now, Scorp would be tucked back into his bed.

As he opened the door and shielded his eyes from the light, he realised he was in no such luck.

"Why are you up?" Al groaned, stumbling out of his room, dragging his pillow behind him. "Why can't you two idiots sleep like normal people?!"

A rhetorical question, if there was ever one.

The very reason Al had placed a tripwire spell smack dab outside Scorp's room and linked it to his alarm was because he'd predicted this might happen.

Scorp was crouching down on the floor in the middle of the living room, fully dressed, a heavy wooden box laying in front of him.

"What are you doing, mate?" Al asked in a gentler tone, coming closer and crouching down next to him, wrapping an arm around Scorp's shoulders and giving them an affectionate squeeze. "It's five a.m."

"Trying to figure out if they're broken or just offended," Scorp replied, his eyes never leaving the box. At the sound of his voice, it gave a few violent kicks in his general direction and Scorp placed a soothing hand on top of it that did absolutely nothing to subdue the shaking. "Their hearing is fine, apparently."

The box gave a series of kicks as if to signal its protest.

Scorp gingerly snapped the lid of the box open and Al dropped his arm from his shoulder, staring at the set of Bludgers inside with mild interest. One of them was doing its absolute best to free itself from the clasps holding it down. The other one was just lying listlessly, shaking itself every few seconds like it had developed a nasty tic.

You didn't need to be an expert to know that was odd behaviour for a Bludger.

You also didn't need to be an expert to know that checking out his Bludgers in the middle of the living room at five a.m. was odd behaviour for a Scorpius.

"How long has it been since you've taken them out for a spin?" Al asked, tickling the inert Bludger with a finger. There was no reaction from it, though the one next to it went absolutely wild with murderous intent. "Want me to take a look at them?"

In the morning, of course, not at five bloody a.m.

"There's nothing I'd like better... but I can't sleep and I've run out of things to do."

There was a defensive tone to his voice. For the first time since he'd gotten to the living room, Al took a good look around.

There was a faint whiff of lavender in the air and now that his brain had finally woken up, he noted that there weren't traces of any living, no mugs, no papers, no nothing. Even the damned pillows had been fluffed and Rose's notes and books were aligned into small, even piles.

Merlin, she was going to be livid.

"Have you been stress-cleaning again?" Al asked accusingly. "I thought we'd talked about this."

"No," Scorp said, sniffing indignantly. His gaze met Al's and a rueful half-smile grew on his lips. "Fine, maybe."

"You could've at least stress-baked," Al grumbled, pulling himself to his feet. "I'd rather wake up to cupcakes than this... whatever this is."

He tossed his pillow onto the nearest couch and stretched his arms over his head. There was no way he'd be able to actually go back to sleep now.

"We're out of flour," Scorp shrugged. "This was the next best thing."

'Out of flour'.

Eesh.

"So what was the plan here?" Al asked, letting himself fall down on the nearest couch and hugging his pillow tightly to his chest. "Were you going to take them for a spin now? At five a.m.?"

"Oh, I don't know," Scorp replied irritably, slamming the Bludger box shut. "I don't recall the last time I found myself up at five in the morning without a damned job." He paused for a few seconds and set the box carefully against a side table. "What do you propose I do with myself instead? Go back to sleep, is it? Ignore the fact that when I wake up in an hour I'll have absolutely nothing to do?"

"Scorp, you've barely been out of a job for twelve hours," Al said calmly. "Plenty of people-"

"Oh, great. Now you're going to tell me that 'plenty of people don't have jobs'?" Scorp shook his head. "That's helpful, thank you, really, for the insight you're providing into this world of unemployment which you have obviously experienced first hand."

The last time he'd seen Scorp looking so distressed was back when the N.E.W.T.s had been owled home and Scorp had realised his Potions grade wasn't an Outstanding as they'd all assumed, but an Exceeds Expectations.

"Scorp, you're panicking." It was ungodly just how much Al wanted to laugh at that particular moment. He struggled to keep a straight face rather than outright mock his best friend as nature demanded. "And as entertaining as this is to watch, I'd like you to take a deep breath and sit the fuck down."

"I'm not panicking." Scorp rolled his eyes - but he did sit down, even if only to prove that he was in fact as collected as he claimed to be.

"Listening to the voice of reason for once, that's a good lad," Al said, tossing the pillow he'd been holding in Scorp's general direction. "Now talk me through this: if I suddenly got kicked out of Gringotts, what should I do?"

"You'd never get kicked from Gringotts," Scorp scoffed without a moment's hesitation. "Everyone at Gringotts and their mothers would trade their first-borns for you."

Damn right they would.

"Entertain the hypothetical for a while," Al said, leaning back against the couch, and closing his eyes with a shadow of a smile on his face. "I'm out of a job. What do I do?"

"That's a shitty example mate." Al couldn't see Scorp's face, but he was pretty sure he was scowling. "You could just owl the Curse-Breaking Department in the Ministry and they'd pretty much hire you on the spot."

"How's it different then?" Al opened his eyes to throw a side glance at Scorp. "I'm good, you're good. What Teams have shit Beaters? Or what teams have old, ready-to-retire Beaters, at least?"

"Other than Puddlemere and the Magpies?"

"Obviously."

Al opened one of his eyes to peer at Scorp: he was still anxiously fiddling his thumbs, but there was something about his demeanour that was slowly changing.

"The Beating scene is surprisingly good this year if I'm honest," Scorp said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "Not a lot of truly crummy Beaters out there."

Al gave himself a mental pat on the back. Now to drive the point home.

"Indulge me. Which ones?"

"The Arrows are fine, they have Harper and Collins and they'll still last a few good years. The Bats could be doing better but-"

The nerd was actually going at it alphabetically.

"Spare me the ones who are fine," Al said, waving his hand dismissively. "Just get me the ones who could use an improvement on the Beater front."

"There's… well, the Cannons, but that goes without saying, they could use an improvement on every front. The Kestrels, the Catapults and the Wasps have ageing players, though they're not bad per se. Pride definitely needs new Beaters, but they already have two new green players. I haven't seen them play yet, but they could turn out to be spectacular."

"Better than you?"

"Heavens, no," Scorp scoffed disdainfully. "The Falcons were looking a while ago and they found Paris and Kenna, but from what I've heard they haven't gelled with the rest of the team. Same for the Harpies, but-"

"You're more of a girl than some of their players, it's always worth a shot," Al said, lazily stretching out his arm over the back of the couch and resting his cheek on it. "What else you got?"

"There's the Tornadoes, I guess…?"

"So we have Bats, Cannons, Pride of Portree, Falcons, Harpies and Tornadoes."

"Probably scratch the Cannons and the Harpies," Scorp said, rolling his eyes. "First because they're shit and second because… well, they're not shit, but the odds of them hiring me are even slimmer than the odds the Cannons have of ever winning the Cup."

"None then."

"Nil."

"How very sexist."

"It's not sexist, it's tradition."

Al chuckled lightly. "And your penis would break tradition, is it?"

"Still, there's a few options," Scorp continued, ignoring him with all the self-possession of one who thought dick jokes were beneath him. "You think James or Holly would be willing to look into it for me?"

He was looking excited now. Al could see the little boxes in Scorp's brain slowly shuffling themselves into order. A little more of this and he'd be fine... and Al could go back to his warm bed. Or Scorp's bed, since he doubted he could conjure his back from whatever pocket dimension he'd sent it to.

"All you need to do is ask. James will be thrilled, you know how fond he is of talking shit about Quidditch Players. He'll tear a couple of Beaters to shreds and they'll thank him for it. And Holly's a peach, she'll write an article about you that'll make every heart in Britain reach out to you in… er... sympathy."

"I don't want pity," Scorp protested. "I just-"

"You misheard me," Al replied, a small smirk curling his lips. "When I said sympathy, I meant every single Witch Weekly reader will want to shag you."

Scorp's face scrunched into a scowl. "Really?"

"It's what she does best." Al shrugged. "Why do you think people like the Arrows so much?"

Because Holly and her silver tongue kept playing them up to be the best thing that had happened to Britain since… ever, really.

"Will I have to give her an interview?" A strained groan escaped Scorp's lips. "That sounds ghastly."

Of course, Scorpius was the only person in Britain who would balk at the idea of having fans.

"Oh, you'll hate it but it'll do you a world of good."

Dolt.

"My parents told me they'd get me an interview at Olyphant's," Scorp said, leaning back with feigned casualness. "So that is a thing."

Al's eyes snapped open at the word 'Olyphant's'.

"The Olyphant's?"

A bitter smirk curled Scorp's lips. "The one and the same."

After Hogwarts, Scorp would have killed for one of two things: an internship at Olyphant's Potion Emporium or a Beater position at Puddlemere. Unfortunately, his shit Potions N.E.W.T. hadn't allowed him to pursue the former and the latter had only materialised a few months too late.

That was how he'd found himself pushing paperwork at the Ministry in a soul-sucking job that had rid him of any political ambitions he might have entertained at one point - though Al sincerely doubted Scorp ever had any ambitions of the sort.

And now here he was, with Olyphant's being all but handed to him on a silver platter.

"Is that something you'd like to do?"

Rhetoric seemed to be his M.O. today.

Of course Scorp would like to do it, he just needed to reach that brilliant conclusion himself and possibly rid himself of any pesky scruples that told him that using his contacts was 'wrong'.

"Maybe…?" Scorp leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. "I haven't actually brewed anything since…"

It wasn't uncertainty, more of a neutral statement. Scorp didn't do uncertainty about himself and his skills. Albus for one was glad he wouldn't have to actually reassure Scorp about his potioneering prowess or lack thereof - mostly because he himself had only passed his Potions N.E.W.T. by the skin of his teeth and with a lot of help from Rose.

"The Everburning Amortentia candles, yes."

Scorp said, yawning. "I'm not going to lie, it'd be brilliant. But if they refused me out of Hogwarts when I was at my best, they're probably not going to-"

"You idiot," said a voice that belonged to neither of them.

Al's eyes shifted to the doorway where Rose was standing, leaning against the wall. Her hair was impossibly tousled and she was wearing her pyjamas.

"How long have you been lurking there?" Al asked, lowering his legs from the couch to make room for her. "Up already or not asleep yet?"

He didn't bother asking her if they'd woken her. The spell on her room was a masterpiece the likes of which he would probably never achieve again. He'd poured his all into it, stacking spells upon spells together to make sure nothing would disturb her, synchronized and entwined in a harmonious arcane symphony.

There was the milder version of Bewitched Sleep involving principles of aromatherapy that would promote good rest, there was the Soothing Spell that had taken him weeks of tinkering to get dialled down to just the right level, there was the soundproofing with sound notes of her parents' house, there was that Comforting Aura that had been a bitch to get just right, there was that Feng-Shui spell he'd gotten from one of his mates at Gringotts…

No, they couldn't possibly have woken her. Which meant she was up for the same reason as Al - because she was concerned and didn't want Scorp to have to get up and face this Brave New World all on his own.

"Up already," Rose specified, walking toward the couch and letting herself fall down on the space between the two of them. She pinched Al's pillow from his grasp and hugged it tightly against her chest. "And long enough. I was going to leave you two nitwits to it, but then Scorp started that nonsense about them not taking him when he was in his potioneering prime…"

"And you decided that calling him an idiot was a great way to join the chat," Al said, shaking his head and affectionately ruffling his cousin's hair. "Why's he an idiot? Apart from his regular, run-of-the-mill, existential idiocy, of course."

"The only reason they didn't hire you were your stupid N.E.W.T.s, which you'd have to retake anyway since they've expired by now." Rose leaned back against the couch and gave Scorp's shoulder a condescending pat. "And this time we can make sure you get a panel of examiners who aren't garbage."

"They weren't all garbage," Scorp said, rolling his eyes. "It was only the Arithmancy and Charms ones, the rest of them were fine."

Rose scoffed. "Just because the Arithmancy teacher was the only one who was openly hostile and Al was only there to witness the absolute calamity that was your Charms N.E.W.T, that doesn't mean-"

She seemed to collect herself and awkwardly stopped mid-sentence.

"What, Rosie dear?" Al asked sweetly, lips curled into a small smile. "What doesn't that mean?"

She glared over at him, lips pursed into a thin line. He knew exactly what it meant and he also knew that she didn't want to say it.

He also knew that Scorp needed to hear it.

Throwing your best friend under the bus to help your other best friend was as good a plan as any.

"Fine," Rose hissed between gritted teeth. "You want me to get into that?"

"Yes, I think it'll be productive."

"What will be productive?" Scorp asked, eyes shifting between the two of them.

The facts of the matter were simple: after the N.E.W.T. results had arrived, Al had kicked up a fuss so grand that Scorp had finally agreed to retake the N.E.W.T.s he'd so obviously been robbed at.

The Charms exam had obviously been a debacle to anyone with two eyes. Al hadn't actually sat for Arithmancy, but had heard from reliable sources that it had been an absolute carnage.

Scorp had succumbed to his indignant scolds and retaken the damned practical portion of the test. The end result had been that his Acceptable in Charms had been bumped up to an Exceeds Expectations and the outrageous Poor he'd gotten in Advanced Arithmancy had somehow morphed into an Outstanding.

Now, Al had been quite pleased with the end result… for a while.

A few months after that, Rose had let slip a comment in passing that had led him to think that the harm was perhaps more insidiously widespread than just Charms and Arithmancy - specifically, in Potions.

"You're such a damned pest sometimes," Rose said, shaking her head and smacking a pillow against his face. "What good is it now?"

Al snatched the pillow from her hands and smacked her in return.

"Tell the bloke!"

"How about you mind your own damn business?"

Scorp's pale hand got in the middle of the scuffle and plucked the pillow away from their grasp.

"You two need to stop bickering," he said, placing the pillow behind his head and resting back against it. "I don't even know if I want to do it."

"Scorp, you just said it'd be brilliant," Al groaned. "You wanted it so bad-"

"That was four years ago. Can you even imagine going back to taking tests?" He glanced over at Rose and a small smile curled his lips. "No offence."

"None taken," Rose said, shaking her head. She seemed to have relaxed by now, which was unfortunate because Al really, really wanted her to let the cat out of the bag. "I can always help you study if that's what you're concerned about."

"Would you?"

Al sighed.

Rose barely had the time to study herself, much less tutor Scorpius - who didn't even need her help studying Potions, of all things - and yet here she was, taking yet another weight onto her frail shoulders.

She'd never learn.

"Sure," Rose said, a slight edge to her voice. "Are you going to be a pest about it?"

War flashbacks of the three of them stuck in a study classroom flickered through Al's mind, making him shudder. This was a terrible idea if there ever was one.

"Me?" Scorp's look was all innocence as his fingers tugged one of her curls. "When have I ever been anything but an absolute delight?"

Albus groaned. Why, oh why, was he stuck in the middle of this awkward, weird, pathetic, slow burn of a thing?

"I take back my offer, you can study on your own," Rose huffed, smacking his hand away and getting up to her feet. "What's that anyway?"

Al followed Rose's gaze and a grin curled his lips. The bludger box had been kicking its way to the couch ever since they'd moved, like an extremely slow predator.

"Scorp's Balls," he replied, immediately getting struck with a pillow for his troubles. He held it tight on his lap and fended off Scorp's attempts to steal it from him. "He keeps them locked up so he doesn't accidentally use them."

Rose stepped aside, eyeing the box warily. The box stopped for a few seconds, then shifted its trajectory, this time clearly aiming for the moving target.

"I think they like you," Albus continued, letting go of the pillow and consequently sending Scorp - who had been tug-of-warring it with him - crashing back against the couch. "Look at them go."

Scorp let out a series of nasty expletives, his face an obvious shade of red.

Next to him, Rose was glaring at him, her cheeks also tinted pink.

In a stroke of (not-so-rare) genius, Albus took in the picture before him and made one of his famous gut calls.

"Now I'm going to bed," he said, forcing a yawn. "I take it you two ninnies aren't going back to sleep, so I'll be taking whichever of your beds is most comfortable for the next, say, three to five hours?"

When he brushed past Rose, he pulled her aside and whispered, "He's your problem now. I strongly advise taking him for a spin."

"He's not a dog, Al, he doesn't need to be walked."

"No," Al agreed, nodding gravely. "He's a depressed Quidditch Player."

"You don't mean flying?" Rose whispered back, her eyes wide with panic. "With a broom?"

"He's been cooped up with you for two weeks without slamming a Bludger once." He eyed the Bludger box thoughtfully: if there was one thing that could pull Scorpius Malfoy from his sullens, it was a good session of physical violence. "Think of it as therapeutic batting. I'd take him myself, but I'm knackered."

"But…" She looked downright terrified. "You know I can't-"

It'd have been too much to expect careless, foot-on-the-face Rose to stick around for long.

What a shame.

"You don't need to fly yourself," he assured her, lying through his teeth like a lying liar. "Take your magical notes, just… be there for him."

And fine, he wasn't really knackered and no, Scorpius didn't look too depressed… but somehow, it seemed like a good idea.

The best part? It didn't require him to do any actual work.

For those of you who actually read these... Chapter 21 is already written out and proofed, but Chapter 20 isn't. Hopefully, my muse stays alive long enough that I can write Chapter 20 and then post them both in a relatively short while. Also, I posted a companion piece to Witch Slap called 'Just Carry The Squiggle' from their Hogwarts days. It should shed some light on why Al thinks it's a horrible, horrible idea for Scorp and Rose to study together XD

The next chapter should be cute tho in a "why is he so close and why are my feet so far from the ground" sort of way :D After that there's going to be a time skip to ch.21, which happens about a month later (wait, is that the chapter where we finally meet Kate Towler? :O), and after that, we'll be right back on track. Hopefully...?

*shrug* I honestly don't know anymore. The Witch Slap characters will do whatever it is they want to do and all of us will just get dragged along for the ride.

As usual, reviews, subscribes, favourites and other assorted forms of validation are appreciated. Just be aware that commenting "please update" is going to have the opposite effect on me - I'm a contrarian by nature. And yes, I do infinitely appreciate that you guys want to read more and took the time to leave a line... but telling me something you like about WS is just better bang for your buck.

I do try to reply to reviews (usually right before or after I post a new chapter) but it's a little awkward here on ffn, I always feel like I'm stepping on a stalkery weird line with the Personal Messaging thing so I'm sorry if my social awkwardness gets the best of me and I don't reply.

This last chapter was brought to you by justawillowtree from HPFT who reviewed the hell out of Witch Slap in the past week and basically forcefully CPR'd my muse back to life with caps lock and kind words! Special thanks to enchantedteapot (she's also a phenomenal writer and she ALSO does scorose, you should go check her out), to MoonstoneAndStardust (she has one of my fave scoroses ever, called Falling For You) and to DaniProngs and fearinourminds who consistently chuck love at my head.

Finally I hope Corona has chilled a little where you're from and that you're all staying safe *hugs*