Saturday 18th February

They were on the tail end of winter now, and while it was pure optimism to insist that it was growing warmer, there was a lack of bite to the air as Taki, Rose and Albus made their way to the Three Broomsticks. Albus' birthday was the following day, and he'd insisted on a quiet gathering of his favourite people, and a few drinks at a table near the bar's hearth.

"If the Hogsmeade trip had fallen after my birthday I could buy a proper drink." Albus grumbled as they walked in, looking pointedly at the students who cupped glasses of Firewhiskey in their hands, a proud symbol of their barely-adulthood.

Taki rolled his eyes, "You know Hannah well enough, I'm sure she'll bend the rules for you."

Albus seemed to perk up a little at the idea of a stiff drink, and the group negotiated around the crowds, lucky enough to spot a table only a few metres from the bar's central fireplace. A few empty glasses of Butterbeer littered its surface, but Taki took them up to the bar, promising he'd shout the first round.

After hearing so much about Taki, this was the first time Rose had actually spent significant time with Albus' beau outside of Hogwarts. So far, she'd had nothing but a good impression of the man. Rose especially liked the way Taki's eyes softened a little when he watched Albus talking, even if it did inspire an unmissable pang of bittersweet envy in Rose's gut.

Though Albus had invited his 'favourite people' to celebrate his coming of age at the Three Broomsticks, but there was a notable absence.

Rose watched Taki's progress across the bar floor, not wanting to look at Al as she 'casually' bought it up, "You know, I don't mind if Scorpius comes along. This is your birthday, and it should be about you, not us."

Al sighed, probably recognizing the careful tone in Rose's voice, and the way she suddenly sat a little stiff in her chair, "I did extend the invitation to him—whether he chooses to show is his decision."

Rose reached up to toy with a piece of her hair—a nervous tick—but feeling the change in length, and knowing she was capable of standing up against herself, was a grounding feeling,

"I'm sorry," she blurted, "I don't want the problems between me and Scorpius to affect your relationship with him—I never have."

Albus knew, she'd expressed as much in past years, even if she was still learning to actually articulate it, "I know, Rose. And I appreciate that. But I think the ball is in Scorp's court on this one."

Taki arrived back with the drinks—two Firewhiskeys and a Butterbeer, as May 18th was still painfully far for Rose—and the trio clinked glasses loudly in celebration of Al's almost birthday. The other bar patrons in their immediately vicinity caught wind, and Al was soon awarded many slaps on the back and promises for a drink shout.

"It's not my birthday yet." He reminded them with a bashful smile, going pink from attention all the same and hiding behind his glass.

But they cleared away soon enough, leaving the three of them to enthusiastic conversation and even more enthusiastic drinking. Rose even snuck a few sips of Al's drink as the boy got a little ruddy-cheeked, but it only made him more giggly and, if Taki's shock was anything to go by, his hands were wandering a little under the table. It was only more profound because Al didn't usually drink, but he'd sworn his seventeenth was as good a time as any to indulge, so the others—out of curiosity—had agreed.

After nearly snorting her third Butterbeer at a joke made by Taki, Rose realized this was the happiest she'd been since the tiding of the New Year. Rose's 2023 had not started on the best foot, and now that she was feeling the carefully familiar warmth of sore-ribbed, drink-snorting joy, it was in clear juxtaposition of the place she'd been for the past month. It was cautious, filling a place in her chest that had felt largely vacant, but it was so tender and kind that it was a reminder of Rose's losses.

It wasn't as though she'd said good-bye to Scorpius, if she'd ever really had him in the first place. Maybe that was what hurt most of all, the lack of closure she'd been given. But it had felt like something between them had been given the opportunity to grow, and they'd awkward cultivated it in their strange, not-quite courtship. The foundations had existed for years, even if Rose had ignored them, but it was the first time in their six years that Rose recognized the sparkle in his eye when they interacted, which she had misdiagnosed at hatred.

So a confession of her feelings had felt overdue, and she'd spent too much time imagining them together—imagining him confessing the same, imagining them building something stable, imagining sneaking into the Slytherins dorms to share a bed with Scorpius, not Albus.

She'd told her friends his feelings were irrelevant—that she'd tell him either way, that it was the truth that mattered. But Rose had underestimated how it'd feel seeing him across the hall, Lauren Avery wrapped around him like Devil's Snare.

Rose did try to write it off—but a mental rewrite of that volume apparently required a day in bed, which turned into a week in bed, until it felt as though there was a medicine ball pressing into her chest, pinning her there, and she couldn't shift it off.

Ridiculously enough, the thing that had finally spurned her into action was the realisation that her library ban had ended—and that she could reclaim her unofficial official seat by the big window. The thought of the space being dominated by snotty first-years stirred her into such a passionate rage that she managed to roll out of bed and have a shower.

What she hadn't accounted for, however, was the onslaught of memories that would assault her in the very chair, as she attempted to catch up on missed classes. The events that had transpired between her last stint in her spot and her current one would've been unforeseeable to her previous incarnation. The memory of his hand fisted in her hair, both in the library and during their last detention, were so vivid that Rose had felt like her body didn't belong to her anymore. Instead it felt like a museum of the things they could've been.

So, instead of studying, she'd stormed to Magda and insisted she cut her hair off, just so Rose could reclaim herself—making a decision over her body that was completely self-led. Luckily, Magda had agreed, because Rose knew she'd have butchered it if she'd tried it herself. Now it sat an inch longer than her jawline, the shortest she'd ever had it in her life. She didn't count on how satisfying the surprise of those around her would be—even a brave second-year had approached her in the hallway and asked why she'd done it. Rose knew her hair was her identifier, which was maybe why it was so liberating.

And it had been a tentative upswing from there—Rose could feel herself coming out of the other side, recognizing that she'd made it out okay. The month before, when she struggled to make it out of bed to even use the bathroom, it hadn't felt so likely.

Albus was swaying a little as he excused himself to 'the water closet' as he so eloquently phrased it. They watched him nearly trip over the leg of a bar stool before he was righted by a patron and went on his way.

"I wasn't looking to get him sloshed," Taki sounded surprised, "he's only had two."

Rose snorted, "He hasn't built up a tolerance—he hasn't even touched a drink since we were fifteen. I think the whole experience put him off."

A mischievous grin played around Taki's mouth, "Now that sounds like a story you should tell me while Al isn't around to get embarrassed."

"Oh God," Rose cringed, "it incriminates the both of us, really. See, we thought my father wouldn't notice a bottle missing from his liquor cabinet. And we also had no idea how deceptively strong the port would be, it's very sweet. But I do want to clarify that we were only fifteen and we had no idea what we were doing."

Taki laughed, "Merlin, did you finish the bottle?"

Rose nodded, "It's very easy to drink, unfortunately. I got off lightly, I think. I was just happy drunk, whereas Albus spent the whole time vomiting in my parents' compost bin. The worms seemed pretty happy about the whole situation, though."

Taki laughter was infectious, and even Rose was giggling at the memory of a young Albus kneeling over a stinky compost bin all green faced and miserable as Rose climbed trees and skipped around merrily.

Maybe it was warmth and a few glasses of Butterbeers that had slowed Rose's reflexes, but it was Taki who noticed the figure who'd joined them at the table. But 'joined them' wasn't the right way to describe it—instead the figure stood menacingly over their table, looking between them like he was searching for evidence of a crime.

"Am I interrupting something?" Scorpius snapped.

It was funny to feel both horror and elation at the same time—Rose had spent weeks being ignored by Scorpius, not allowing her to get near him, and had struggled with grieving for a person she still saw every day. But she also despised him in ways she never had before, for how he'd fucked her around, and for how he'd gone and made himself so important to her.

But then it caught up with Rose what Scorpius was seeing, and what he still didn't know about Albus—or Taki, for that matter.

"Oh!" Taki seemed to click as well, "Oh, we're not—"

But Scorpius was already leaving the pub, with enough rage to catch the murmured attention of the other patrons.

Taki looked confused, "Does Scorpius not know about Albus and I?"

Rose shook her head, knowing it wasn't a conversation she should be having with Taki. Instead she felt herself pushing her chair back, finding her way to her feet with a conviction she hadn't experienced in weeks. Maybe it was Butterbeer, but she could feel a familiar fury beginning to brew, one that was so classic she'd almost missed it—and she knew she needed to punch Scorpius Malfoy right in his fat blonde head.

"I'll be right back." She said quickly, not sparing a glance for Taki as she marched across the bar for the door, the same one Scorpius had flung through in one of his pig-headed temper tantrums.

"Rose?" she heard after her, but she was teeth-grindingly furious for reasons she couldn't pin down but, as per usual, her more extreme emotions were caused and centred around Scorpius bloody Malfoy.

She made her way into the snow, recognising too late that she'd left her coat draped over her chair in the pub, but suddenly she spotted him, unmissable in tailored charcoal robes and his furious strides in the direction of the carriages, and she rushed to catch him, nearly slipping in the slushy, half-melted snow beneath her.

The boy was only a few feet ahead of her when she called, "You absolute arsehole!"

Scorpius stopped abruptly and whipped around, his fury matching hers, staining his cheeks a light pink, "Excuse me?"

"I said," Rose was finally in front of him, and she drew herself up despite the stinging cold, "you complete and utter prick!"

His posture tightened, and Rose realized he was clutching a parcel wrapped in green paper in his gloved hand, "You can't—"

"Yes I can!" she exploded, jabbing an icy finger into his chest. They were right in the middle of the main path, she knew people were watching, but she was too furious to care, "I think I've earned the fucking right, don't you?! You act so outraged when you think I'm with someone, as though you haven't had Lauren over you like a rash since the term began! Did that last detention not happen?"

"You're making a scene—"

"No!" she cut him off, "You'll shut up and listen, until I'm bloody well done! Alright?!" She took a sharp breath, she wasn't sure when anger had turned to threatening tears, but she blinked them back, "You at least owe me an explanation, alright? Because you act so bloody charming, like we're great—playing late night Quidditch games with me, getting friendly with all the Veritaserum nonsense… you even poisoned Selwyn! What am I supposed to think, huh? Is that just what you do with all your enemies?!"

Scorpius didn't look angry anymore, he just looked restrained, his jaw clenched like he was fighting to keep his expression neutral, desperately trying not to give anything away.

"And then—then you cut me off! I finally go to tell you how I feel, and you've gotten off with Lauren Avery! Like nothing ever went on between us, like I'd imagined the whole thing! You fucking gaslighted me, and for weeks and weeks I thought it was all in my head, I thought there was something wrong with me!"

Rose swore she saw the tiniest crack in his façade, something broke behind his eyes, but she wasn't nearly done, her frustration only mounting,

"So you're not allowed to act outraged if you see me having a drink with someone, alright?! I can have drinks with as many people as I want—I could've been sticking my tongue down Taki's throat and you wouldn't deserve even a sliver of outrage!"

He exhaled through gritted teeth—he was still so stiff, "I'm sorry." He muttered, so quietly it could've been a trick of the wind.

Rose scoffed, "No, you're not. If you were sorry, you would've talked to me. You would've come to me before you'd strutted Avery around like a show pony—you wouldn't have blocked me out when I deserved an explanation. And you especially wouldn't have made me develop feelings for you when you knew nothing was going to come of it."

For all her shouting, that was what finally struck the nerve that sent Scorpius' impenetrable expression crumbling. She watched it slipped, confused as to why she'd gotten through in her resignation and not her rage.

"You're right." He ran a shaking hand through his hair, and Rose traced the action with a familiar pang, "I should've let it be—but I'm selfish, so I couldn't. I—"

Rose kept quiet, just watching him, prompting him to continue. Whatever it was, Scorpius was talking gulping breaths as he tried to force it out. The students that filled Hogsmeade still watched them warily, and Rose was more aware of their eyes as she watched Scorpius' breathing grow more ragged, his shaking more pronounced.

"I told you a lie under the Veritaserum."

Rose shook her head, "That's impossible, you can't—"

"It wasn't a whole truth, but apparently real enough for the Veritaserum to let up." He explained, "I told you that I call you Roza because of my governess, which isn't wrong, but—" he looked around them, scowling at all the people pretending not to be watching them, "I think maybe we should go somewhere a bit quieter."

They walked in silence to the clearing before the Shrieking Shack, relieved to find it empty, and Scorpius carefully lowered himself to a boulder. Rose preferred to stay standing, watching as Scorpius played with the collar of his robes, before twisting the fingers of his gloves tight around his fingers, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find the words,

"The whole concept of the Roza demon was her fatality—how she was so hard to resist, for her beauty and her magic—but she was a guaranteed death. You weren't supposed to want her—it would only end in tragedy." He sighed, "I needed to remember that. Ever since I've met you, Rose, I knew you'd be it for me. You're so fucking amazing, and I'm so absolutely in love with you, Rose."

Rose was truly frozen now, both by her lack of coat and Scorpius' confession. She wouldn't have ever thought that Scorpius not only reciprocated, but had actually done so for years and years before she'd even recognized her own feelings—

"Shit, you must be freezing." Scorpius realized suddenly, drawing his wand from his coat and casting a warming charm over her form. It immediately abetted the numbness of her fingers, but didn't address the shock—Scorpius' words running around between them, as though she could unpack 'in love with you' into something less intimidating.

Scorpius seemed strangely calmed by his own confession, as though it was a relief to hear the words outside of his head, "Calling you Roza—it was a reminder. Every time I wanted to tell you, every time I wanted to close the gap between us and kiss you, I'd call you 'Roza', reminding myself what would happen."

Rose couldn't blame the breaking of her voice on the cold, "I don't understand why I'm fatal. You haven't even give us a chance, you wouldn't know—"

Scorpius' face tightened in a way that indicated they'd reached the crux of the problem, "Yes, I do."

"Why?"

His hands were shaking again, Rose wanted to grab them, "I've never told anyone this before."

"It's safe with me." Rose meant it, too.

She watched, once more, as he put all the words together in his head, a tense minute passed before he asked, "Have you ever wondered why I've only ever dated pureblood girls?"

Rose opened her mouth to tell the truth, she like most of the school, had guessed he was a purist, but Scorpius winced, as though he knew her answer, "Alright," he said instead, "dumb question. But truth is, Rose, I'm cursed. My family is cursed. Families don't stay this pure for so many hundreds of years without some kind of magical interference. This," he reached up, indicated his hair, scarily light against a snowy backdrop, "is the mark."

"Cursed with dating pureblood girls?" To say Rose was confused was the half of it—she would've accused him of pulling her leg if it weren't for the tremor in his voice. She'd never seen him so sincere.

"Almost. It's a kissing curse. If I kiss someone who's not a pureblood, they'll die. It'll kill them, literally." He had the level of resignation in his voice of a person who'd processed something horrible in the past, and now the idea was so familiar it had lost its punch.

Rose had no idea how to process their conversation—it would've been impossible to foresee this. All she'd been expected, as she'd stormed out of the Three Broomsticks, was a good yell at Scorpius Malfoy, and then to finish her Butterbeer. But this…

"Are you—I mean, are you sure? Maybe it's such a silly rumour, there's all sorts of stories in the old families—"

He shook his head, "Nope. It's archaic blood magic—my father estimates it must've been cast by a grandfather at least eight generations back. He's done extensive research on the topic, and he's drilled it into me from such an early age. You know," Scorpius smiled sadly, now fiddling with the package he'd fetched from his pocket, "my father always insisted the most important thing in life was autonomy, that your decisions in life should be unrestricted and uninfluenced. I guess because he was backed into a corner when he was my age, he's always encouraged me to think for myself. Maybe if he'd raised me to be a blood purist, the curse wouldn't have caused problems for me.
But here I am, backed into a corner because of a decision made hundreds of years before I was even born."

"I don't know what to say—" Rose was still processing, things adding up in her mind as she started seeing the whole picture, "did you say you've loved me since you met me?"

He shrugged, "Maybe that was an exaggeration, but it happened at some point on that train ride."

Rose remembered it now, all the way back to their first day of Hogwarts—how they'd happened upon Scorpius' cabin, where only he sat, huddled up with a book. Rose had all but barged in, she and Albus had been struggling to find a compartment after James had told them to shove off, and she'd introduced herself with enough enthusiasm to put a terrified look on Scorpius' face. They'd chatted the whole train ride, with Albus eventually warming up to the Malfoy boy—despite what Rose's father had said.

She'd almost felt a little betrayed watching them being sorted into the same house, as though she'd accidentally orchestrated her own isolation.

"Didn't you ever wonder why I was so awful to you? That train ride was incredible, we got on so well. I was totally enamoured with you. Then the next day, you came up to talk to us, and I was snappy and nasty—a right brat. It felt horrible, but I'd realized already what could bloom between us—and all I had in my mind was my father reminding me of what could happen, that the fallout from a kiss wasn't worth the action itself."

It was faint now, but Rose pulled it up in her memories, seeing Scorpius' turned up nose and chilling insults.

"If I'd really been trying—if I really wanted to leave you alone—I would've just ignored you. I bet it would've worked too, you probably would've written me off, and forgotten I existed. But I had no self-control, and instead I harassed you, because it meant I could be around you at least, and there'd be no risk of you wanting me. And I thought that your hatred would be better than complete apathy, I couldn't take that." Scorpius sighed, "But that didn't work either."

"You could've just told me—at least then I would've known, so you didn't have to pretend to hate me! Why have you kept this to yourself for so long, you—"

Scorpius didn't look at resigned at that, his jaw tightened in anger, "And what, have it confirmed that I really am a filthy blood purist? That my family performed horrendous magic to ensure our line would stay pure? You think I wanted that label? How would you have treated me then—knowing that the blood on my family's hands was what lay between us and a future together? Having it rubbed in your face for years, incapable of being happy with me? I think the hell not."

Rose felt her mood mirroring his, "So why warm up to me during the detentions, then? Why out yourself as a good person? You know, another couple of months, and I could've been over you. The way you've treated me—I was ready to put any idea of you behind me. But you always have to redeem yourself at the last fucking minute, and I always have to forgive you, don't I?"

Scorpius anger was brief, it only took Rose's words to send him back into his self-pitying resignation, "Because I'm an arsehole, that's why."

"Obviously."

Scorpius paused, "Do you remember that fight we had, on our rounds, after I thought you'd concussed me?"

She nodded, it wasn't easy to forget.

"Well, it was then that I realized you really, truly hated me. Even though that was what I'd wanted for six years, it was far harder to have you actually scream it at me. I just wanted to tip the scales a little—I couldn't help it—so you wouldn't leave school with all horrible memories of me."

She scowled, "You still poisoned my cauldron, though—"

"Well, yeah, I still thought you'd concussed me. I'm not perfect, alright? But being around you in those detentions, it was harder to pretend that I didn't care about you. Too much exposure, I think. Usually I can stand you in little doses, and keep my self-control in check, but you just filled the whole classroom up, just you and me for an entire hour and I couldn't escape and recollect myself." He frowned, "Why on earth did you cut your hair, by the way?"

She shrugged, "I suppose it was an expression of my autonomy."

He didn't look pleased, but he still nodded slowly, "I can understand that."

"So, when—we—on the desk—" however many people she'd told, it was weirdly embarrassing to recount it before him.

"That was a lapse in restraint, and I'm sorry for that."

She wanted to tell him she wasn't sorry, that it was incredible, but that was lame, but instead she asked, "Is that why you freaked out when I went to kiss you?"

He nodded, finally calm enough to stop fiddling with the parcel, and shove it back into his robe pocket, "That broke the trance, in a way. I realized how far I'd taken it, and I knew I needed to dial it way back."

She wanted to be angry, but it was similar to when he'd described to her the lengths he'd gone to poison her cauldron—frustrated fascination, "So you made up with Avery, or at least pretended to—"

"I have no feelings for Lauren." Scorpius said quickly, "She just wants the status of dating a Malfoy—nothing more."

While Rose didn't like Avery, she still recognised it was a shitty move, "You really are—"

"An arsehole, I know." Scorpius finished, "I came to terms with it a long time ago, I'm surprised you haven't as well."

There was a long silence. Either party seemed to be digesting the revelations earthed during their long conversation; Scorpius rubbing at his temples as though he had a headache.

"So, you're cursed." Rose summarised.

"Quite."

"And you're in love with me."

"Very."

She sighed, feeling the wind starting to bite at the edges of Malfoy's warming charm, and she rubbed her arms.

"Well, what now?"

Scorpius sat up properly, his hands settling in his lap, and he looked genuinely earnest as he confessed,

"I have no idea."

A/N: I was so excited for this chapter I knocked out these 4000 words in about two and a half hours of solid writing. I hope you enjoyed! Also, thank you for all the lovely reviews! They keep me going through exam season.