Wow, thanks for the support! I'm happy to know some of you are just as excited as I am about this one. Do review if you like this. I hope to introduce Hugo in the next chapter - look forward to that.

Chapter 2: The Crisis

The gall of Rose Weasley.

Scorpius had stormed back from Hogsmeade with the paparazzi on his heels, a biting fury threatening to leave him in the form of expletives. In no time, the news would be all over the papers, and he was going to be murdered by the Malfoy clan. Most specifically his grandfather.

Not that Scorpius cared what Lucius thought, but the old man could be very trying in times of crisis.

A crisis…

Scorpius wasn't even sure if that was the right word for his predicament. Hell, most boys wouldn't exactly call Rose Weasley a crisis. Of course, she wasn't quite as stunning as Albus' sister Lily, who possessed a conventional prettiness, but even so… There was something rather quaint and wholesome about Rose that men found hard to resist.

Perhaps it was her sincerity—the very same quality that was, ironically, her downfall. The wizarding world may have unfairly labeled Rose a hussy, but everyone in Hogwarts knew otherwise.

Rose Weasley simply wasn't interested enough in boys to warrant a scandal.

Somehow, Scorpius had always been aware of her existence, constant on the periphery of his own; her relationship with Albus formed a separate thread that didn't include him. Her found her odd, to say the least. Absolutely absorbed in the academics of magical beasts, speaking the language of fairies and looking just like one when she felt like it.

He could still recall the first time he noticed her, not as a girl but as a woman, back in fifth year. There was a Yule Ball, and Rose had turned up in a wispy silver dress that looked to be spun from moonlight, her long, careless red hair spooled between her neck and headphones as she tossed her shoes aside on the dance floor. She had looked like an exquisite thumbelina, perhaps resembling one of those peculiar imps she loved to study.

Of course the boys had gone mad for her. Hogwarts never quite recovered from that night.

And neither did Scorpius, because of the way Georgia Plumes ruined him after the Yule Ball.

He had made a concerted effort not to think about it, the humiliation of being rejected so thoroughly by someone you had all but worshipped. Scorpius was left unhinged by the breakup, and the papers had gotten wind of it. Young Malfoy threatens fellow student with Unforgiveable Curse, was the working headline across the media.

Draco had been furious. Scorpius' father had worked hard to keep the family's name clear of scandal, but in one fell swoop, he had undone everything.

The most unforgiveable thing was losing control like that over a girl.

It was utterly unbecoming, especially for a Malfoy.

Never again.

And yet Rose Weasley had spoken so candidly about the topic, in a manner that not even Tarquin or Albus could. His friends, bless them, had tiptoed around the subject with Scorpius, but not Rose. She went straight in for the kill. It was almost a relief to hear her speak of that night with refreshing detachment, as though the heartbreak was merely a random incident that had happened to somebody else.

And then there was the matter of that kiss.

Scorpius uttered an inward groan. Perhaps it was the fact that he hadn't been close to a girl since Georgia, but Rose's effect on him had been embarrassing, to say the least. Now, a whole hour later, he could still feel the sensual warmth of her rosebud lips, damp and sweet on his mouth, her slight frame pressed gently into his.

The gesture was innocent enough. And yet here he was, replaying the sensation of her in his mind, his entire body humming with pleasure and urgency to taste just a little more of her...

What the hell. Maybe he'd really gone too long without a girl, and his hormones were finally staging a full-fledged protest.

The door of the dormitory flew open, and Scorpius looked up to see Albus Potter's blazing green eyes.

In an instant, Scorpius found himself hoisted to his feet by the collar. Anyone else would be shaking in their pants—an angry Potter was not to be trifled with—but Scorpius only rolled his eyes.

"It's true, then? You and Rosie, Malfoy? This had better be some elaborate joke—"

"Albus—"

"It's bloody Rose we're talking about, she's gotten herself into enough trouble as it is, Uncle Ron is going to kill her, then you, holy hells, maybe even me just for letting it happen, I'm going to be collateral damage—"

"It is an elaborate joke."

Albus paused abruptly. "What?"

Tarquin Zabini had appeared warily behind Albus, his dark hair windswept from what looked like running. No doubt he had chased an infuriated Albus down the hallways at the news. Rumours spread faster than fire in these parts.

"It's an elaborate joke," Scorpius said again, before recounting, word-for-word, Rose's strange proposition. As the story unfolded, Albus stared at him, a rather disturbing light entering his eyes. He broke into a gobsmacked grin, grabbing Scorpius by the collar again.

"It's perfect," he breathed. "It really is—"

"You're supposed to be rejecting the idea, and heading off to Gryffindor Tower to knock some sense into your cousin's head."

"No, I'm serious." There was a wonderment in Albus' expression. "Rose really is her mother's child."

"Sorry," Tarquin interjected, as polite as ever. "But why is this a brilliant idea? It looks like a greater scandal than the one with Hedge. Imagine, all the drama about a forbidden love between rivalling families…"

"Well, for one thing, Scorpius has no interest in her. Second, he has a reputation as a boyfriend from hell—"

"Thanks for that," Scorpius said flatly.

"—which means Rose will no longer be approached. And third, he's celibate! That makes Rose absolutely safe with Scorpius." Albus nodded affirmatively, smacking Scorpius' back with gusto. "Go forth, good sir."

Tarquin looked like he was trying not to laugh. "Celibate or not, it's not like Scorpius' goods are no longer working." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Unless they're not?"

"Oh, bugger off," Scorpius grumbled, falling back onto his four poster bed. "Do neither of you care how I feel about this?"

"Not really," Albus said airily, his former ire completely gone. He had the temperament of a headless chicken, Scorpius thought moodily. "There's no way you'd ever carry a torch for Rosie. Not your type in the least."

Scorpius eyed his friend with a raised eyebrow. "And what the hell is my type, exactly?"

"Well, Georgia Plumes was gorgeous," Tarquin mused, as Albus glanced sharply at him. "No slight to Rose, of course… she has her own charms. But she lives on a rainbow, just so you know. My conversations with her are certainly unique." His lips quirked slightly. "Every time I speak to her I increase my knowledge of Hippogriffs."

"If you like her so much," Scorpius said, feeling a surge of irritation, "I'll gladly pass the buck."

"He's betrothed, you idiot," Albus chortled. It was a fact that most of them readily forgot—that Tarquin had, from his childhood, been betrothed to Emery Nott, a fellow Slytherin. Even so, Tarquin was an incurable libertine, and continued to chase skirts throughout his school years. Scorpius had no idea what Emery thought about it; she didn't seem to care one way or another. Their relationship, if anything, felt more like that of siblings.

"I must say, though," Albus continued, the mirth fading slightly from his eyes, "if this is a scheme for Rose to be left alone, it's a fine one." He gave Scorpius a long, hard look. "And it may be good for you, too. You need to remember how to be normal around a girl again. Even if it's just Rose." He smiled. "Heck, you may even enjoy learning a thing or two about magical creatures."

Fair-haired Poppy Langdon could not contain her smile at the headline of the Daily Prophet's social section. The Head Girl had joined her friends Rose and Lily Potter for breakfast after the morning's Head Duties, and was amused to find Great Hall doused in a strangely reverent hush.

Students had their stares in two directions: the Slytherin table, and the Gryffindor table. Lily's face was positively alight with glee.

"Another one down: Malfoy joins string of Weasley conquests," she read from the Daily Prophet, as Poppy filled her teacup. "Goodness, Rose, of all people—"

"Malfoy is perfectly suitable," Rose said absently, scribbling away at her parchment.

Lily snorted ungracefully into her croissant. "Oh, I'm sure he's boyfriend material. He's got the criminal records to prove it."

Poppy found it curious that Rose had picked Scorpius Malfoy for her plan. The boy was broody at best, and unhinged at his worst. It was, however, not at all strange that the girl had gone ahead with the scheme without consulting her family or friends. That was how Rose Weasley operated—she lived on her own terms, and in kind, wholly accepted the same of others. And Poppy could hardly judge Rose's desperation. The less interested she was in boys, the more intense their declarations to her.

It had been funny in their fourth year. Three years later, not so much.

"Was it Hedge who did you in?" she wanted to know, slipping another sugar cube in her tea. "You couldn't have considered a safer option? One of the Scamanders, perhaps?"

Rose didn't deign to look up from her writing. "No one would care if Lysander was my boyfriend, he's much too laid back. And Lorcan…" She glanced furtively at Lily. "Well, Lorcan's occupied."

"By what?" Lily asked. Despite her burgundy locks, it was her wide green eyes that gave her a striking resemblance to Albus... though, of course, Poppy found Lily to be far more endearing than her talkative brother. She was one of those effortlessly pretty girls, and dated far more boys than any of her cousins. And yet the papers were stubborn for Lily to assume the label of ingenue for the Weasley-Potter clan.

Then again, Lily had mastered the art of discretion. Rose had never bothered.

"If you don't know by now," Rose was saying with a pained sigh, "then you shouldn't even be asking."

"Oh, Rosie, don't leave me out of the gossip…"

"Leave me alone, I'm writing!"

"Well," Poppy said, knowing it was quite impossible to have a civilised conversation with Rose when she was investigating a Grindylow or expounding on the finer qualities of a Troll, "the good news is not a single boy has approached you this morning. So maybe your plan's working?"

"Good riddance," came Rose's muffled voice.

"Are you writing about Grindylows again?" Lily whined, exasperated. Then, abruptly, she cleared her throat and straightened her back. "Uhhh… don't look now, but Hedge is coming this way."

Rose looked up blankly at Lily. "Who?"

"Winston. Up. Your. Skirt. Hedge."

"Bloody hell," Rose hissed, gathering her inks and books and cramming them into her bookbag. "What could he possibly want?"

"Closure, perhaps," Poppy murmured, eyeing the muscular form of Winston Hedge as he neared their seats. "In five, Rose."

"No—"

"Four…"

Poppy's countdown had Rose stumbling out of her seat and scurrying towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Unfortunately for her, Hedge's strides were far longer than hers, and he caught her just as she made her exit.

"Rosie," he said, a tinge of desperation in his voice, "Please. We need to talk."

"Do we?" Rose said, the heat blooming in her cheeks. "We discussed the Manticores pretty thoroughly, I thought—"

"My sweet, the news this morning—I must admit it caught me completely by surprise. Did he ambush you?"

Rose stared at Hedge, dumbfounded.

"Scorpius Malfoy," Hedge blubbered, holding up the Daily Prophet and looking positively heartbroken. "That's what must have happened. Surely you know what he's like? He's a dangerous man, even for you."

"Good," said Rose easily. "I like them dangerous. You know what else is dangerous?"

Hedge looked at her, perplexed.

Rose lowered her voice confidentially. "Grindylows."

"Grindylows, Rosie?"

"God, yes. But you don't see me avoiding them, do you?"

"I'm serious, Rosie. Malfoy isn't safe for you. He may even be violent—"

"He hasn't killed anyone, last I heard," Rose said brightly. "Well, this was a most charming conversation, Winston, but I really must—"

But Hedge had grabbed her arms and pushed her back against the wall.

"Listen to me," he said in a low voice. "I don't know what this thing is between you and Malfoy, but I must seize this opportunity to express my feelings."

"I'd prefer if nothing at all is seized, actually," Rose said, wincing as Hedge leaned in close, his breath hot against her cheek.

"Rose, please. You're not like any other girl I've ever met. I've loved you since we partnered in Hagrid's class last year… you're smart, you're adorable, you're utterly irreverent—"

"I assure you," Rose cut in, a touch of urgency in her voice, "I'm really like any other girl you've ever met. Look here, I even wear lip gloss—"

"That's where you're wrong." Hedge's nostrils flared with indignance. "No other girl makes me see stars… you're the most unique thing in this universe."

"I—really—am—not." Rose had dislodged herself from Hedge's hold, shifting quickly away from him and righting her bookbag on her shoulder. "Did you know Blaine Warrington is the master of Gobstones?"

Confusion filled Hedge's expression.

"Well, she beats me in every Gobstones challenge, and howls like a bloody Fwooper when she does. And if you've never talked to Denise Holding, then you're missing out on the most sickening puns on this side of the hemisphere. I'm not more unique than either of them… Oh, Winston, you must look a little harder at the girls around you."

Hedge gazed at her, misty-eyed. It was awful, how someone so good-looking could be reduced to this.

Rose felt sorry to be the one to do this to him.

An awkward moment passed, and then—

"Rose," came a low, silky voice, "why are you with someone else when you should be with me?"

Hedge and Rose turned sharply to see Scorpius leaning casually by the door of the Great Hall, a perverse amusement in his eyes.

"Malfoy," Hedge said, but there was a distinct unease in his tone. Despite his former bravado, a single look from Malfoy had him taking a step back from Rose.

"Hedge," Scorpius said coolly. "You heard the girl. She prefers Grindylows."

Grindylows… How much of their conversation had Scorpius heard? God, how mortifying.

But Hedge had only balled his fists, as though he was stopping himself from hitting something—most likely Scorpius. "If he ever lets you down," he said through gritted teeth, addressing Rose, "you know where to find me."

Rose watched in half-amazement as Hedge turned from them and headed down the hallways, his head lowered. She glanced back at Scorpius, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow, an elegant smile half-hidden behind his palm.

He was laughing.

"It's not funny," Rose said, feeling somewhat stung for Hedge's sake.

Scorpius shrugged, as though he didn't care either way. "You wanted to be rid of him. And I did it for you."

"How did you know we were here?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone in the Great Hall could hear you." There was an arrogant glint in his eye. "Would it have reflected well on me if I had just continued eating toast? What kind of boyfriend would that make me?" He snorted derisively. "…And what a pathetic confession that was."

Rose blinked slowly, as though still trying to grapple with his words. Boyfriend… That's right, she had forced Scorpius into this deal, and the only reason he had appeared was to maintain the illusion of their get-together. No doubt Malfoy would not have people thinking he wasn't able to manage a situation involving his girlfriend. Despite herself, Rose knew Hedge never would have left her alone if any other man had approached them. She looked up at Scorpius' face, his breathtaking handsomeness carved not by any sort of wholesomeness or good will, but rather by an awful melancholy and spite. She recalled with a start that she had just kissed him two days before like it was nothing… Yet, she found his indifference towards Hedge's predicament appalling somehow.

How unkind he was. And how unattractive it made him.

Rose didn't know why she expected more of Scorpius Malfoy after all the things that were said about him, but she did.

"Please don't laugh at him," she said at last. "I didn't laugh when it happened to you."

And Rose turned on her heel and hurried off, her bookbag swinging at her side. Scorpius watched her go, his smile fading from his face.