Guys, thank you SO MUCH for the reviews. I've been so amazed by every one of them. Sorry for the long wait - there's a lot more to come with this story and I'm really trying to write more often. Do fav/follow/review if you enjoy this. It means a lot :) Thanks again for the encouraging words!

Chapter 6: The Grapevine

"It's just you," Rose blurted, feeling both disappointed and relieved.

Scorpius merely raised a lazy eyebrow at her words. Obviously he wasn't often a recipient of either expression.

"I take it you aren't glad to see me." He seemed rather unamused to be at the end of her wand.

Rose blinked and mumbled an oh.

Belatedly, she lowered her arm.

Scorpius stared back at her as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his Quidditch uniform. There was a windswept quality about him, in the high colour of his cheeks and the effortless tousle of his silver gold hair. There was a casual agility in the way he moved—an aristocrat to the bone. For the briefest of moments, Rose allowed the heat to creep into her face—the memory of him upclose flashed in her mind. Unwittingly, her gaze was drawn to his lips.

Oh, hell.

Rose forced herself to wonder about the fact that he still had his leather arm and knee guards on. How very odd. If she didn't know better, she would have thought him to have quit practice in some sort of haste.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing out here alone? Hoping to bump into a Hippogriff, perhaps?"

He looked… annoyed. Which he didn't have any right to, really. Rose cocked her head, suddenly reminded of the Manticores she spoke to Hedge about—the too-intelligent creature that wore the arrogance of a lion, yet was every bit as cunning as a snake. Was it ire that was flashing past his expression? Surely he didn't think he was entitled to any sort of explanation.

"You know me so well," Rose said cautiously, keeping her voice bright as she inched back away from him. "Are you skiving?"

His voice was sharp. "Skiving?"

"Quidditch, of course. Albus never ends practice before dinner."

"He would if he'd been the one to spot you on the edge of the Forbbiden Forest while doing the rounds on the pitch."

Oh. So she had been right, after all. Scorpius was in a haste. Even if it was to give her some sort of lecture.

That explained why he forgot to remove his arm and knee guards.

"Well," Rose said at last. "What a good thing it is that he hasn't seen me, then."

Scorpius narrowed his eyes, as though he couldn't quite believe she was treating the matter so lightly. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? It's getting dark, and the forest is forbidden—"

"I've done this for six years," Rose reminded him, stepping back once more. Her heel caught a sprawling root hidden away by dead leaves, causing her to stumble. Her back met the dense bark of a tree as she steadied herself. Bugger. "And mind you, I haven't yet died."

"You only die once." He was too close now. As close as he was that night at the Owlery. The memory alone was enough to send a warmth thrumming through her cheeks. He smelled of salt and warm earth… she could detect the dreamy notes of the expensive cologne he liked to wear. It was a strangely compelling combination. Or perhaps she was getting used to sharing her personal space with him. Either way, Rose found herself leaning forward ever so slightly, as though taking in the scent of him. She half-expected Scorpius to mock her for it, but he said nothing, merely inclining his head towards hers. Well, then, Rose thought absently, the tip of her nose finding the fuzzy surface of his jumper.

"What are you doing now?" she heard him mutter. Despite the irritation in his tone, his lips felt a mere breath away from her hair.

For a lingering moment they stood like this, in this somewhat half-embrace. Then he lifted his hand, the backs of his fingers coming up to touch her cheek. Rose made a small noise and gave him a little shake of her head.

Scorpius froze. Rose's fingers curled gently over his arm guard.

"Don't move," she whispered. "You'll scare away the Bowtruckle."

"The what?"

"The Bowtruckle. There's one staring at us and giggling. Right now. Two o'clock."

The hardness in his eyes gave way to disbelief. He craned his neck.

"Not too fast, you'll startle—"

"Quiet."

Rose clamped her mouth shut. Sure enough, a slender, leaf-like creature no bigger than her palm peeked out at them from behind a branch, its dim eyes shiny and curious. When Scorpius turned back to Rose, she was beaming.

"Brilliant," she said.

A twig snapped. The Bowtruckle squeaked in alarm, and disappeared in a flash. Rose's eyes widened as Scorpius gripped her arms and pushed her against the rough bark.

"Who's there?" he snapped.

"It could be a creature," Rose said, trying to be helpful.

"Shut up." Scorpius tightened his hold on her, his grip becoming almost vice-like. "You're probably hoping for something dangerous, like a Manticore, or—"

"Wrong climate for a Manticore," Rose corrected, ducking her head at Scorpius' steel glare. "But of course, if we chance upon one, we could quite possibly make conversation with it."

Scorpius lifted an exasperated gaze to the clouds, as though in prayer. "Why couldn't you be more… more…"

"Normal?" Rose was smiling at him when he returned his gaze to her. "I wonder sometimes."

Another crunch of the leaves. This time, Rose was sure there was something—a creature, a person—

To Rose's astonishment, Scorpius' face had gone pale. It occurred to her that, despite his physical strength and the devil-may-care bravado, Scorpius Malfoy was still very much the pampered, well-to-do aristocrat. He was not made to deal with the more reckless aspects of nature, and that likely included creatures. That, and Rose was well-informed of Draco Malfoy's wretched encounter with Buckbeak countless years ago, so she couldn't imagine that Scorpius was brought up close to animals of any sort, magicless or not.

Briefly, she found herself impressed that he would have put aside his fears, however big or small they were, to make sure she was safe. The curl of his slender fingers against her arm now felt more desperate than protective.

Rose's heart softened at this. Quite suddenly, she felt compelled to bring him to safety. Bratty as he was.

She went on her tip-toes then, tugging a wide-eyed Scorpius down by the neck of his Quidditch jumper and almost knocking foreheads.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Shh," she mumbled, raising her wand under his arm. "Specialis Revelio."

There was a silence. Dead leaves sighed as a gentle breeze picked up, but otherwise—nothing. Rose smiled, pleased. "See?" Her voice was muffled into his shoulder. "No Hippogriffs."

Scorpius relaxed ever so slightly against her. Rose poked him gently, and he went still. Then, she pointed her wand out to the clearing once more, her voice ringing clear.

"Homenum Revelis."

This time, there was a gasp and a shriek. Scorpius sprung away from Rose, his movements so quick that for a moment everything looked a blur—then he had his wand out, his back towards Rose and blocking her from the strangers stumbling to their feet before them. Rose gasped, recognising the colours of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff—

"Who are you," Scorpius barked, an icy fury in his darkened eyes, "and what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The two girls were trembling behind their scarves, clutching their skirts and staring at Scorpius and Rose with both fear and a sort of—reverence?

Rose stumbled forward, a hand on Scorpius' wrist. "They're harmless," she insisted, but Scorpius shrugged her off, his eyes never leaving the girls.

"Names," he snarled. "Speak!"

"Gw-Gwendolyn Wick," said one, her knees visibly quaking.

"Nora Mullen," said the other, looking frightened of Scorpius' wrath. "Oh, please, we were just—"

"—we're such huge fans," finished Wick tearfully. "We didn't mean to follow you—"

"But you two are so sweet together!" Mullen wailed.

"We wanted to just see what you're both like together, everyone's so curious—"

They were talking over each other now, voices pitchy and breathless. Rose couldn't make head or tail of what they were saying, except—

"The whole school's talking about you—"

"—Of all the boys who loved you, Rose, you picked him!"

"What a fairytale!"

"Are you two in love? Please, don't break up!"

"She's better for you than Plumes—"

The mention of Georgia Plumes was probably the last straw. With a low growl, Scorpius turned on his heel and stalked off. Rose blinked, overwhelmed by the barrage of information coming from Wick and Mullen, before she came to her senses. She pocketed her wand and hurried after Scorpius.

But Wick and Mullen were far from finished. It was as though the dam had broken, and they were coming clean with all the fantasies and hopes they had kept carefully hidden, brandishing their apparent adoration for the absolutely perfect relationship Rose and Scorpius shared, their little voices squeaking through the wintry air to the same ruinous effect of a deflating rubber duck.

"Scorpius," Rose said, stumbling after him down the grassy path.

"Take his hand!" cried Wick.

"Can anything be more romantic?" Mullen sighed.

Rose glanced over her shoulder incredulously. "You two have a terrible idea of romance."

"You've redeemed him, Rose," Wick said with earnest aplomb, quickening her steps to match Rose's pace. "Why, before this, none of us could ever picture Malfoy as any sort of—"

"Boyfriend material," filled in Mullen, nodding enthusiastically. "You know, what with that awful dating history—"

"But you've gone and made him accessible again. If someone like you can change him, then there's hope for every sort of rogue wizard, surely? What next? Tarquin Zabini honouring his engagement?"

Rose felt her jaw drop. She had no idea Zabini was even engaged. But before she could comment on that, Scorpius had spun abruptly to face them, his expression as piercing as silver knives.

The cat-like grace he usually carried himself with had utterly evaporated. His shoulders were drawn as taut as an archer's bow, as though he was about to spring an attack on the still-gushing girls. He looked positively deadly. If this was how Scorpius looked like in a rage, Rose thought, it was no wonder Wallace Bolt regretted his wickedness.

"You have ten seconds," he hissed, "to get out of my sight."

Wick and Mullen stopped short, quivering at the force of his glare. Wick stuffed a hand into her satchel, pulling out a postcard.

"Ten." Scorpius had clenched his jaw.

"We're part of the Harlequin Book Club," Wick whispered to Rose, pressing the card into her palm before Rose could react. "You could join us for our weekly meetings—"

"Nine."

"Where writers and artists come together to discuss and dissect the mysteries of modern romance," Mullen said seriously. "Please, Rose, join us—"

"Three."

"You said in ten," Wick protested.

"Well, I changed my mind. Unlucky for you, that's the only thing about me that's changed." Scorpius reached for his wand, and Wick and Mullen visibly flinched, terror flashing past their faces. "Two."

And then the girls were pushing past Rose and Scorpius, running helter-skelter down the grassy incline towards the castle.

The silence that fell between them felt almost like a sigh of relief. Rose stared down at the card in her hand. The Harlequin Book Club sang out at her in languid brush strokes, magicked songbirds and petals flitting through the letters. Thursdays at 8pm, Astronomy Tower.

Scorpius snatched the card of out her hands, crumpling it in his palm.

"Hey!" Rose cried, but Scorpius had already tossed it onto the grass.

"Dissecting modern romance," he sneered. "What a flattering way to describe a gossip session."

"Gossip isn't the only thing girls do when they get together," Rose said defensively.

"Enlighten me, then."

"We play Gobstones. Discuss politics. Talk about magical developments and discoveries in astronomy."

"So—horoscopes, then." There was a cheerful sarcasm in his voice now. "Would you like to do a reading on mine?"

"I'm not sure that's necessary, seeing as it'll come out about how awful and mean you are!" Rose snapped, feeling her composure fray slightly. "And that's astrology, not astronomy. Do you have such a low opinion of girls that you would trample over anything that's remotely feminine?"

Scorpius stared down at her, the agitation fading ever so slightly from his pale grey eyes. Then he huffed, turning away from her. "I'm not here to argue with you."

"You're just… so… Merlin, Scorpius. They meant no harm. You didn't have to behave like an utter prat."

"Me, a prat? They were the ones spying on us, in case you haven't quite noticed!"

"They meant no harm—"

"They never do." The bitter edge in his voice put a stopper to Rose's rising indignation. Scorpius had turned away from her, his gaze trained on some distant point beyond the grounds. As though he was fighting back some sort of memory. Rose paused, remembering at once the vindictive rumours that plagued Scorpius' career in Hogwarts. Not that his poor choices had helped matters, Rose reminded herself. But as she recalled the impossibly toxic media circus that had surrounded him back then, she found it in herself to empathise.

Though, of course, none of this excused his terrible behavior towards Wick and Mullen.

"I know you're a Scorpio," she said at last. Scorpius didn't reply; his expression still caught up in that faraway place. Rose cleared her throat. "Lily studies that stuff. She says it means you know how to hold a grudge, which isn't too inaccurate if you ask me."

Scorpius snorted, but that familiar arrogance had returned to his eyes. Oddly enough, the sight felt almost comforting to Rose. It was a relief to see him return to himself.

"And you're born in March," he said.

"How did you know?"

"Albus. He drives us all mad trying to come up with something for your birthday every year." Scorpius lifted his gaze to meet hers. "What does that make you?"

"Pisces. The one with the fish symbol."

"I guess that's supposed to mean something."

Rose couldn't help a cheeky grin. "That I'm wonderful and kind, of course."

Scorpius said nothing for a moment. Rose was beginning to wonder if she had lost him again when he said, "Does it mean you'll go to Hogsmeade with me?"

Well. That was completely unexpected. Scorpius was studying her from the corner of his eye. There was something inexplicable about this unsmiling, expressionless man… the callous swagger Rose had gotten accustomed to had somehow peeled away, leaving only Scorpius behind. Yet, he stared at her with the same intensity, questioning rather than challenging.

"Well," Rose said carefully. "I did say, no dates, no gifts, no—"

"You said," Scorpius interrupted flatly. "I, on the other hand, never said I was low-maintenance."

Rose gawked at him. Around them, the grounds were darkening, sunset colours melting into the cooler hues of evening time. Scorpius resumed walking, and Rose followed, trying to make sense of him.

"Why would you want to go to Hogsmeade with me?" she blurted. "Isn't it already a hassle to keep up appearances with me throughout the week? You should enjoy your free weekend, spend it with your mates—"

"Trust me, there's nothing I'd rather be doing," Scorpius said drily. "But my father has finally written, only to inform me that a high-profile coupling such as ours won't be able to escape the interest of the paparazzi. So he very pointedly suggested that it would be wise of me to… how shall I put it… behave."

"Well, then," Rose said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice, "why can't we behave separately?"

"And endure the trouble in paradise storyline in the week after?" Scorpius asked, with barely concealed disdain. "It'll be charming, I'm sure."

Rose followed after him, feeling somewhat dazed. Yet, no matter how she attacked the subject… Draco Malfoy had a point. Scorpius returning to the dating scene was as much a news story as it was of Rose nabbing the affections of a supposed ex-nemesis of the Weasley family. Combined, however, the pair of them were the makings of a sensational cover story. Rose was surprised that she hadn't yet been contacted by a magazine for an exclusive.

"Only if we get an ice-cream cone at Madam Puddifoot's," she blurted. Scorpius slowed his pace, glancing over his shoulder to give her a look of disbelief.

"We don't have to sit in there with the other couples," Rose continued, folding her arms defensively and trying to ignore the heat prickling at the back of her neck. "But she serves a mean sugared violet ice-cream cone and I'm getting it. Whether you like it or not."

"Sounds revolting," said Scorpius, but Rose was sure it was a smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

"It tastes absolutely divine," Rose corrected, pushing past him towards the castle. "You'll see."

She heard him laugh behind her, a low sound that placed a familiar shiver up her spine.

"Can't wait," he said.

"First Hogsmeade date this weekend, then?"

Rose tried not to groan into her coffee. Poppy couldn't hide her grin as she settled into the sofa beside her friend. Since Wick and Mullen's supposed 'sneak peek' of Rose and Scorpius' desperately romantic rendezvous in the Forbidden Forest (their words), the Hogwarts grapevine had gone into a tailspin.

Then, someone—possibly Tarquin to one of his many girlfriends—had let slip that Scorpius and Rose were soon going on their first date, and the news had gone through the school like a wild fire.

"It's just a date," Rose protested. "Couples go on dates! Why is this news?"

"Would you like to hear my version of events?" Poppy offered casually. "He grabbed her by arm, brought her to his chest like a elfin knight, caressing her back like a star-crossed lover, before whispering with a tremble in his voice—"

"Why are you listening to gossip? I am the source, Poppy. And none of that happened!"

"Not even the caressing?"

"No caressing!" Rose cried, her head dropping into her hands. "Most people have the privilege of privacy! What have I done in my past life to deserve this?"

"There, there," Poppy said in a soothing tone. "It can't be all bad." Even so, she looked like she was trying not to smile. "I must say, for a girl who's gotten herself a boyfriend, you still look very much like you've been ambushed. What's really bothering you?"

Rose shrugged, looking down at the book on her lap. "Well… Fabian wrote."

"So I've heard."

"What?"

"Nothing," Poppy said smoothly. "What did he say?"

"He said the Magizoology programme would require NEWTs in more than just Care of Magical Creatures. An E in Potions, Herbology, and Charms..." Rose frowned, worrying her lower lip. "I'm going to end up filing papers in some stuffy office just because of my awful Herbology score—"

"You know I'll help you. And isn't Albus first in Charms?"

"Don't remind me. He's been insufferable about it."

"Insufferable or not, you should ask him for help. And you can begin redeeming your Herbology grade by not dozing off in Professor Longbottom's class. I'm sure he saw you. He was just too polite to say anything."

"Oh, bugger," Rose muttered, ducking her head in embarrassment. "Should I apologise?"

"He'll probably like it better if you managed at least an E on that Bleeding Tooth plant essay."

Rose made a face, glancing longingly out the window. It was a clear day with a bit of rare sun, but she and Poppy had made a pact at the beginning of term to spend their afternoons on their studies. While Hermione was naturally book smart, Rose's good grades were merely the result of applying herself.

Which definitely meant she had to pull up her socks.

Rose sighed inwardly. She would much rather be visiting the Hippogriffs.

"At least we both know you'll be brilliant," she said, feeling rather deflated. "I could talk to mum, you know. About getting you an internship at the policy department. You'd be perfect for that."

Surprise flickered past Poppy's pale eyes. "I'm grateful," she said. "But I'm not sure it's necessary."

"You're not looking for a job at the Ministry?"

"I'm not against the idea, but it's unlikely. I'd sooner work in an apothecary."

That surprised Rose. Poppy's exemplary school career seemed engineered towards a role in the Ministry. But before she could bring this up, Poppy had set down the newspaper and changed the subject.

"By the way... I was waiting for the right time to tell you. You'll never guess what I stumbled upon on patrol last night."

Rose raised an eyebrow. Her friend was not prone to gossip, which only meant it involved Rose's family.

"Albus," she said with certainty. It had been awhile since Albus gotten up to any mischief that involved a prank or a girl.

But Poppy shook her head.

"It was Hugo," she said, with a lowered tone.

"Hugo?" There was a sinking sensation in Rose's stomach.

"With Kirkpatrick Vance." Poppy tilted her head at Rose's blank expression. "Well, bugger me. You knew, didn't you?"

"I knew about Vance," Rose admitted slowly. "But it worries me that you do, too. No offense," she said quickly. "But you know as well as I do that he's never let himself get caught with a boy. If word gets out, the press will start circling him like vultures."

"You're the only one I've told." Poppy hesitated for a moment. "You probably should talk to Zabini, though."

"Zabini?"

"He was there, too."

"What? With Hugo and Vance?"

"Jesus, no." The mugglespeak drew a chuckle out of Rose. "He happened to be on his way back to the common room, and we both chanced upon Hugo and Vance—"

"What was he doing out so late?"

"God knows he was probably doing the same thing with some other girl," Poppy said wryly. "He was a gentleman about the whole thing, of course. Slipped away before Hugo even noticed he was with me." She hummed thoughtfully under her breath. "Can he be trusted?"

It disturbed Rose that she couldn't come up with a straight answer. Despite Albus' closeness to Zabini, she probably knew him just as well as she knew Scorpius, really. Which was to say, not at all.

The sudden thought of Scorpius did an unexpectedly funny little thing to her insides.

Rose blinked away the feeling, returning her attention to the matter at hand.

Someone like Zabini was a wildcard when it came to information like this. Especially since pureblooded families were considered to be staunchly traditional in every possible sense of the word.

To Poppy, she merely said, "I have no idea."

"You should ask Scorpius about it."

"Maybe," Rose agreed, a little too quickly.

Poppy studied Rose carefully, the slightest hint of amusement reaching her eyes. "Rosie. Did something happen between the two of you?"

Rose could barely conceal her discomfort at this turn of the conversation. She was not accustomed to talking about personal matters, but it was clear that Poppy was not about to let this go.

"Uh… not really," she mumbled. "He was nice—walked me to the owlery the other night. I offered to let him kiss me."

"Did he?"

"He said only if I wanted him to."

"Sounds simple enough."

"It isn't. You know how much I detest these sort of things."

"You kissed him in front of the paps, Rosie."

"Yes, but it didn't last for a split second. Exactly the way all kisses should be, don't you think?"

Poppy said nothing at this outburst, instead choosing to study Rose with polite interest. Rose cleared her throat, glancing briefly over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. "How long did they… I mean, Hugo and Vance… did they go at it for long?"

"They looked bothered enough." Poppy grinned at the uncontained question in Rose's eyes. "What are you really asking?"

It was rather charming to see Rose at such a loss for words. She was usually so sure of herself. Whatever Scorpius was doing to her, Poppy thought, it seemed to be working.

"Scorpius didn't kiss me," Rose said at last.

Poppy said nothing, only stared expectantly at her.

"I kept waiting for it to happen, you know—Wilkins or Hedge never took that long to kiss me. But then he didn't." Rose squirmed at the memory, feeling rather mortified at the fire beneath her cheeks. "It felt like he was teasing me."

"He was."

Rose tilted her head slightly. "Why?"

"Because he's trying to make you want him as much as he wants you."

"It's just a kiss. I said I'd let him—"

"A kiss doesn't mean anything if it's just taken, Rose. It has to be given, too." Poppy raised a sly eyebrow. "Were you thinking about Hippogriffs?"

"Can't say I didn't try." Rose looked up at Poppy with a slow, sheepish smile. "Did… your boyfriends do this with you?"

"I'm not sure you want to hear it. Since one of those boyfriends was James."

"Gross. You're right." Rose surveyed her friend carefully. "You know, don't you? About him and Hertha Rowle?"

Poppy shrugged, not meeting Rose's eyes. "We never would have worked out, anyway. Albus opposed from the start."

Once again, Rose felt a twinge of irritation at her cousin's stubborn dislike for Poppy. Albus was wrong—her friend did not want for connections for social reasons. Rose had always sensed a depth of loneliness in Poppy, a void that James had filled for her once upon a time.

While Poppy had let on that she came from a wealthy muggle household in London, she had never shared any intimate details of her family. Rose suspected there was much that she kept carefully hidden under her good manners. Albus perceived her reticence as arrogance, but Rose knew better. Poppy once revealed that she didn't have the closest of relationships with her family, all of whom were muggles. They were conservative folks, and the idea of a witch in the family did not settle well with them.

While Poppy had never brought up the painful subject again, Rose couldn't help but think that Poppy was perhaps lonelier than she let on.

"He'll come around one day, Poppy," she said at last. "You intimidate him, that's all. He never quite knows how to act around a proper girl."

"What on earth is a proper girl?"

"A girl with your kind of upbringing."

"And what kind is that?"

"The kind that knows which forks to use at a dining table. Albus doesn't even use a fork, I'll have you know."

Poppy shrugged. "I don't care if he likes me."

"Well, I do," Rose said dolefully, earning a chuckle. "He should like you. You're my best friend, and I'm an excellent judge of character. You were good for James, Poppy. Too good, in my opinion."

Poppy looked at Rose with a fond little smile, but said nothing more of the subject. "Well then," she said, much to Rose's chagrin, "shall we get started on Herbology?"