Hey guys, sorry for the delay on getting this chapter up! We're getting to the part of the story where I'm struggling a little, and work has been intense so i haven't been able to write fic or post on Tumblr. The reviews have been so lovely - thanks so much for egging me on, it's really keeping me going! :) Let me know if you liked this!

Chapter 7: The Date

Where the hell was Rose?

Scorpius folded his arms, eyes narrowed as he surveyed his boisterous surroundings. Across The Three Broomsticks, Hogwarts students were crowded around tables with their Butterbeers and Daisyroot ciders, the chatter reaching impossible decibels in the enclosed space. Scorpius was never quite fond of noisy establishments, but it had been Rose's idea to meet here and Scorpius supposed this was the normal, coupley thing to do. Truthfully, he was so surprised that she'd said yes to a date that he had little objection to her planning it. Whatever those plans were.

Even so. He hated waiting. She was a good twenty minutes late.

Around him, Scorpius could spot a number of familiar faces. Albus was yakking on with Tarquin and Emery Nott at a high table. Even as Tarquin's childhood betrothed, it was rare for Emery to join them on any sort of occasion. She had always been the extraordinarily smart sort, and more often associated with Hogwarts' academic elite, a crowd that included the Head Boy Tristan Shacklebolt.

Scorpius snorted quietly. As loyal as he was to Tarquin, someone as frivolous as his friend was surely excluded from that fray.

Albus had invited Scorpius to join them as he waited for Rose, of course—she's not exactly a stickler for time, was Albus' warning—but Scorpius had declined, instead choosing the discreet corner of the bar. As much as he didn't want to admit it, the idea of a date made his stomach churn.

He hadn't been on a date in over a year. This afternoon, he wasn't in Hogsmeade to socialise.

As a matter of fact, he was here to prove a point.

Bloody hell. Where was she?

As he glanced back at the wall clock, the heavy doors swung open. A chilly gust of air invaded the stuffy space, startling a few people located by the bar. Then Rose tumbled in, red hair dotted with snow and her nose pink from the cold. Scorpius could barely hold back from rolling his eyes when Winston Hedge followed her in, wearing a ridiculously smitten expression. Rose blinked, quickly scanning the bar before spotting Scorpius in the darkened corner. Hedge's face fell as she left his side and made her way through the crowd.

It was almost startling to notice that Rose looked about the same as she usually did. Scorpius was not ashamed to admit that he was used to a certain calibre of girl. Most of the women he knew went out of their way to doll up for a date. But Rose looked… well, she was naturally pretty, certainly, but her ordinariness on this supposedly special occasion felt almost disarming. She donned a slightly worn maroon jumper, her too-big headphones tucked right under her matching Gryffindor scarf, and a little wool skirt with furry pockets. Scorpius leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand, his eyes following her slim, stockinged legs with a mild interest.

Well, he could appreciate a skirt.

"Hi," Rose said, with a breathless little smile. She blinked down at him, the warmth catching up to her cheeks. "Sorry I'm late, I was, uh—"

"Ambushed," Scorpius said smoothly, shifting slightly in the booth to allow space for Rose to join him.

"Well—I don't know if that's what it was." Rose glanced at him, removing her scarf and looking hungrily at his Butterbeer. "May I?"

"Order your own," Scorpius said irritably, but Rose had reached for the mug, relaxing against his side as she gulped down the drink. "And if it's Hedge, it was an ambush."

"He knows I'm with you. He won't try anything."

"Maybe his love for you transcends his fear for my supposed madness." Scorpius plucked the mug from Rose's hands. He didn't know where the pettiness was coming from, but the sight of Hedge with Rose had left him more than a little disgruntled. "Order your own."

"Colette Creevey from Witch Weekly is just right across the bar, I'll have you know. So. Share."

"Isn't he afraid I'll hex him?" Scorpius said, ignoring Rose and glaring at a despondent Hedge, who was hovering by the bar and stealing glances their way. "Why are these prats so obsessed with you?"

"Hell if I know," Rose said distractedly, closing her eyes in bliss as she stole another sip from Scorpius' mug. "Mmmm, what is life without Butterbeer?"

Scorpius turned back to her, his clear grey eyes narrowing in exasperation when he spotted her Butterbeer moustache. "Oh—fucksake, Weasley."

"What?"

"Just—come here." Rose's eyes widened, ever so slightly, as his fingers reached behind her neck to pull her closer. Scorpius reached out, dabbing the Butterbeer from above her mouth with his thumb. Her lips left a faded cherry red stain on his skin.

"Vanilla cola," Rose said.

"What?" Scorpius glanced up at her. Like him, she was looking somewhat reverently at the lipstain on his thumb.

"Vanilla cola," she repeated. "The flavour of my lip gloss today."

Scorpius parted his lips, ready to snark back at her, but the brief amusement in her eyes left an unhealthy patter in his chest. There seemed nothing coy about the way she was studying him, and yet there was no doubt that she was, perhaps, testing him.

"So?" he found himself saying, sounding gruffer than he intended.

"Nothing." Rose broke into an impish grin, pulling away abruptly from his hold. "If you're going to tease me, then surely I'm allowed to do the same."

"What are you going on about?"

Rose merely wiggled her eyebrows at him, her crinkling gaze diverting from him when a burst of racuous laughter broke out across the bar. In that moment, Scorpius found himself cursing the fact that they weren't somewhere more private; the very realisation that he wanted to remain the centre of Rose's attention rankled at him.

And Rose was still stealing his Butterbeer, damn her.

"I never knew Zabini was engaged," she said, leaning her slighter shoulder against his own. Again with that careless attitude.

Scorpius forced himself to look away from Rose. "Since he was in diapers."

"Anyone I know?"

"Since when do you gossip?"

"It's either gossip or sitting here in awkward silence waiting for you to not kiss me." Rose tapped her fingers on the table, her cheek warm against his sleeve. "Creevey hasn't stopped looking at us, you know. I think she might keel over any second."

"I don't give a fuck about Creevey." And that was true. At least, not with Rose being so close. Scorpius could blame all of it on the hormones. Or his long-suffering celibacy. Or his own stubbornness, really. Her hair smelled divine; like a winter breeze with a hint of soap and lemon. Bloody hell, there was nothing like a girl, was there? Scorpius felt the familiar tremor of want under his skin, the devil that put the wicked glint in his eyes and sex on his mind. He shifted, ever so slightly, the tip of his nose touching the red strands of her hair.

Vanilla cola. His eyes fell past her just-bitten lips.

Rose was watching him from under her lashes, an odd warmth invading the sweep of her cheekbones. She seemed completely unaware of her effect on him; in kind, he was sure she had no idea why she was blushing, either. If you're going to tease me, then surely I'm allowed to do the same. If this was some sort of game, then Scorpius refused to be the one to take the bait. Let Rose lose herself in her silly mind games, he thought savagely. He wouldn't give in.

"You don't care, but your father does." Rose's words, while soft, felt all too stark. "Technically, we're both here to save our reputations."

"Or you could have dated someone like Hedge and got on with it."

"It had to be you." Rose gave him a wry little smile. "If I dated Hedge, the other boys wouldn't stop pestering me."

"So why does Hedge still follow you like a—"

"He says he loves me. So it must be that." The way she said it, so unconcerned and matter-of-fact, made Scorpius' words die on his tongue. "Now tell me. Is Zabini engaged to someone I know?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes at her attempt to change the subject, and leaned his head back against the seat. "Emery."

"Nott?" Rose stared at Scorpius in disbelief. "Emery Nott?"

"Think she's too good for him? Too smart? Too pretty? You're not the only one." Scorpius reached out for the mug, downing the last of the Butterbeer. "Tarquin's a piece of work, but that's how Pureblood families operate. They've been betrothed their whole lives, though I doubt Tarquin cares for her that way." He stared at his friends—Emery's inscrutably poised demeanor compared with Tarquin's brusque, merrymaking howls. "They're incompatible as hell, but neither of them have a say in it. At least they're friends—that's more than a lot of us can ask for."

"And you?"

"I got lucky, I suppose." Scorpius smiled for the first time that day, despite the mockery he felt. "I just get the fake relationships."

Rose opened her mouth to reply, then seemed to decide against it. Instead, they sat there for a few minutes in a strange, companionable silence. Funny, Scorpius thought drily, how he couldn't stand a moment's quiet with his real girlfriends. Every silence had to be punctuated by something physical; in his mind, there was no point otherwise. But he found he didn't quite mind lounging here with Rose. Here, he felt the same wonderful ease at the sunset-drenched library a few weeks ago, where Rose had read his palm and declared him…

"—a jealous psycho, isn't he?"

His eyes shot open. Rose had stiffened against him as the voices carried over the bar noise.

"Jamie, such harsh words!"

"It's true. He almost killed Wallace Bolt!"

A few sighs went around the table, followed by mumbles of agreement.

"…he and Weasley are absolutely perfect for each other, if you ask me. People don't believe the papers about her, but where there's smoke there must be fire—"

"Yes, leading on all those blokes… Say, didn't she lead you on, too?"

"Oh, she's a real tease, that's for sure. But I've never met any girl more daft... she's got no people skills, mate. She's bloody obsessed with animals."

"Bugger me, yeah. Waste of a pretty girl, innit?"

"It's bad enough when a wizard's creature-crazy, but a witch—"

A deep, sickening red was clouding his vision—as furious as he felt about the words said against him, it felt doubly insulting to hear how mean they were about Rose. The conversation was coming from the booth behind them—apparently they had no idea that Rose and Scorpius were on the other side. The more they talked, the more a familiar rage seemed to creep in the corners of his chest, sinking its claws into his very breath. Abruptly, Scorpius moved to get on his feet, venom on the tip of his tongue, but just as swiftly Rose had curled her fingers into his shirtfront to keep him still, her face devoid of the expressiveness he had come to know her for.

"Do you like classical music?" she said, an oddly false cheer in her voice.

And before Scorpius could answer, she had pulled her headphones from her neck and slipped them over his ears.

The music was uncomfortably loud at first. Scorpius shot her a glare, about to demand what the fuck this was about, but the gentle pleading in her cornflower eyes gave him pause. He glanced over at the bar, and there Colette Creevey sat, fluttering her owlish eyes as she watched them.

The rage was a bitter pill, but Scorpius swallowed, turning his grey eyes to hers. "Bach," he said instead, even though he couldn't hear himself. "Goldberg Variations."

Rose's eyes widened slightly; he could not hear her through the violins, but he could see her mouth, "You know Bach?" He couldn't help feeling amused at her wonderment. Almost without meaning to, he reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing past her freckled cheeks… his palms coming to rest over her delicate ears.

Rose blinked in surprise. Scorpius found himself leaning in, hands clasping firmly over her ears. Rose's nose nestled against his collar, her face turning heated under his touch.

Now she wouldn't have to listen to any of that tripe, either.

Bach played, and Rose remained still, fingers caught gently on his wrist. Scorpius felt his insides twist—a horrible childhood sentimentality brought on by the sound of the strings, mixed with the intoxicating nearness of Rose. There was a curious intimacy to their closeness, one that made Scorpius regret his cruel disregard for previous girlfriends… the ones who cried that he shut them out, never quite knowing how to appease their need for more, whatever that was.

He was in the middle of some Mozart when Rose finally removed the headphones. "They're gone," she whispered.

"Great." The bar noise felt like a shock to his system, their current physical contact now feeling dream-like and strange.

And not at all unpleasant.

Rose beamed as she gently pulled his hands from her ears, fingers lingering over his before she let go. "What do you say we get some ice-cream?"

If Rose was wrong about everything else, at least she was damn right about those blasted sugar violet ice-cream cones from Madam Puddifoot's. It was the most divine thing Scorpius had ever tasted in his life.

"You can't have everything," she was protesting, as he strode away from her, cone in hand. "One lick, you said!"

"You finished my Butterbeer, you owe me."

"Oh, come on, Scorpius—you know I've been looking forward to it all week!"

Scorpius merely barked with laughter, taking another lick of her cone.

Rose stopped in the middle of the street and turned on her heel. "I'm going to get another—"

"I'll just finish that, too."

Rose frowned at him, and Scorpius took another deliberate lick of the unforgivably violet ice-cream cone. "Don't you want it?" he mocked.

"I can't tell if that's you or the ice-cream talking." Rose looked hungrily at the cone. "Seriously. Shall we get another?"

They ended up outside Madam Puddifoot's the second time, with Rose devouring the treat with a delightful enthusiasm that he found rather charming. As he watched her, he found himself asking, somewhat abruptly, "Did you know them?"

Rose wiped the corner of her mouth with her wrist, looking at him in surprise.

"The wankers from The Three Broomsticks."

"One or two of them." Rose seemed to hesitate then, and Scorpius had the distinct impression that she was struggling to understand what had just happened herself. The matter was black and white to him, of course; Scorpius was friends with people he deemed worthy, and dismissed everyone else. Rose, on the other hand, seemed to possess an unhealthy amount of empathy for even lowlifes… as proven by their argument over the idiotic Harlequin Book Club. As Rose stared blearily into space, Scorpius swiped the ice-cream cone from her hand.

"Oh, hell—Scorpius!"

"Dated one of them, then?" Scorpius continued casually, holding the cone above her reach.

"Give me my cone—"

"Answer me and I will."

"I didn't date him per se." Rose was on her tip-toes now, stubbornly reaching for the cone. When Scorpius gave her a pointed look, she lost her footing and found purchase on his arm. "Just Jamie Wilkins, okay? Can I have my cone back?"

Scorpius relented, and Rose leaned back against the shop window, pouting slightly into her dessert. "Well," he said finally, "I suppose he didn't take the rejection too well."

"I don't want to talk about it, if that's alright." Rose gave her cone a despondent lick. "I always thought him a friend, though."

"Blokes rarely want to be just friends with girls."

"That's rather sexist."

"I'm not saying it doesn't happen. I'm just saying it's rare. Mind you, I grew up with Tarquin. I've seen everything he's done to get laid." Scorpius idly dusted the snow off his shoulders. "You can't blame me for being sceptical."

Around them, Hogsmeade was thrumming with activity. It was a brilliant afternoon; despite the snowfall, everything seemed to be touched by a warm noon glow. Hogwarts students milled past them in groups, leaving footprints in the snow. Occasionally, they stole startled glances at Rose and Scorpius and whispered among themselves. Scorpius supposed he and Rose were beyond caring at this point.

"How did you know Bach, anyway?" Rose's tendency to skip uncomfortable subjects was not lost on Scorpius. If she was going to be stubborn about it, fine. He would tuck the subject of Jamie Wilkins away for the time being… and pounce on it again when the time was right.

"I studied music my whole life," he said shortly. "Started before I could even walk."

Rose seemed to light up at this. "You play?"

"Piano. Violin. Some cello, but only because my grandmother made me." He couldn't help but make a face. "I'm nowhere near as good as my mother, of course. She knows something like seven instruments."

"I never got a chance to learn. My parents aren't the musical sort."

"Well, consider it a blessing. I've had enough of my grandmother kicking up a fuss when I skipped my piano lessons to play a round of Quidditch."

Rose was watching him as though he was one of her silly creatures trapped in a glass jar, so keenly that she hadn't noticed the melted ice-cream trailing into the crevices of her fingers. "…So you don't like music."

"You can be good at something without ever loving it." For a moment all he could recall was Georgia's smiling face, and the doting expression in her eyes every time she looked at him… she was that elusive affection he had sought for for years. Georgia knew perfectly how to play up on the qualities he found most attractive in a girl; she was good at being who he wanted her to be. But she had never loved him, at least not in the way he demanded of her.

How delusional he was.

It was pathetic, he thought bleakly, to be feeling sorry for himself when he was on a date.

Rose seemed to notice the melancholic turn in their conversation. She cleared her throat, leaning back against the dusky glass window of Madam Puddifoot's and hesitating for a moment. Then—"He was my first kiss. Jamie, I mean."

Somehow the revelation didn't shock Scorpius. He supposed Jamie Wilkins spoke of Rose with a vengeance that reminded him of the bitterness he felt for Georgia. "I thought you don't want to talk about it."

"I don't. But you look like you need the company. We can be miserable together."

"So it was an ambush."

"Oh no." Rose glanced sheepishly at him. "I liked Jamie. At least, I thought I did. I just didn't like to kiss him... and, well, later on I realised that maybe I just didn't like to kiss at all. And that's not a very appealing quality to boys, is it."

Scorpius snorted. "That hasn't stopped your admirers."

"They have this incredibly unrealistic impression of me." Scorpius could hear the familiar despondence in her voice at the topic. "They think I'm this funny, odd girl… that they can change me, that everything I do is part of some quirky performance that will go away when I become their girlfriend. They don't realise that—"

"That you're really as bizarre as advertised?"

"Well—yeah." Rose shrugged helplessly as she finished the last of her ice-cream cone. "Boys do that all the time, you know."

"What?"

"Expect too much. Or expect something else completely."

"And girls are incapable of getting straight to the point."

Rose shot him a disbelieving look. "That's not true."

"Then tell Winston Hedge firmly that he hasn't a bat's chance in hell. You tolerate his behavior—"

"I didn't ask him to follow me!"

"—and it makes him think what he's doing is acceptable. You have to be cruel to be kind sometimes."

"How on earth am I supposed to—"

"Tell him you fancy me."

Rose looked outraged at his words, gaping like a goldfish as Scorpius folded his arms casually in front of him. He tried not to feel too pleased at her indignance; she was truly a sight when she was worked up. A lovely colour was rising up her cheeks, and her bright blue eyes were squinted in a rather comical manner as she spotted Hedge across the street trying to look invisible against the bricks. "...Oh, Merlin."

"Or shall we show him instead?" Scorpius asked with a coy raise of his eyebrow.

Rose paused, jaw slack and wide-eyed. "Are you testing me?" she demanded.

Scorpius felt a tug in the corner of his lips. In one stride, he had closed in on her. Rose stilled, her shallow breaths white and warm between them.

From a distance, he heard an audible gasp. Probably Hedge.

His sudden proximity had Rose stumbling back against the glass. From inside the shop, student couples on dates gawked at them from their marble tables.

"Pygmy," Rose uttered in a daze. Scorpius felt the laughter rise in his throat at the somewhat-terror in her eyes. She had all the bravado in the world... but she wasn't kidding about hating to be kissed.

Oh, how fun it was to tease her.

"Imp," he mocked, closing the distance between them with an almost cat-like prowl, hands pressing gently against the glass on either side of her.

"Sprite," Rose said faintly, her voice barely above a whisper as their gazes locked.

Scorpius tilted his head with the barest of smirks.

Behind them, camera flashes went off like fireworks.