Yikes, this took awhile! This is an interlude of sorts, so it's a bit shorter than the other chapters.

Thank you so much to Elacartier, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, b, ntlpurpolia, Isoldaa, xxG30rg13xx, hpdude-4life (your comments always give me life!), toolazytologin, habababa, Ray, GumihoGold, B. Vi, Jele18, untiltheskyfallsdownonme, esthela5, isaltigdiaz, Vyxien, waterlily18-OTPscorose, smbek13, bright places, The Hogwarts Train to Anywhere, ChanceToBeImmortal, rossiex, raspberryrainx3 and the many wonderful anons and guests who reviewed! :)

Isoldaa – I won't abandon this! My updates come slow, but I love this fic and will try my best to finish it for sure :)

untiltheskyfallsdownonme –Your review, oh my! Time will tell…

Chapter 9: The Ex

Fifth year

It was snowing from the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Around Scorpius, the space was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses and the hum of incessant chatter, punctuated by bursts of laughter. People grooved easily to the music, a lively set led by the boisterous tunes of the band Vexed Fairies. Mistletoes floated above the dance floor, turning it into a minefield of potential mischief. Somewhere in the centre of it, Tarquin and Albus were having the time of their lives, kissing girls and dancing like fools. Not a care in the world.

Scorpius stood on the edge of it all, observing the proceedings of the Yule Ball with the jadedness of someone much older. He was sixteen, but a ball like this was one of hundreds for him. These things only reminded him of the dull affairs organised by his grandparents; get-togethers reserved for the weak-chinned, pursed-lip set of Pureblooded aristocrats from all across Europe, desperately doing the most to secure dignified marriages for their offspring. Anything to keep their blood blue and names afloat.

It was galling for Scorpius, even as a child, to discover that his best friend Tarquin was not spared from this banal tradition. Needless to say, he found it most gratifying to befriend Albus when he got into Hogwarts, who was closer to Mudblood than Pureblood according to Lucius, yet boasted a family reputation built on the goodness of their hearts, rather than their blood type.

The night was still young. But already Scorpius felt the itchy heat under his collar, the dangerous twist in his stomach at odds with the bright and cheerful atmosphere of the Yule Ball. Beneath the tailored finery of his robes, his heart was in a state of chaos, every beat decimating the last of his self-esteem.

Georgia was nowhere to be found.

The sickening, all too familiar mixture of anxiety and fiery possessiveness rose in his gut, driving his need to find her, have her in her arms, locked between the length of him and the silk sheets of his bed. To cage her up. The more she ran, the angrier he got. You're unhinged, a voice whispered. Scorpius flinched, pretending that it wasn't Georgia herself who once spoke the words.

So be it. He would not rest until he found her.

He was tired of it, of fighting Georgia's lackadaisical outlook, her non-committal affection dragging him back and forth like an animal on a leash. He wanted her surrender to his passion, but now the fire he felt for her seemed to be lapping against his very flesh and turning his heart to ashes.

He had always been a possessive child, of toys and books and even his own parents. How furious he was whenever Lucius privately referred to their love as soiled and degrading. Too young he had learned that love was poorly regarded within aristocratic circles, treated as a disease that got in the way of refined breeding. But Scorpius had always admired his parents' relentless dedication to each other, hearts worn on their sleeves even when others were in the room.

Yet every summer was spent resenting his grandparents' attempts to poison his young mind against his parents. Whenever Lucius spouted his nonsense, it was his mother's low voice that he remembered. Your father is my first love, she liked to say, as Draco watched her whisper into little Scorpius' ear, his impassive expression melting away into something that made Scorpius' own heart twinge.

His parents loved him, surely, but not in the intense manner they adored each other—an almost visceral hunger that Scorpius could only understand as he grew older. They plyed him with toys and attention, everything a child could want, but it was their passionate connection he envied and vied for. Because, like Draco, Scorpius had it too—the fearsome desire to be loved in whole, and to return that love in full. He grew up believing that finding a love like his parents' was a matter of time… that it was his very entitlement as his father's son.

He would refuse any less.

Georgia Plumes was the first girl he wanted to marry. She was just his type—undisputedly gorgeous, a leggy physique, and possessed a delightful playfulness that coloured their sex life. They had started out strong, with her writhing body under his for a good part of the year, her moans often intertwined with his own incoherent declarations. Albus thought they were moving things too quickly; Tarquin was utterly sure she was just a fling. But as far as Scorpius was concerned, he was in love. And he fucked her the way he wanted to be loved; passionately and tenderly, like she was worth the world. While his feelings for her had burnt deeper with each kiss, her own had only cooled with time.

He wanted all of her, to close the distance between her heart and their physical chemistry. But everything he did only served widen the chasm between them.

And now here he was, starved of her affection like a pathetic toerag.

His dire thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a redhead in a wisp of a dress, shimmying in the middle of the dancefloor with a circle of admirers. How unburdened she looked. Love must come easily to someone like her, he thought, letting his gaze follow the blinking shimmer of her dress as she was twirled about by Roland Cliff.

For a moment, Scorpius was blissfully distracted by the sight… he had never thought the famously odd Rose Weasley as pretty, but there was certainly a charm about her tonight. Not in a typical way, either. There was an openness in her crinkling eyes; a sincere expressiveness that was almost sweet. Roland Cliff looked utterly smitten by her as she twirled back into his arms with a sheepishly impish smile.

Even the strange ones could be loved, he thought wryly.

What was so wrong with him?

He was hit by a sour bout of loneliness so acute he had to look away, stepping out to the darkened entrance of the Great Hall to dwell in his bad mood.

Then, like a vision, she appeared in the hallway. The moonlight highlighted the sequined accents in her dress, and there a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke to the person beside her in lowered tones.

His heart sank. She was with someone else.

Of course. With Georgia, there was always someone else.

"Georgia," Scorpius said, reaching for her as she neared. "Georgia—"

"Don't," Georgia said, abruptly pulling away from him. The pleasure in her expression had peeled away when she set her gaze on Scorpius. The realisation ate away at him, the heat in his collar slowly rising to his cheeks.

"Where did you disappear off to again?" He could barely hide his fury as Wallace Bolt paused behind Georgia and began to backtrack away from them. "Georgia, come on—"

"Don't you think you're being so needy?" And the lack of warmth in her eyes did nothing to quell the red rage filling his vision.

"What the hell were you doing with Bolt?"

A warning flashed in her eyes before she turned away from him. "Maybe it's none of your business."

In the distance, the dancing had ceased, the lively music now punctuated by curious stares. But Scorpius was too caught up in the shock of her words to register.

"You're my girlfriend," he heard himself bellow. "You're not supposed to be with someone else!"

On the periphery, there was a collective gasp as Roland Cliff kissed a shocked Rose Weasley under a floating mistletoe. But Scorpius kept his eyes trained on Georgia, who only glared back at him with such contempt that it could never be mistaken for anything but ire.

"That's it. Let go of me!" she exploded, wringing her arm from his hold. Heads turned back in their direction—more gasps. "Listen closely, Scorpius Malfoy. You were a good fuck but I never loved you. This whole thing was in your head. Nobody tells me what to do."

He grabbed her shoulders to keep her from leaving, a white-hot desperation writhing his insides, threatening to stamp out his outrage. "No, Georgia, listen to me—"

She shoved him aside. "Leave me alone. I'm fucking done with you."

The anger collapsed under something else then—a sort of empty, numb blackness. Not even the sight of Bolt hurrying after Georgia could cut into the ringing in his ears. When the words came, they betrayed a tremor in his own voice that he didn't recognise. "Georgia. Please."

She didn't even glance over her shoulder as she stormed into the Great Hall.

The rest of Hogwarts, however, stared back at him.

Scorpius sprang up from his bed, breaths shallow and skin damp. Around him, snores sounded around the dormitory, Albus' signature snorts coming at intervals. From beyond the curtains, a pale greenish light caressed the darkened room, echoes of the Great Lake sighing beyond the walls. Scorpius rubbed his face, willing the panic between his lungs to dissapate. He glanced at the clock.

Sunday. It was still too early.

He'd been woken up by a nightmare. Or rather, a memory…

Georgia's lovely face, twisted in fury, seared the back of his eyelids with blinding force. His heart lurched to his stomach, a quivering ache that throbbed through him like an aftershock.

In the name of Salazar. It's been close to a year and a half, and he was still hurting over that girl.

This was madness. He had to get over her—shake off the hold she had on him somehow. It was meaningless to pine after someone who cared nothing for him.

Grovelling isn't the way to win someone's favour, Draco had said, after the last of his anger at the screaming headlines had waned. It was quite possibly the worst thing you could do, Scorpius.

Scorpius closed his eyes at the memory, humiliation burning in the back of his throat.

Sleep would not return to him. So Scorpius made his way to the bathroom, thinking that perhaps a round on his broomstick would do him some good.

But first, breakfast.

He left the common room in a daze, the awful memories plaguing his mood. The hallways were still devoid of people. As he neared the Great Hall, hands shoved in his pockets to keep the cold from his fingers, he looked up and froze.

She was still a distance away, but Georgia Plumes was walking in his direction. If she'd seen him, she did not acknowledge his presence, merely keeping her eyes trained to the side as she sauntered towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

Towards the spot where she had tossed him aside like he was nothing.

It was ridiculous to react to her this way. Any normal person would ignore an ex, but for Scorpius the sight was as visceral as being knocked into a Pensieve. He hated that she looked well-rested and unruffled; hated that she looked perfectly sane, haunted by none of the self-loathing that clung to him like a second skin. It was unbearable. Scorpius paused mid-step, only to—

"Oof."

Rose was rubbing her nose behind him, glancing up at him with a mock crossness. "There goes my surprise," she said.

"What?" Scorpius stared down at her, his mind completely somewhere else. Rose smiled—that sweet impish smile—and suddenly he was transported back to the sillyness of their Hogsmeade date. Sugared violet ice-cream cones. Classical tunes. Bloody gossips and nosy paparazzi.

The lemon scent of her red hair.

"I was going to surprise you," Rose was saying. "Was hoping to jump out behind you and scare you a little, but—" she paused then, registering the glazed grey of his eyes; the conflicted flicker in his expression. Rose blinked, concerned. "Scorpius. Are you alright?"

Without thinking, Scorpius reached out for her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

Relief.

Rose squeaked against his shoulder, hands pressed against his chest.

"Don't move." In his arms, Rose stilled. She was so small; so much slighter than Georgia. So much less to hold on to. Scorpius released a shuddering breath, lowering his head to her shoulder and breathing in the lemon fresh scent of her hair. Without realising it, his fingers had gripped desperately into her oversized jumper.

"Scorpius," Rose murmured, cautiously, not unlike how she'd tend to a hurting Hippogriff. The tips of her fingers came in contact with his cheek. "Is something wrong?"

His lips brushed against her neck. "Tell me about Sasquatches."

"Here?" She sounded confused. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah."

"People are staring, you know."

"Nothing they haven't already seen in the papers."

"True…" Rose's voice trailed off as she spotted Georgia approach the entrance. Perhaps she'd put two and two together then; he saw her gaze trained curiously on the other girl before flitting back to Scorpius.

For one pendulous moment, Scorpius was sure she was going to pry.

But then she said, "They're found on the alps."

Relief filled him, and Scorpius closed his eyes. "Swiss?"

"Spotted on the French one, too. They're quiet, solitary things. They leave home when they're a year old, and rarely meet another one of their kind for years. So when they mate, they mate for life. Of course, these are just theories from the wizards who claim to have sighted them. No one has ever got them on a picture. I suppose they're elusive that way."

He turned his head, ever so slightly, his nose now buried in the tender spot under her ear. "My family owns a property in the French Alps," he mumbled.

"How lucky." He could hear the earnesty in her voice. "Maybe you'll spot one, one day?"

"I could take you with me." Even as the words left him, he tensed ever so slightly.

Don't you think you're being so needy?

Rose didn't react to the words, merely hummed under her breath. In his mind's eye he could see Rose wrapped up in a warm, heavy coat, his scarf around her neck… excitedly pointing out some grumpy, hairy creature in the distance… getting adorably agitated when Scorpius pretended not to spot it…

The impossibility of it made Scorpius want to laugh.

An untold longing clutched within his chest, before dying out.

Perhaps she sensed his sadness, the soft-hearted little thing that she was, because her thumb was stroking gently at his cheek, as though coaxing him away from his awful thoughts. "I suppose you could," she said.

Scorpius pulled away slowly, his face close to hers, and felt the familiar scorn return to his gaze. "You're considering it?" he said in disbelief.

"Are you taking back your offer already?" Rose returned. Behind them, more students were passing through to enter the Great Hall for breakfast. Rose glanced at them, and Scorpius tried to ignore the part of him that willed her to look only at him.

No. Not with Rose, he reminded himself.

This wasn't real.

And yet he couldn't help the way his heart skipped when her eyes met his once more, this time twinkling with a certain mischief.

"What are you up to, imp?" he said in a low tone, unable to resist catching her hand and tugging her close.

"Not much," Rose said, barely suppressing a giggle. "Though maybe Hugo and I, um, have a few things planned this morning. You'll see." She began stepping back into the Great Hall, pulling him along with her. "Have breakfast with me. You'll cheer right up. Trust me."

She smiled at him, and Scorpius couldn't find it in him to say no.