I apologise so much for the lack of updates. This chapter took awhile (well, a damn year) to come to be, but I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. I'm humbled people like this story, honestly. Please talk to me on tumblr, my handle is languidbones!

Chapter 10: The Bite

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Kirkpatrick Vance situation this morning, would you?" Poppy said to Rose later that afternoon.

"Oh my, what happened?" Rose placed a hand on her chest, eyes widened for good measure. "Nothing too terrible, I hope?"

"You were at breakfast, Rose. The Prefects saw you with Malfoy."

"S'that so? Well then, I may have seen something." Rose tapped her chin thoughtfully, as Arnold the Third buzzed in her lap. "But Scorpius makes for such fascinating conversation, as you know…"

Poppy raised a pale eyebrow. "…Yes, you and Malfoy are on absolute fire. And Hugo just happened to fizzle out with Vance over the weekend."

"Did they now?"

Poppy crossed her arms as Rose tickled the lush fur of her Pygmy Puff. "Shall I tell you what went down, then?"

Rose looked up at Poppy, wearing the most angelic of expressions. "Oh, I'm all ears."

"Vance had just settled down for breakfast. Word has it that he only had a sip of tea before he went into a burping spree, and out came this train of slugs—"

"Oh dear me, how awful."

"—And before he could recover, his belly began to swell, like he swallowed a balloon! We all thought he was going to float into the heavens. Clyde Barker was clinging to him by the ankles—"

"Terrible," Rose murmured.

"And just as he was done with the slugs, his face began breaking out in these god-awful boils. Apparently the Hufflepuffs were crying at the sight, Rose. They'd never seen anything like it."

"Sounds utterly despicable," Rose agreed, aggressively petting Arnold as the creature squeaked in protest. "Poor Vance. I wonder who could have done these horrible things?"

"Who indeed. Shacklebolt told me Malfoy was howling while it happened."

"Was he?"

"Yes. While at breakfast. With you." Poppy's mouth quirked upwards at the twinkle in Rose's blue eyes. "Almost fell off his seat laughing, apparently."

"Well, then, it must have been funny," Rose said, keeping a straight face.

"Shacklebolt said that he looks like a different person when he laughs."

Rose said nothing, merely raising her gaze to Poppy's with an imperceptible smile. It struck Poppy then, that as strange as the pairing of Scorpius and Rose were, perhaps their encounters were rubbing off on each other in some way. While Rose's prank missions were usually fueled by her fierce sense of duty to protect someone she loved, she had never seemed quite so—pleased about them before.

Of course, making someone like Malfoy laugh about anything was news in itself.

Hell. Rose had made Scorpius Malfoy laugh.

And she didn't look one tad sorry about it.

How peculiar, to say the least.

Rose cleared her throat, looking like she was trying to school her expression once more. Then, in a lowered voice—"Did the Prefects manage to get a look on those Zealous Zits on the prat? I didn't. I was, er, too busy eating."

"They said he went from a six to a zero," Poppy said drily.

At this, Rose finally lost her composure and exploded into peals of laughter. Poppy's groan became a chuckle—her friend's mischief had always been infectious. Head Girl or not, it was hard not to be amused by anything the Weasleys or Potters got up to.

"So it was you," Poppy said, as Rose wiped the tears from her eyes. "Bloody hell, Rosie. Vance will probably spend the next two days in the Hospital Wing."

"Well-deserved," Rose said, without a trace of remorse. "He broke Hugo's heart. He's lucky that's all he got." She tugged at Poppy's sleeve, putting on her most innocent expression. "Oh, please don't give me detention, Poppy. Shacklebolt doesn't have to know."

"He doesn't," Poppy sighed, falling onto the plush sofa beside Rose. Arnold skittered over to Poppy's lap, squeaking indignantly until Poppy tickled his chin. "Well—I won't say a word to Shacklebolt…"

Rose's face lit up.

"…on one condition. You help me with the Yule Ball."

"The—what?"

"The Yule Ball. I just need someone to help me put up the posters this week." Poppy paused at the crestfallen look on Rose's face. "Hey. You don't have to attend if you don't want to."

"It's just..." Rose made a face, picking idly at the frayed edges of her jumper. "I didn't have a good time at the one we had during our fifth year, so…" She shrugged, trailing off. "You know."

Poppy knew. The Yule Ball was held on alternate years in Hogwarts. The last one they attended had been in their fifth year, and Rose spent the entire time trying to ward off her suitors. All she had wanted to do was to dance, she said to Poppy afterwards, a quiet misery in her voice as they wiped off their makeup, but the boys had tainted the evening by devising all sorts of tricks to catch her under a mistletoe. It had become a sort of game for them, and of course by the end of the night it was Roland Cliff who had kissed Rose without her permission.

Boys are stupid, Poppy thought, suddenly furious on her friend's behalf. Just because Rose lacked awareness at the time didn't mean they could take advantage of her like that. It had ruined Rose for everyone else, even if Rose didn't necessarily see it as that. She had one of those hopelessly friendly dispositions, the sort that didn't easily lend itself to a romantic intimacy. Rose's wholesome prettiness often overshadowed her unlikely intelligence, and the disproportionate interest in her good looks must have felt isolating for someone who had never put stock in external appearances—in others or herself. Poppy suspected that Rose thought herself to be stunted in some way for her lack of interest in these so-called harmless flirtations.

Of course, that was all a load of nonsense. Rose was not incapable of love or intimacy. All she needed was someone who was able to perceive her oddities and accept them… then take things at her pace.

Perhaps things will improve when they were older, Poppy thought with an inward sigh. It seemed boys took a longer time to grow up.

"You don't have to come to the Yule Ball," Poppy said finally, squeezing Rose's arm. "But I'll still need help with those posters. If you don't mind."

Rose seemed to cheer up then, returning Poppy's smile with one of her own.

The next few days saw the seventh year students buried under a mountain of essays and lab projects. Albus, in particular, was being a complete twat about being paired with Poppy Langdon for a Potions workshop.

Scorpius didn't understand the fuss. He wasn't particularly fond of Langdon himself, but at least she was actually good at Potions. The only reason they'd fail was Albus acting like a baby over the whole thing.

Despite sharing a few classes, it had been difficult to get a word in with Rose. Everyone seemed to be frantically scrambling for study time, and Langdon had gotten to Rose every single time before Scorpius could even manage a hello. According to Albus, it seemed they had some sort of study pact. He knew Rose was dead keen on some magizoologist programme that Fabian Fawley was in, and was working hard to catch up on some her less favoured subjects.

He wondered if she was still writing Fabian Fawley.

Not that he had any right to wonder about it, he reminded himself.

Rose had seemed to be in a good mood since the Kirkpatrick Vance incident. They had shared a good laugh at breakfast that Sunday morning… and it had felt cathartic, somehow. Particularly for a morning that started out with nightmarish memories of Georgia. Scorpius had found some joy in Vance's misfortunes, but it was Rose's feigned innocence throughout the morning that really set him off. She had taken great pleasure in narrating the events to him as they happened, exclaiming in mock surprise with the appearance of every slug, bloat and boil.

"Dear me," she'd sighed, her tone soaked in sympathy. "The way things are going, you'd think he jilted a lover!"

When he'd laughed even harder at that, the other Gryffindors had stared at him reproachfully. As though he was the monster who pranked Vance.

Yet the memory made the corners of Scorpius' lips twitch, ever so slightly.

"Pray tell," came an irritably familiar drawl, "Why in Salazar's name are you smiling like an idiot on Drunklark?"

Scorpius jerked out of his daydream and blinked at Tarquin and Albus, who were both staring at him with mildly grossed out expressions. "I'm not smiling."

"Oh, you're smiling alright," Albus observed with a sly smile. Scorpius could almost detect the wheels turning beneath his jet black hair. "This goes entirely against your branding, I must say."

"My… branding."

"You have a signature scowl, I'll have you know. Witch Weekly informed me that it's one of the reasons you're so popular. Smiling is more my thing—"

Unwittingly, Scorpius scowled. Tarquin breathed a theatrical sigh of relief. "Aaaand he's back!"

"Quit reading so much Witch Weekly, Albus," Scorpius snarked, rolling his eyes. "If you wanted to know me better, one would think our friendship would suffice."

"Such a temper," Albus said, cocking an eyebrow. "And here I thought Rosie was having some effect on you. You seemed almost bearable the last couple of days."

"That isn't hard, considering what a pain you're being lately," Scorpius muttered.

Albus frowned, about to protest, when Tarquin interjected casually. "We saw Rose by herself on our way up."

Scorpius glanced quickly at Tarquin, trying to ignore the knowing grin spreading across his friend's face. "Really."

"Uh-huh." Tarquin studied his fingernails then, humming under his breath.

Scorpius felt a stab of annoyance at Tarquin's attempt to bait him. Nevertheless, he took it. "Where?"

"Oh, you know. Along the way. Some hallway somewhere…"

"Tarquin," Scorpius said through gritted teeth, "you really can afford to be more specific."

Albus studied his friend, a wicked amusement filling his expression. "My my my, isn't someone antsy."

Enough was enough. If his friends wouldn't quit being arses, he didn't have to put up with their shit. Scorpius got swiftly to his feet to leave, sweeping out of the common room just as Tarquin yelled out, "By the courtyard, you prick!"

Scorpius ignored him. He didn't give a damn toss where Rose was. He was just going for a walk.

To the courtyard.

Is all.

A prickling heat was rising up the back of his neck, but Scorpius chose to ignore it. There were far more terrible sensations in his stomach. He felt as though he had swallowed one of those creatures Rose liked to go on about. A Flitterby, or something like that. The one that went berserk in tiny spaces.

Frankly, this was all rather ridiculous. What was he doing, really? He should turn on his heel right now, return to the common room, sit apart from bloody Tarquin and Albus, and do some required reading—

Scorpius paused mid-step, trying to still the stupid Flitterby in his stomach.

There she was, in the corner of the deserted courtyard stained in sunset hues. There was a small mountain of poster scrolls beside her, but Rose seemed oblivious to them. Her attention seem to have been caught by something in the snow-soaked grass.

Because—of course Rose would be in the grass.

Somehow, it made sense to Scorpius. Though if he bothered to really think about it, it made no sense at all.

"Ah, it's no good," he heard her mumble, as he stepped quietly in her direction. "How mad could you possibly be at Professor Longbottom, little one? Where have you gone now?"

Somehow, the sound of the genuine distress in her voice was enough to drown out his former ire. He stood there, somewhat paralysed by the sight of her, suddenly unsure of how he should approach. The last time he took her by surprise, she'd been in a private argument with the idiot Winston Hedge, and he could tell his presence then had been quite unwelcome.

As it turned out, he never had a chance to say a word.

Because a nefariously pink entity had burst out of Rose's book bag… and come straight at him. Scorpius let out an undignified shriek as the creature pounced on his chest with an ear-splitting squeeeeeeee—then he had stumbled backwards, landing unceremoniously on the icy ground as he struggled to fend off the surprise attack. On the periphery, Rose had sprang to her feet in alarm. "Arnold, what are you doing—Scorpius?"

"Who—the—fuck—is—Arnold?" he yelled, trying to wrestle the pink ferocity off of him. "And what the hell is this?"

"Scorpius, hold still—oh, let me get him off you—"

The deranged fuzzball tittered, clawing wildly into Scorpius' jumper. Then, with a shrill cry, it bit into a chunk of Scorpius' ear.

With a yell of pain, Scorpius sank his fingers into its furry back, pulling at it for a dear life. Then, without warning, Rose had scrambled atop of him, keeping him still between her legs as her own fingers gripped firmly into his wrists. "Scorpius," she said, and there was laughter in her eyes even as her tone was stern, "Hold still."

The tactic worked. Scorpius let go, and the blasted fur menace bounced off of his chest. When everything returned to focus, Scorpius could feel his mortification rise up his cheeks and stay there.

"A Pygmy Puff," he said flatly, glaring daggers at the nonplussed creature as it huddled back into Rose's book bag, twittering indignantly. As though he was the one who was viciously attacked, the coward. "You mean to say I've been attacked by a Pygmy Puff."

"Arnold," Rose corrected. Scorpius glanced up at her; she was watching him with an amused little smile. "I did ask you if you wanted to meet him."

"I bloody well don't."

"Well," she said solemnly, "now you have."

In the flurry of his earlier panic, Scorpius hadn't noticed how quiet their surroundings had become. The sun had gone completely, and the courtyard was now shrouded by the dim, luminous blue of the evening. The hallways were silent; the rest of the school was probably at dinner. Overhead, the birds were crowing their last song. Like a blanket, the snow seemed to absorb the presence of everything around them… blurring out the details to paint a moody, dream-like picture. The damp ground was freezing through his cloak, but Scorpius found himself quite unwilling to make a move. And, to the quiet delight of the rogue Flitterby in his stomach…

Neither was Rose.

She was still sitting atop of him, her cheeks gorgeously flushed from the exertion of saving him from Arnold. She seemed distracted somehow; she had clutched his wrists to stop him from wrangling the stupid animal, but she had forgotten to let go of him. She was staring at him now, lips bitten dark and red hair carelessly tumbling over her shoulders. Like an exquisite thumbelina. The once-casual impression he had formed of her from the Yule Ball two years before now returned to Scorpius in breathtaking sparks of colour.

And made his traitorous heart stutter in his chest.

"What are you doing?" Rose murmured, almost in wonder.

Scorpius understood the question. What are you doing here, she meant to ask. Yet, he found no reason whatsoever to answer the actual question. He was still catching his breath, but he could barely concentrate with her soft, gentle weight pressed flush against the hottest, hardest parts of him. It was somehow akin to the best kind of fever. Scorpius swallowed, closing his eyes briefly to regain some semblance of composure.

Then he met her curious gaze once more, voice low and hoarse. "Fighting off a dangerous creature."

Rose nodded thoughtfully, playing along. "You were saving me."

"From a monstrous, man-eating furball."

She bit back a slow smile; the sight enthralled him. "I see. What a trial it must have been."

"You don't know what I've been through." Scorpius felt the beginnings of smile touch the corners of his lips. Merlin, what was it about her that amused him so? Albus was going to have a field day.

"I can only guess the pain you suffered," Rose agreed, lowering her gaze to survey his bitten ear. She thumbed gently at it, the mischief in her expression fading into genuine concern. She blinked as Scorpius got on his elbows, his face drawing close to hers.

"You don't have to guess, imp," he murmured. Her cornflower blue eyes met his in the almost darkness, and Scorpius was sure, now, that the Flitterby had migrated from his stomach to between his temples... He was so light-headed he could barely breathe. "May I show you?"

At her puzzled nod, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss beneath her ear.