Thank you so, so much for your kind words in the last chapter. I'm blown away by the fact that people still read this. Much love to mme bookworm, talyak, syranzra, HPDWTWD, Sophie, LovelyLadyMindings, JC, Baronnis, isamartinez28, hpdude-4life, eponines, Shipslover, Escapingthisworldwithfiction, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, scorpiusrose, Violettsl, rossiex, and all the amazing Guests and Anons who left a review. I'm honestly touched.

Hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a happy new year, everyone.

Chapter 11: The Retrograde

Did he just—

Scorpius had pulled away before she could even register it. He'd kissed her. In a fleeting panic, Rose's fingers had clutched into the fine fabric of his jumper. The shadow heat of his lips seeming to reverberate from that tender spot under her ear.

The brief contact had sparked a single flame beneath her skin. Everything in their surroundings were tinged with ice, yet Rose was sure her cheeks closer resembled a furnace.

It had yet to occur to her that the momentary intimacy didn't quite bother her the way it usually would have. Because she was, at the moment, too bloody distracted by the fetching smirk grooving into Scorpius' usually unsmiling mouth.

All of this, whatever this was, felt wholly unfair.

"You troll," Rose blurted, her voice coming out squeakier than she intended.

Time seemed to suspend in the chilly winter air, afloat between her incoherent indignance and Scorpius' poor attempt to mask his amusement. Then, to her surprise—or delight, she couldn't tell which—Scorpius gave into the moment. He threw his head back and laughed.

Whatever foreign, uncomfortable sensation Rose might have felt from the kiss seemed to evaporate then.

Somehow, the sight of this unbothered, carefree Scorpius fascinated her.

Like this, he seemed a completely different person from the boy she'd met outside the Great Hall a few days ago. That Scorpius had been a dead man walking—haunted by demons she couldn't see or touch. His hold on Rose had been desperate, like she was some sort of lifeline.

For the short length of his heated embrace, she'd have gone on forever about Sasquatches if it would have exorcised his ghosts.

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

Unexpectedly, seeing his face alight this way made Rose want to smile.

"How did you find me, troll?" she said instead, after he'd calmed down enough to meet her curious gaze.

"Ha. Who said I was looking for you, imp?"

"Were you looking for Trevor, then?"

"Who?"

"Professor Longbottom's toad?" Rose said the words as though he'd just gone and kicked a Sasquatch. "Do you not know Trevor? I'm sure even your dad knows Trevor."

"My father does not acknowledge creatures. Least of all toads." Scorpius shot her a speculative look. "Why are you looking for the bugger?"

"He went missing a few hours ago. Professor Longbottom's out of his mind from worry. I thought he might be here—he goes out for a hop when he's depressed."

Scorpius merely stared at her, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Rose added, "I'd found him in the grass then, too."

"Intriguing. I'm afraid I'll be of no help." Scorpius got back up on his elbows, coming nose-to-nose with Rose as he lowered his voice. "If you're not going to get off of me soon, imp, we're going to have more problems than a missing toad."

Rose glanced downwards, coming to her senses in a blink when she became fully aware that she was, essentially, sprawled across his lap. "Oh, Merlin—" she squeaked, before untangling herself and stumbling away from him. The cursed fever had returned to her face. Scorpius watched her with the slightest of smirks, before rising to his full height as he dusted the snow off his trousers.

Drawing a quiet breath, Rose turned away from him, pressing her cold palms against her heated cheeks.

It was dark outside now, and dinner was surely almost over. Yet Rose didn't find it in her to hurry to the Great Hall. Scorpius righted his cloak and glanced over at the mountain of poster scrolls a distance from them.

"I was supposed to help Poppy hang up the posters," Rose supplied, before he could ask. "For the Yule Ball."

He snorted; just like that, his earlier playfulness seemed to extinguish from his demeanor. "When did that become your job?"

"When I decided I didn't want detention for what happened to Vance." She couldn't explain why she felt her heart take a tiny leap at the amusement that flashed past his face. "I didn't have a good time at the last one, you know."

There was a long pause. "Neither did I."

Rose grinned up at him. "Don't even think about asking me."

Scorpius raised his eyes to meet hers then, meeting her good humour with a melancholy she wasn't expecting. "I wasn't planning to, imp."

And then he was walking away, his pale gold hair glinting under the moonlight as he went. Rose watched him go, feeling somewhat stung… yet having no idea why.

Arnold the Third tittered impatiently at her feet.

Rose sighed and picked up her Pygmy Puff, cuddling him to her chest. "Hush," she murmured, "I'm blaming you for this one."

According to Lily, Mercury had gone into retrograde at lunchtime the next day.

This particular celestial event made no difference to Rose's routine. She had always preferred to live life by the tangibles. Rose had a healthy respect for astronomy—and astrology, as it were—but she was often taken aback by the lengths her peers went to to avoid the superstitions that followed this… unique space activity.

"I swear," Lily said gravely, projecting the wisdom of a girl who'd survived many a planetary crisis, "every time Mercury goes into retrograde, so does my entire life as I know it. My correspondence goes missing, dad forgets to pay the bills, my wand stops working, my exes come out of the woodwork—"

"All wonderful coincidences, perhaps?" Rose said in-between mouthfuls of pie. "Would Uncle Harry's bill woes be solved if he automated his payment cycles with Gringotts?"

"He doesn't trust Gringotts. He broke into Gringotts." Lily's green eyes fairly sparkled as oohs and aahs went around the Gryffindor table. She loved bringing up her father's shenanigans—especially the illegal ones. To Rose: "And don't even try to justify my exes talking to me during a retrograde. People from the past always turn up in my life in this trying time."

"Lily, you have class with your exes. They turn up in your life every day."

"Not to mention," Lily went on, as though Rose hadn't raised a perfectly reasonable fact, "rampant miscommunication. Truths get misconstrued! Intentions become foggy! Words hold new meanings!"

"Sounds like a day in the life for me," Rose guffawed, taking another bite of her pie. "Yum. Have you tried the pie, Lily? It's smashing."

"Well, let's test that theory, then," Lily said, as Rose busied herself with scooping pie onto her cousin's empty plate. "Word on the street is, Malfoy got himself a pretty little bite on his ear—"

Rose choked loudly on her spoonful of pie. A few Gryffindors glanced curiously in their direction. "Lily!"

"Rose," Lily returned, barely containing a giggle. "Tell me. Is Mercury in retrograde, or are you that sort? My class went mad this morning discussing it, I'll have you know—"

"I'm not the biter!" Rose exclaimed, attracting a few sniggers from eavesdroppers along the Gryffindor table.

"We don't kink-shame in this day and age," Lily said matter-of-factly.

"No, Lily—I'm not the biter. It was Arnold." Even as the words left her mouth, Rose was aware of how unbelievable it sounded. In fact, it sounded just like the delusional excuses Albus liked to make when he turned up to class with love bites scattered across his neck.

Bloody hell. She glanced down mournfully at her potato pie, deciding whether or not to lose her appetite.

Maybe Mercury in retrograde really was a thing.

"You're saying Arnold the bloody Third bit Malfoy in the ear? How? Why?" Lily contemplated this bit of unexpected information, squinting as she tried to picture the scene. "What—did Malfoy just let it?"

Rose resumed eating with a vengeance. There was no use forgoing food over such trite nonsense. "I don't know, Lily. Maybe he was attracted to Scorpius' cologne—"

"Oh, I'm sure he was," Lily mused, with a none-too-discreet wink and nudge. "What does Malfoy smell like, I wonder? Sexual pine? Manly musk? What could have attracted Arnold so?"

Rose set down her fork. She wasn't going to have peace at lunch today, that's for sure.

"Crikey, Rosie. Retrograde or not, you two are the best thing to happen to Hogwarts this year. I mean, I know you two are for show but I'm on the edge of my seat here—hey. Where are you going?"

Rose merely offered a toothy grin, slipping on her headphones and heading out of the Great Hall.

Whenever people talked too much, she could always rely on Bach to drown them out.

There was still a bit of time before her next class. Rose slipped through the hallways, the delicate sounds of Bach's Goldberg Variations hushing the crowd. She breathed a quiet sight of relief. Scorpius wasn't in any of her classes today—just as well. She couldn't pinpoint why she felt awkward at the thought of him. It was a new—and unwelcome—development in their sort-of friendship. And they were friends, Rose told herself, her brows furrowing. Despite the fact that their relationship was for show, she did enjoy Scorpius' company.

She slowed mid-step, unwittingly caught in the daydream of his smile.

It would be lucky if she could remain friends with Scorpius after the whole thing was over, she thought wistfully. If he would have her, of course.

Somehow the thought did nothing to soothe the anxious flutter in her middle.

Too much pie, Rose decided. Either that, or her constant worry over the missing toad was causing tummy troubles.

She found herself back in the courtyard, behind a cluster of withered bushes where Trevor liked to hide. Much to Professor Longbottom's chagrin, the aging toad was prone to existential bouts, during which he would disappear for days. Rose's childhood was peppered with memories of toad hunts across Ottery St. Catchpole, with Neville fretting in the background. Rose loved those visits, even if Trevor liked to go missing at the most inopportune times.

Rose didn't know how long she had been crouched in the bushes, twigs and leaves catching in her clothes and hair, when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Startled, she looked up into the mild midday sun to see the unmistakable silhouette of Georgia Plumes.

Suddenly self-conscious, Rose moved to straighten herself, hurrying to remove her headphones. "Georgia," she said brightly, dusting herself off. Georgia's eyes followed the dead leaves fluttering off her red hair, and Rose felt herself redden. "Hello. Er, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Georgia said good-naturedly.

"Missing toad. Existential crisis. Just about sums it up." Rose swatted a stray twig off her skirt as she stepped carefully out of the bushes.

She couldn't help but stare as she came face to face with Georgia. That was the kind of beautiful she was. There was simply an effortless loveliness about her. She had a statuesque, model-like physique, with golden olive skin even in the approaching winter. Her dark hair fell thick and luscious over her shoulders, and there was a bold sensuality in her full, mauve-painted lips. Even just standing here, against the drab backdrop of the Hogwarts courtyard, she looked nothing short of sensational. In short, she was the woman most men dreamed about, but were often too intimidated to pursue.

There's a blessing in that, Rose thought with an inward smile.

"Well, I hope it's a good time. To talk, I mean."

"To me?" Rose said intelligently. Despite Scorpius' complex feelings about the girl, Rose considered Georgia a friend, even if a casual one. They had been partnered a few years ago in a Muggle Studies class, and had done a successful presentation on muggles in pop music. The students in their class had been enamoured with Taylor Swift for a whole month after that.

Even so. She couldn't imagine what Georgia Plumes wanted with her on this rather lifeless winter afternoon.

"Yes," Georgia breathed. Even the husky lilt in her voice was pretty. Rose returned her smile, even though she could no longer shake the feeling that she wasn't going to like this conversation.

So she fumbled with her headphones, and waited.

Embarrassment stole across Georgia's face then."I just—heard a rumour, and I wanted to know how true it is." It took her a moment to form the words. "There's no easy way to say this… but some people are going around saying you're in a staged relationship."

Rose looked blankly at her.

Georgia cleared her throat. "With Scorpius."

"Oh. Right."

"The reason I'm here, Rose… well, I was thinking that it might be true."

"Georgia," Rose said, keeping her tone cheery, "maybe it would be best to ignore the gossips. You know how it is with Scorpius and me. We've always been targets of people with nothing to do."

Georgia's dark eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Really." She collected herself then. "Well. I'm not going to lie, I did think there was some truth to it. You're not… Scorpius doesn't usually… You're very cute of course, and very popular as we all know, but there's just a certain… type that he has—"

At this, Rose felt the overwhelming urge to slip her headphones back on. She may lack awareness—some would say she was naïve—but she wasn't a complete doof. Scorpius' type wasn't exactly news to her, or anyone at Hogwarts. What Georgia meant to say was Scorpius went for a different standard in women. He liked a certain tier of girls. Always have.

He went for the goddesses among them. The ones that other boys were too afraid to touch.

Rose was no goddess. She knew it.

And Georgia, the goddess herself, knew it.

"Georgia," Rose heard herself say, almost as though she was detached from her own voice, "what are you getting at?"

Georgia took a deep breath and lifted her chin. "I don't mean to offend you, Rose. But I can't deny that I had hoped your relationship is some sort of stunt. Whatever your reasons are. That way… that way I could still have a chance."

None of this made any sense to Rose. She was sure her expression said the same, because Georgia was wringing her hands now.

"Look, I was—mean to him. I was young and stupid, and didn't know better. I just want a chance to make it work for us again. And I was trying to find a way to broach the subject with Scorpius, but then you and him happened out of the blue…" She shook her head. "I can't say I saw it coming. Nobody did, in fact."

"You want another chance," Rose repeated, trying to comprehend Georgia's words. "With Scorpius."

"I—yes."

"But you hurt him."

"And I regret it."

It was hard to erase the memory of Scorpius holding her that morning, so tightly she could barely breathe. As sullen and prickly as he was, he had craved desperately for tenderness… and had blindly sought it from a girl he barely cared for. The realisation made Rose's heart twinge. She raised her gaze to Georgia's, unable to hide her confusion.

"Did you know how torn up you made him?" she burst out. "Maybe that relationship meant nothing to you then. But he loved you, Georgia. You didn't have to humiliate him like that."

"Rose," Georgia said, with an edge in her voice, "I didn't come here for a lecture. So what you have with Scorpius isn't a fake relationship. Colour me shocked. I don't want to wreck what you have. But if he has feelings for me still, I'm not going to hold back just because he's on rebound."

"Rebound?"

"Yes," Georgia said curtly. "Because that's all you are. It's all you can be." She must have mistaken Rose's bewilderment as hurt, because she went on: "I've grown up, Rose. It's no longer a game. We're graduating, we'll need to take love matches seriously. I have my future to think about. As does Scorpius."

"You mean marriage," Rose said.

"It's natural. Tarquin's been engaged to Emery for years. And it's only a matter of time before Scorpius has his turn."

"What makes you think you're the one?" It wasn't a catty question; Rose genuinely wanted to know. Because she hadn't the first clue.

Georgia sighed. "He proposed to me. Three or four times."

"Well, then you had your chance."

"It would have been madness, Rose. We were so young—I just wanted to have a little fun. I didn't think he'd declare his undying love for me. We were sixteen. Not to mention he was—unbearable."

"He might still be unbearable."

"There's a difference now. We're older. I've changed. I'll be able to handle it."

"So now you're saying yes to his proposal. Belatedly," Rose said. "But what if he's changed, too?"

Georgia closed her eyes, as though to keep her annoyance at bay. "People don't change that quickly."

"But you have?" It was impossible to keep the scepticism out of her voice.

"You have no part in this equation," Georgia said, running out of patience. "Have you fucked him, then? Has he told you he loved you in every possible position? Gotten jealous of the ground you walked on the moment you're out of his bed? Kissed every part of you until he's sure he knows where his favourite spot is on your body? Because according to Tarquin, he hadn't been with anyone since I left him. And know this: a girl who can't entice him to bed isn't the girl for him."

None of it made sense to Rose. She thought of Scorpius, of the almost innocent way he'd kissed her the night before, in the hidden spot under her ear. A warmth rose in the bottom of her stomach. "…That's not what it's about."

"I'm not sure you know what it's about." Georgia's tone cooled. "You have no idea what Scorpius and I had. You don't even come close."

Rose merely stared back at Georgia, her thoughts muddled.

"Rose. I like you. You're decent, and you have blokes left and right vying for your attention. But Scorpius—he's out of your league. He isn't for you. He wouldn't have looked at you twice if I hadn't left him. He may cling to you now, but—"

"Do you love him?"

Georgia frowned. "What?"

"Tell me you do. And I'll think about it."

"Why does it matter? That's not what it's about. For our sort, marriages are built on more than just love." There was pity in Georgia's eyes now. "But I don't expect you to understand that."

Her sort. Her sort was a family built on warm nights by the fire, marshmallows in hot chocolate, silly arguments in the kitchen, snuggles in the morning. Ron and Hermione, for all their oddities and flaws, had loved them all into being. Since a child, Rose had always found her parents' affections for each other over the top… nonsensical play fights only put to an end with a stolen kiss or embrace. Yet, despite their differences, the cutting wit of their banter was always cloaked in an affection that were equal parts tender and fierce.

Theirs was a friendship set on fire. The most wonderful sort of love.

She couldn't imagine a marriage built on anything else.

How, she thought bleakly, did Scorpius find himself in love with a girl who cared nothing about affection—whether receiving or giving it?

Scorpius, who needed to be loved in return more than he needed to breathe.

"You could have asked him for anything," Rose murmured absently. "A Manticore, even."

"A Manti—?"

"You wouldn't give him the same. That's the point."

Georgia crossed her arms, her lips pursed. "None of this matters. I'm telling you this because I care about you, Rose. When he does break up with you, you'll be prepared. It won't take you long to get over him, I'm sure."

"He has a house in the French Alps," Rose mused, distracted by her thoughts now. "Close to the Sasquatches. Did you know?"

Georgia's face clouded over with confusion at this sudden change in topic. "What?"

"And he likes sugar violet ice-cream. Even if he doesn't like to admit it."

This sudden barrage of information had thrown Georgia for a loop. She opened her mouth to say something, only to clamp it back shut in exasperation. "You don't understand."

"You're right. I really don't." Rose gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But thanks for letting me know. Good luck with Scorpius."

She put on her headphones, then hurried out of the courtyard.