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earnestly-written – Thank you especially for your kind concrit, my dear!
Chapter 12: The Circus
- . -
HOGWARTS, IT'S TIME
Put your finest on
Request a merry song
Come along with someone you adore
For you are invited, one and all—
To an unforgettable night at
THE YULE BALL
*With our special musical guest—
THE WELL WELL WELLS
Fourth years and up only
-.-
"If you ask me," came a low, husky voice that sent a tingle down Hugo's spine, "that's just bad poetry."
Startled, he glanced over his shoulder to meet Tarquin Zabini's sleepy hazel-green eyes.
Hugo dragged his gaze back to the poster, inwardly chastising himself for not hearing him approach.
Not that Zabini was easy to miss, usually. In fact, Hugo found him quite impossible to ignore. Like Scorpius, he was freakishly tall and handsomely built. Everything about him fairly radiated strength—from the shape of his broad, muscled shoulders to the masculine elegance of his gait.
Perhaps, Hugo thought wryly, if he'd taken his father's advice and picked up Quidditch from the beginning, he wouldn't have remained as awkward and twig-like as he was in his first year.
"I'll be sure to pass your feedback to Poppy," Hugo said then, trying to keep the staccato out of his voice.
"I'll be sure to pass it on to Langdon myself," Zabini murmured, sounding quite as though half his thoughts were still in bed. It was rather early in the morning, and the hallways were still largely empty. His curious gaze came to rest on Hugo, and—curse it all—it took everything in Hugo to keep from blushing. "As gifted as she is in her studies, I doubt that gift extends to her way with words."
Hugo couldn't help a snort. "You must know her well."
"What I know of Langdon, I know from Albus."
"So… nothing good?"
Amusement lifted the corners of Tarquin's lips then. Hugo forced himself to look away. Anywhere but Zabini's handsome profile. The moment seemed to linger, getting more uncomfortable by the second… yet Zabini remained completely unaffected, adding nothing to their non-conversation.
Nor did he make a move to end it.
This was certainly out of the ordinary, to Hugo at least. Through the years, neither of them had ever acknowledged each other outside of their interactions with Albus. In fact, they had never spoken beyond pleasantries before today. Except for that wretched encounter at Hogsmeade when Hugo had ran into him while stalking Vance.
Hugo shook his head irritably, trying to quash the painful memory.
Vance was history. He had no place in the present.
Instead, he found himself summoning his inner bravado and looking up at Zabini with a cocked eyebrow.
"So, uh. Are you talking to me because Julienne Taft asked me to the Yule Ball?"
"Did she now?" Zabini hummed under his breath, considering the information. "Interesting."
Somehow this reveal didn't seem to faze him in the least. Hugo was beginning to get the distinct impression that very few things in life could ruffle Zabini's feathers, least of all a girl who was quite possibly just one of many pretty notches on his bedpost…
Hugo shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to think about it.
"Well, I can't say I'm too heartbroken," Zabini mused, breaking the silence. "Julienne and I only dated for two weeks. She said I was too… what was it… erratic for her taste, or something like that. She needed a more… sensitive man."
"We all do," Hugo said under his breath.
"Perhaps," Zabini agreed unexpectedly. "Enjoy Julienne. I, on the other hand, am almost out of girls to date."
The pale morning light had caught in the copper strands of Tarquin's dark hair. Hugo blinked, momentarily distracted at the sight... For one awful, wonderful moment, he was transported back to his first year self—twelve and stupid once more, his knees close to buckling as Albus forcefully dragged him across the train platform to meet his best friends for the first time. Even from afar, Hugo had found Zabini heartbreakingly gorgeous. He towered over his peers, his complexion swarthy and glowing from the summer holidays, dark locks falling into laughing hazel-green eyes. Scorpius was far less approachable, his fine-boned features made severe by a moody stare that resembled a storm...
But Tarquin. Tarquin had smiled warmly as Hugo stammered and stared—
Ah. So this one's your cousin, Albus?
Yeah! Hugo's just starting at Hogwarts. Hey, Hugo, this is Tarquin—go on, shake his hand for Merlin's sake, he won't bite—
"You know," Zabini continued at present, "I've always wanted a chance to beat you at Wizard's Chess." He gestured at the chess set under Hugo's arm. "I play often with my grandfather. He's quite the expert."
Despite himself, Hugo couldn't resist rolling his eyes. "Zabini. You do know I'm the youngest chess champion in England. Not even bragging. Just stating a fact."
"I fancy my chances, Weasley." Zabini tilted his head towards the Great Hall. "Perhaps if you'd accompany me for breakfast, I'll show you a move or two."
Hugo broke into a wide smile. "Oh, it's on. But no crying when you lose."
Tarquin smirked over his shoulder. "You'll be the one crying."
"This isn't up for debate," Hugo retorted, feeling his spirits lift as he followed Tarquin to the Slytherin table.
The fiasco, as Scorpius would come to remember it later, began with the most inconspicuous of notes slipped into his Transfiguration textbook.
The Slytherins took seventh year Transfiguration with Ravenclaws, which immediately made it one of Scorpius' least favourite subjects. He attended each one of those classes with a hostile determination to ignore every last Ravenclaw—Georgia most of all.
It had gutted him in fifth year to see her again in classes after the Yule Ball, completely at ease with herself and everyone around her. All while he was treated like he sported a gnarly case of Spattergroit—both by his schoolmates and the press.
Even though he was, ultimately, the only one salvaging a broken heart.
Class looked to be especially trying on this day. Around him, his classmates were abuzz with the excitement of the upcoming Yule Ball. He felt suffocated by the circus of it all—a hideous concoction of intermittent giggles, high-pitched whispers, furtive nudges, overly hopeful glances, and piss-poor attempts to suss out potential dates.
The stinking familiarity of it made Scorpius feel physically ill.
"Lads, I'm asking Madison Bard to the ball," Albus announced before class began, as he settled into the seat beside Scorpius. "I think she's been making eyes at me. Even gave me detention." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You know what that means."
"What's with your fetish with Prefects?" Tarquin asked bluntly. Albus kicked him under the desk. "Ow!"
"Tch. Who are you asking?" Albus narrowed his eyes, trying to recall names. "Aren't you with Agatha now? No, wait—wasn't it Julienne?"
"I must have dated every girl in Hogwarts at this point. Well, except your relatives, of course."
"Yeah, don't go there," Albus muttered, chancing a glance at Scorpius. "So... you going with Rose, Scorpius?"
Scorpius shrugged, flipping idly through his Transfiguration textbook. "She didn't seem keen on going. And neither am I."
"Whoa, won't that aggravate the gossips?" Albus looked thoughtfully at his friend, concern reaching his eyes. "It wouldn't hurt, you know. To show up with Rose. Give the people what they want, and let Rose show you a good time. She's great at parties."
"Unless you're trying to kiss her," Tarquin chimed in. "Ow! Damnit, Albus."
As Albus and Tarquin continued to bicker, Headmistress McGonagall swept into the room to commence the class. It was in the middle of roll call that Scorpius noticed a fluttering piece of parchment jammed in the back pages of his textbook. He raised a slow eyebrow.
Something from Rose, perhaps? Likely a drawing of a Murtlap. Or an indignant description of Trevor the toad. Or some random poem about some mysterious three-headed beast he hadn't yet been educated on…
Scorpius snorted softly. As silly as his guesses were, he suspected he wouldn't be too far off. He glanced covertly at Albus and Tarquin to make sure they hadn't noticed, before unfolding the note over his texts.
And felt his breath catch in his throat.
Dear Scorpius,
We need to talk—it's important. It's about us.
Perhaps you can stay behind after class?
Love, Georgia
Love, Georgia. The irony of those two words in the same sentence was not lost on him. For a brief moment, Scorpius was convinced this was some sort of cruel joke, directed at him to remind him of his disastrous Yule Ball two years ago. But when he looked up and met Georgia's pleading eyes from across the room, the world seemed to slow into a shuddering stop.
No, he realised. This wasn't a joke.
This resembled the moment they had two years ago. He'd caught her eye across the classroom, just like this. That sultry bambi gaze, paired with generous mauve-painted lips pulled into the most inviting of smiles. The sight had gone straight to his loins.
And that was how they began.
The note had crumpled beneath his fist. Scorpius turned his focus back to his textbook as McGonagall droned on at the front of the classroom, the words before him blurring into shapes.
It's about us.
What could she possibly want with him after all this time? She had all those months to return to him, to beg for forgiveness, to give their relationship a second chance.
And yet… surely that would be the last thing on her mind? Scorpius' mind raced, frantically seeking possibilities and loopholes. This was the girl who said, right in front of the entire school, that she'd never loved him for a minute.
He'd refused to believe it then.
A part of him refused to believe it still.
Perhaps you can stay behind after class?
Scorpius released a trembling breath. He abhorred the well of hope rising in his stomach, warring with the white-hot rage that had sustained him the past two years. Just looking at Georgia now ignited a longing and repulsion so intense he could hardly bear it. What he had for her was love, of that he was sure—but the heart of it had been left to rot, now disfigured beyond recognition. And he'd held on stubbornly to the decay for the past two years, letting it consume him from the inside out.
Until.
Cornflower blue eyes came to mind then… a blue so fetching and vivid that the midday sky could hardly hope to rival its colour. Scorpius lowered his gaze to the crumpled parchment in his palm, and found himself fervently wishing away the truth… that it contained the drawing of a Murtlap he'd imagined.
He didn't want to talk to Georgia.
But he would hear what she had to say.
The Herbology quiz that morning had, against all odds, gone well. Professor Longbottom had patted Rose proudly on the shoulder after she had correctly identified four out of five plants. As much as Rose adored nature and wildlife, she had always struggled with the complexities of Herbology. The only way to excel at it, Rose had reasoned with herself earlier in the term, was to pretend that plants were half as compelling as magical beasts. Based on her score on this quiz, the tactic sort of worked.
After all, even she had to admit the Devil's Snare was something to behold. From her parents' accounts, she supposed it could be just as viciously interesting as a Grindylow, which was a plus in her book.
Rose was reviewing her Herbology notes on the brick parapet along one of the hallways when a group of Slytherins and Ravenclaws strode in her direction. Her headphones blocked out the cacophony of pre-Yule Ball chatter, which was a relief. But Albus' enthusiastic greeting, too, was trampled out by the Beethoven.
"I can't hear you," Rose said.
Albus threw up his hands and spoke again, over-enunciating the words for her benefit. Rose gave up; she wasn't a bloody lip-reader. She pulled off her headphones.
"—UCKING MOZART—oh. Hello, Rose. I said hello."
Rose tried not giggle. Behind him, Tarquin had waved at them and headed off in the direction of the Great Hall for lunch. She edged forward in her seat, trying to look past Albus' shoulders for a hint of white-blond hair in the blustering crowd of hungry Slytherins.
Albus grinned, snapping his fingers in Rose's face to get her attention."Scorpius stayed behind after Transfiguration."
"Oh. Why?"
"Dunno. Moping, I suppose. The Great Hall will be insufferable for him. Nobody's going to shut up about the Yule Ball." He gave his cousin a questioning look. "And from what I heard, you're not interested in going."
"I wouldn't be missing out, that's for sure." Rose grinned cheekily at Albus. "I'll just hang out with the Hippogriffs." She paused, watching the last of the Ravenclaws turn the corner. "Say… you didn't see Georgia on your way out, did you?"
"You mean Plumes? No, I—hey, where are you going?"
Rose had pushed herself off the paraphet, waving goodbye to a visibly befuddled Albus as she headed in the opposite direction. There was a growing unease in her belly as she closed in on the Transfiguration classroom.
What, she asked herself, was she expecting to find?
It hadn't been easy to let go of the conversation with Georgia from the day before. Inexplicably, Rose had found herself unsettled by Georgia's intentions... whatever they were. She wasn't all too clear on that herself. Yet, upon deeper thought, it did not escape her that this entanglement went beyond the simple matter of feelings. Marriage was serious business for Purebloods. Rose had heard enough horror stories about the ancient wizarding aristocracies to know she was out of her depth on the subject.
As comfortable as she was with uncertainties, Rose had considered her options using reason. She could pretend the talk with Georgia never happened, then deal with the situation as it unfolded. Scorpius might take care of it… and she'd be none the wiser. After all, Georgia was, in a way, right about one thing. Rose didn't come close to understanding what Scorpius had with Georgia.
Rose had never been in love.
Yet, there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind… And that was Scorpius himself. The thought of Scorpius having to confront the situation by himself didn't sit well with Rose.
Somehow, she wanted to offer her friendship. Whatever the outcome.
Even if it all ended with him breaking up with her.
The thought had barely crossed her mind until this very moment, as the Transfiguration classroom appeared at the end of the hallway. Even after Georgia's words, Rose hadn't allowed herself to really consider the consequences of Scorpius dropping her.
Although she had been, from day one, prepared for Scorpius to dump her publicly at graduation… it was a whole other story for him to leave her after just a few weeks. For Georgia Plumes, of all people.
It would be scandal. Again.
Not to mention her stalkers would gleefully return to the fold, rounding out the unforgiving media scrutiny on her failures as a hussy in the middle of a NEWTs year…
Bloody hell.
All of these things, of course, weighed heavily on Rose's mind. But she could not help her thoughts from returning to Scorpius.
They had only been together a few weeks, but Rose could no longer deny she had gotten accustomed to his unique brand of broody. She liked learning him. Like the best of magical beasts, he was a breathtaking study in contradictions. As waspish and cynical as he was, he still found ways to be around her for the sake of their little façade. Whether or not she asked him to.
Somehow, Rose felt an obligation to protect the most tender parts of him that she'd been lucky enough to glimpse. Scorpius, despite his intimidating presence and glacial appearance, kept the most vulnerable of hearts. And Rose had always found herself most attached to the creatures that hurt. Like Trevor, she thought, momentarily seized by another bout of anxiety over the missing toad.
There were voices coming from the Transfiguration classroom. Rose froze, recognising them at once. As much as she loathed to eavesdrop, the words carried over to the doorway where she stood.
"…made a mistake," came Georgia's hushed tones. "You must understand, Scorpius, that we were so young, and—"
"Georgia." There was a weariness in the way Scorpius said her name. "Get on with it. What are you asking, really?"
"I know you're with Rose. I don't harbour any hopes." The scrape of a moving chair. "But you can't deny that what we have—it was something else. Nothing could possibly come close."
A snort. "She probably likes me more than you ever did. That comes close enough."
"Scorpius. Darling." Rose felt her cheeks heat up at the endearment, her fingers tightening around her Herbology notes. "You can't say you don't have feelings for me. If you no longer want me, tell it to my face—I'll leave you alone then. But if you can't…"
"Where was this two years ago?" Scorpius asked sharply. "Why couldn't you have said this then? Why now? Don't tell me you're jealous of her?"
"Jealous? Of Rose?" Georgia let out a startled laugh.
"Then what is it?" He sounded impatient now. "This makes no fucking sense."
"Nothing about us made any sense." Georgia hesitated. "We were too young to handle it then, but we'll be able to now. I promise we're suited, Scorpius. Let me prove it to you."
"Suited? You made my life hell. Every single day we were together."
"Hell?" The soft rustle of clothes; Rose forgot to breathe. "I remember you calling it a thousand different things, but hell wasn't one of them. Tell me if this is hell, Scorpius. You can't tell me you forgot how this feels."
The silence that followed was nothing less than excruciating.
Rose pressed herself against the door, debating within herself if this was worth a shot. It would be disastrous if they spotted her. But she had to know, she told herself. She had to—
She leaned forward and peeked into the classroom.
Perhaps a part of her had already expected it, but nothing could possibly prepare her for the sight. Scorpius was leaning against one of the desks… and Georgia was kissing him. Her lithe body had molded hotly against his refined physique, slender fingers raking through his silken blond hair at leisure.
The sheer sensuality of the scene knocked the air from Rose's lungs. She found herself stumbling back, her mind going perfectly blank.
Of course Georgia kissed him, she thought numbly. She wanted him.
Wasn't this the exact thing she was warned about?
And he would kiss her back, because—
She probably likes me more than you ever did.
Rose didn't know what to think.
The Herbology notes had slipped out from her grasp, parchments spilling onto the stone floor. Rose didn't stay to see Scorpius break away from Georgia's kiss, his pale grey eyes catching a dash of red as the parchments scattered into stillness across the doorway of the classroom.