Sending my love to JC, bridget237, JThawN, Mme bookworm, LillyMay77, NotsoSugarQueen, LilyJean630, Meowmeow, Rae Ella, B. Vi, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, knottedroses, isamartinez28, Violettsl, Escapingtheworldwithfiction, Weasleyred91, HPDWTWD, The Chirpy Bitch, scorpiusrose, Jele18, Hayley413, Shipslover, hpdude-4life, bright places, Najajikha, catwomannnnn1, Connected-by-a-Semicolon, Isoldaa, SkiesOfStars, and all the wonderful guests/anons who took the time to leave a review. I hope you love this chapter… I kept coming back to what you guys are saying to get inspired. Thank you for hanging on.
I'm thinking this fic will probably reach 30 chapters – it honestly feels like I still have so much story to tell! I want to dig a little deeper, so please stay with me for the unravelling of things…
I'm cheesy, so feel free to peruse the playlist for this fic on Spotify: tiny . cc /ABoS [Remove the spaces]
Chapter 15: The Ball
Past the windows, fresh snow drifted downwards against a canvas of midnight blue, feather-like and silent, enveloping the world in a glistening pearl blanket. Scorpius stared blindly at the changing view, yet not really seeing anything. He had lost track of how long he stood there in the Transfiguration classroom in a sort of daze.
After Georgia had gone, he was left somewhat paralysed by the phantom aftershock that came from falling out of love. Disbelief, followed by elation. It was everything at once. Like returning to himself from before. Like feeling anew.
Ghost sounds of the Yule Ball festivities travelled through stone walls, dream-like echoes of a faraway place. Scorpius remained by the rain-stained window, lost in thought for minutes, until a movement in the grounds below caught his eye.
His heart leapt at the sight, the muted moonlit night before him suddenly worthy of his attention. That unruly red hair was unmistakable. It struck him, then, that she was probably the only person in the entire school—apart from him—who wouldn't be at the Ball. His palms had come to rest against the glass, the tip of his fingers landing on her distant figure. As though he could touch her from where he was.
There was something sombre about the sight of this girl alone in the wide expanse of snow. Where was she going alone at this time of the evening? Something surged through him then—irritation and worry, akin to the sensation from a few weeks ago, when he'd spotted her from afar during Quidditch. Not the Forbbiden Forest again, surely?
She had to be freezing. Even from where he was, it was obvious the imp wasn't wearing a cloak or a scarf. Without a second thought, Scorpius had turned on his heel, leaving the Transfiguration classroom behind him.
Later, he would wonder at all the reasons for trudging through snow in his finest dragonhide oxfords. For a girl, no less.
At the moment, however, he was only focused on finding her.
It should be easy to get to her. Once on the grounds, he only had to follow her clumsy footprints in the barely touched snow. The moon had risen above him, its fullness painting a layer of frosty ivory over everything it touched… giving his otherwise ordinary surroundings an otherworldly quality.
Then, from a distance—a barely suppressed sob broke the deafening winter silence.
Scorpius halted in the snow, senses on alert.
What happened next resembled some kind of vision from a dream. From between shadows and moonlight, a beastly silhouette emerged, its bird-like glare glowing a dangerous molten orange. With a growing sense of alarm, Scorpius locked eyes with the looming creature—half eagle, half horse. His breath escaped him in a sharp hiss, meeting the winter air in a puff of white.
A Hippogriff. What were the chances of coming across one on an evening like this?
Before Scorpius could contemplate this, he heard it again.
A quiet, muffled sob.
Without thinking, he stepped forward to approach the sound. Affronted by this sudden movement, the Hippogriff growled, feathered wings spreading wide behind him to drive Scorpius back.
Even so, from this new angle, Scorpius caught a glimpse of red, the vivid colour deepened by the evening blue. Rose. She was crouched in the snow, her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. The sight only served to rankle at him; and, once more, he found himself doing the thoughtless thing and reaching towards her. But the Hippogriff was having none of it, blocking him from Rose and sinking its stubborn claws into the ground between them.
So close, yet so far.
Exasperated, Scorpius finally paid a little attention to the beast. The Malfoy family obviously had a troubled history with Hippogriffs; no doubt this one knew who he was just by smelling him. Thanks for that, father.
He had no choice. He'll take a damn risk.
"Rose," Scorpius bellowed.
The Hippogriff released a deep, prolonged cry that sounded between a squawk and a roar, making its offense known in terrifying fashion. Scorpius backed up in alarm, hands raised. Yet it was clear that the gamble paid off, because Rose looked up blearily from where she was, her cheeks wet from her tears.
"Scorpius?" she murmured, rising to her feet.
"A little help here," Scorpius said, his cautious gaze fixed on the Hippogriff as it sank into a defensive stance, its eyes turning a devil's red. "I may not survive this one if it jumps on me."
A gurgled laugh. Then, with a strange desolation in her voice—"Please, can't we break up another time?"
Scorpius forced his gaze away from the threatening Hippogriff to Rose. There was something amiss with her, he realised. First, she should be freezing in that slip of a dress she was wearing—yet she hardly seemed to notice the frigid temperature. Second… she looked completely grief-stricken, which was not a sight he was used to.
It occurred to him, then, that a girl as sweet as Rose Weasley shouldn't ever have reason to cry.
"Nobody's breaking up with anyone," he said, trying to keep his tone even lest he alarmed the rogue Hippogriff. "Please, just—come here and tell me what's wrong."
Rose was staring at him, yet seemed to barely register his presence. In a daze, she stepped forward, her blue eyes swimming with tears once more.
"You're not already crying over our future breakup, are you?" Scorpius said, glancing back at her as the Hippogriff hissed at him.
That, at least, earned a laugh out of Rose… before she burst into tears once more. By now, Scorpius felt the overwhelming urge to go to her, Hippogriff or no—but that would be a poor risk to take, he thought grimly. He still remembered all too clearly his father's warnings about the creature's volatile temperament.
"It's not you," she managed at last, with some effort. "It's Trevor. Oh, Scorpius—he's gone, and it's all my fault."
"What do you mean, gone?"
"We found him too late." Rose's expression had crumpled, her chest heaving from misery. "All those days I was searching and—I didn't try hard enough. He had crawled under a bush behind the greenhouse and—maybe he fell asleep by accident, and it started snowing. By the time Professor Longbottom found him…"
She couldn't finish, instead turning away from him to hide her anguish.
It was hell seeing her cry like this. Suddenly, what happened with Georgia a mere hour ago felt crassly insignificant… the matter bearing hardly any weight against the sight of Rose so thoroughly heartbroken.
Out of ideas, Scorpius opened his arms to her.
This gesture clearly offended the Hippogriff. Heckles raised and spine taut, its threatening stare narrowed in a snarl as it began to pace aggressively back and forth between him and Rose. But Scorpius paid no heed, his pale eyes fixed on her.
"I don't—" Rose hiccupped, her tears falling past her cheeks and sinking into her slip dress. "I don't need a hug."
"Of course you don't," Scorpius said, his voice low. "But I do, and I'm not going anywhere near that Hippogriff."
As though it understood him, the animal surged forward with a roar, wings spreading wide. Scorpius flinched, somewhat terrified, but held his ground, arms still stretched out. Rose gazed blearily at him, fresh tears brimming in the corners of her eyes. She looked utterly lost. Then, as though remembering where she was, she ran an imploring hand across the Hippogriff's back.
Miraculously, the frightening beast lost its menace at once, its regal bearing softening into that of an overly adored house cat. Scorpius watched, half-mesmerised, as the once irate Hippogriff raised its beak to her, seeking her gentle caress with a childlike sweetness that was completely missing a few moments before.
And then, Rose turned to Scorpius, crossing over the invisible line drawn by the Hippogriff's presence, stepping into his arms and beginning to cry in earnest.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice muffled into his robes as she fought to catch her breath between sobs.
"Because you did it for me," he said shortly, wrapping his arms tightly around her, as though doing so could contain her heartbreak. "Why do you cry so hard, silly imp? How precious was that toad?"
"Very," she said, her slight shoulders trembling. "Trevor used to visit us when we were kids."
"You mean Professor Longbottom visited you."
"Oh—Professor Longbottom came along with Trevor, of course." Her casual omission of the toad's owner made Scorpius smile, ever so slightly. "He'd sit still beside me and talk to me for hours—"
"He's a toad. Sitting still is literally the only thing he's good at."
"He was one of my first friends. I loved him." Rose closed her eyes as Scorpius ran his slender fingers through her rumpled hair, the slow movements soothing her. The sincere brokenness in the way she said the words put a strange jolt in Scorpius' chest. "Before I had Arnold The Third, Trevor was the one who helped me feel at home at Hogwarts. I—had trouble making friends for awhile, so..."
Their first year flashed behind Scorpius' eyes then… Almost-forgotten glimpses of Rose in class, often alone and excluded before Langdon decided to befriend her. At first, they had all thought her strange. Shrimpy, distracted little Rose, who was scrawnier than the other girls and flightier than all of them combined… who preferred the company of creatures to a conversation with her own peers. No, Scorpius had never bothered to look at her twice, even at that young age.
With some effort, he recalled Rose's name only coming up more often among the boys in their fourth year. Albus had been reasonably annoyed, but her impish prettiness had become undeniable, even to someone as disinterested as Scorpius. Time was kind to Rose. Over every summer, she grew more and more into her once-exaggerated features—the wide, cornflower blue eyes that were so startling on her small face adopting a daintier quality… and the cheekiness of her smile was soon made appealing by the romantic rosebud shape of her lips.
By then, of course, Rose had become too accustomed to the lack of attention. No wonder she never learnt how to deal with it.
Something about Rose, however, became clear to Scorpius in that moment.
Perhaps she was so accepting of others because they weren't necessarily so towards her, once upon a time.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. Though he was unsure if the apology was because of the toad's demise, or the fact that he, like the rest, had once thought her odd too. "Do you remember what I said about Trevor?"
Rose looked up at him, a distant melancholy in her gaze as she rested her cheek against his collarbone.
"He probably didn't want to be found. Maybe he knew it was time."
Rose nodded, rubbing away a stray tear with the back of her hand. "I know—it's just—when we were younger, my cousins and I had a theory that he had found the Philosopher's Stone. We thought that—maybe—he was going to live forever." She exhaled shakily, her voice cracking from emotion. "I was stupid to believe it."
Somehow the words hit close to home. "It's not stupid. Just… optimistic."
Rose rested her forehead into his front, a soft laugh stopping short in her chest. "You have such a way with words."
"He was lucky to be loved by you. That's more than most people get in a lifetime, I'll have you know." He studied the top of her snow-dotted hair, a finger coming up to trace her damp cheek. "Rose. If you aren't going to smile at me soon, I may end up making you cry some more."
"Is that a threat?"
"Just a warning. No one can make a girl cry like I can."
The corners of Rose's lips twitched then. With some effort, she offered him a smile. Finally. A wobbly one, but still something.
"There you are," he murmured.
The cold had finally gotten to her; she was starting to shiver. Her fingers had, in the last few minutes, unconsciously curled into the front of his robes to steal his body heat. This close to her, Scorpius was unable to resist leaning in further, running his lips past her freckled cheek to taste the icy salt left behind by her tears… the gesture leading to a tender kiss on her jawline. Rose's eyes fluttered at this unexpected intimacy, but before she could wonder about it, he had drawn her closer in his arms.
"I need to get you out of here. You're freezing." His voice had dropped low and hoarse against her ear. "How did you forget your cloak, imp?"
Rose had buried her nose into the centre of his chest, sinking into the delicious warmth of him. Against her, his tall, broad frame enveloped her like a blanket... It was probably wise for them to go inside, but she didn't want to move. This felt better than any warming spell on earth, she thought with a wistful little sigh. "I received the note about Trevor when I was in the dorms, and I—wasn't thinking much afterwards. I just wanted to get to the greenhouse as quickly as I could. Professor Longbottom couldn't bear to bury him, so…"
So she must have done so for him. The thought of Rose alone in the snow, tearfully burying a childhood friend, made his insides clench. Wordlessly, Scorpius' fingers found hers, clasping her trembling hand in his own.
"Come with me," he said.
"It's Greta," said Rose.
Upon entrance into his room, she had instantly glued herself to the long panel of darkened glass separating her from the Great Lake. Not that Scorpius expected any different, considering Rose. Now, her nose was pressed into the window as she strained to catch sight of the underwater creatures that roamed the black waters.
Usually, this particular window was Scorpius' only clue to the time of the day. The lake cast a ghastly greenish tint to the room in the daytime, transforming into an observation deck of strange water beasts. In the nighttime, it went completely black, with no indication of the life outside save for the few bumps on the glass. Finding out that the majority of the Slytherin dormitories were located underwater in his first year had been an irksome experience. Now, seven years on, Scorpius had gotten used to the strange groans and sighs of the lake beyond the glass. Some days in the summer, he even missed it.
On his end of the headboard, Scorpius had picked up the crystal decanter from the nightstand, its intricate diamond cut catching the low candlelight and turning the liquor within it a rich, full-toned amber. He glanced back at the tray—he only had one glass.
Well, it would have to do. It wasn't like he had guests over often.
"I've only met the Giant Squid a few times," Rose was saying, in wonder. Outside, there was a gentle tapping on the glass, a large tentacle coming briefly into sight before disappearing into the deep. "I can't believe you get to see her every day."
Scorpius turned his attention to her, an eyebrow raised. "You're telling me the Giant Squid is a lady named Greta?"
"Well, in my second year, I tried a bunch of names with her to see which one she responded to. Diana, Lizzy, Meredith—"
The characteristic weirdness of her response amused him. Scorpius filled the glass with a bit of brandy, then crossed the room to her side. She was still shaking from the cold; the Slytherin dormitories were hardly winter-friendly. "Drink this."
"Oh, thank you," Rose said politely. "But I don't—"
"You're blue in the face. Just a few sips to warm you up."
Rose looked doubtfully at the brandy, but accepted the glass.
It had been a split-second decision to bring Rose back to the dorms. While most of the school were congregated at the Great Hall for the Yule Ball, most of the youngsters between first and third year were spending their free time in the safety of the common rooms. When he had entered the dungeons with Rose's hand firmly in his, the kids had merely stared at them with poorly concealed excitement and disbelief. Just a sharp look from him, however, had ensured their starstruck gazes dropped right back to their laps.
Of course, Rose had barely noticed the attention the entire time they were headed here. She was far more enamoured by the fact that the Slytherin common room was tucked beneath the Great Lake. For the briefest of moments, Scorpius wondered if Rose would have made a nifty Slytherin. For one thing, he thought wryly, it seemed she would adore living here.
He reached for the heavy cloak at the end of his bed and draped it over her shoulders. The colour had returned to her cheeks, the brandy working its magic on her. She turned away from the window, biting down on a pink lip. "Scorpius."
"Hmm?" He moved to undo the front of his robes by the mirror, the damp hunter green fabric peeling away to reveal the pressed high-collared shirt underneath. Nothing to be done about the hair—the snow had completely undone it, the silver blond strands now haplessly tousled by his fingers.
"Were you—at the Ball? Because you looked…" Rose's voice faded, and her heat on her cheeks seemed to deepen. Catching sight of her somewhat shy expression from the mirror gave Scorpius pause.
"I wasn't," he said after a beat, resuming his undressing. "I was with Georgia."
Rose turned back to the window as he loosened his shirt cuffs and pulled on a cashmere jumper. "Oh. How—how did it go, then?"
"As well as you'd expect." Having rid himself of his shoes, Scorpius flopped onto his bed, looking up at Rose from this upside-down position. "I received a letter from my grandfather a few days ago. She was going to marry me for my inheritance. Because that's all I'm good for, apparently."
Rose frowned back at him. "What?"
"So I ended it with her. Really ended it. Bloody hell, I've never seen her so angry. And that's saying something, considering how much she despised me." He blinked up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, allowing himself to truly exhale for the first time in hours. "…Fuck, that felt good."
Rose sat down tentatively beside him, saying nothing. But Scorpius could detect a barely suppressed smile tugging in the corners of her lips.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," she said, looking down at her now-empty glass. "I'm just proud of you. That's all."
Their gazes met, that pretty, startling blue locked on clear slate grey. Scorpius shifted in his spot so he could see more of her. He wanted to see more of her. What was it about Rose, he thought with a bout of longing, that made him want to be better?
"Don't be," he said at last, his voice quiet. "Because I did consider it—marrying her. Just so I could make her miserable every damn day of her life, for all the shit she put me through. Even better, I'd inherit everything. I'd be able to empty out my grandfather's blood fortunes, and she would have been indebted to me for life. Two birds with one stone." He swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought. "It would have been the perfect revenge."
"But you chose not to." A moment of hesitation, and then her fingers had come to brush through his rumpled hair. The sensation was new to him, and Scorpius found his eyes fluttering shut at this tender gesture. "Revenge was the easy thing to do. You chose to do the difficult thing."
"And what's that?"
"To just walk away." Rose smiled down at him. "Sometimes the simplest answer is the best answer. Is it not?"
Scorpius chewed the inside of his cheek as he gazed thoughtfully up at her, considering her words for a long moment. Then he nodded towards her empty glass. "More?"
"Well… why not."
They settled on the carpet at the foot of the bed, sharing the glass of brandy. She had warmed up considerably, the cloak slipping off one shoulder as she leaned the other into his. She had drawn her knees to her chest even as he stretched out his legs before him, the soft heat of the brandy and quiet swishing of the lake making Scorpius feel somewhat drowsy. Rose had begun to hum a tune under her breath.
"Do you like The Well Well Wells?" she asked, passing him the glass. "I wish I could have seen them. Maybe just a peek into the Great Hall, if not for Trevor…"
"I don't listen to radio."
"Neither do I, but Hugo does. He hates that all I listen to is classical. But The Well Well Wells are alright. A little witch-rock and muggle-retro… Sweetheart, let's fall in love on tip-toes…" she hummed, as though she could hear the tune through the walls. She got to her feet then, dancing to the song in her head. "Da, da, da, fall in love…"
Scorpius snorted into his brandy as he watched her sway. "When did you get so cute?" he murmured, as Rose reached out to him with a dreamy smile, her fingers intertwining with his to pull him to his feet.
"Excuse you. I've always been cute. Sweetheart, let's fall asleep soft and slow…" Rose giggled as Scorpius rolled his eyes at the rather terrible lyrics. "Da, da, da, fall asleep…" She twirled herself under his arm, letting him catch her against him. "Don't you know this song, at least?"
He couldn't resist teasing her. "I don't recognise it. Maybe you should sing a little more?"
"So you don't listen to radio, but you listen to Debussy." She gestured at the shared record player in Tarquin's corner, where a number of classical records were strewn across the console. Debussy, Satie, Chopin… To Scorpius, playing and listening to classical music was beyond preferences at this point. It had simply become a compulsory facet of his existence, and Tarquin's. He could imagine how furious his grandmother would be if he returned in the summer and forgot what Mozart sounded like.
"Apparently so do you, imp," was all he said.
Rose returned his smile. "Not as much as I should. Debussy's quite the romantic, isn't he?"
She was in his arms again. How odd, he thought blearily. This was becoming a habit. His fingers came to brush her unruly red strands from her cheek. She felt precious in his hold… A small and delicate thing. Time slipped away from them, forgotten and unnoticed. Rose dancing slow to a soundless song, Scorpius unwilling to let her go.
"You're so drunk," he said softly, unable to help the fond smile stealing into his expression.
"Thank you for finding me," she murmured, the melancholy returning to her voice as she tucked her nose against the softness of his jumper. She breathed deeply, as though to keep from crying again. "I'd be—so lost, otherwise."
Somewhere across Hogwarts, the clock struck twelve. The Yule Ball was coming to an end, surely. Yet, neither Rose or Scorpius made a move, the rest of the world somehow forgotten.
Just a little while more, he told himself.