So sorry for the late update m'loves! I've been a bit sick this week so this chapter came really slow. That said, I really adored your reviews from last chapter. Thank you to baronnis, caitiecate01, knottedroses (I so love your insights and analysis!), TooManyShipsI'llSink, LilyJean630, HPDWTWD, cokoa, jacqueline, Meowmeow, Mme bookworm, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, catwomannnnnn1 (yes, I may add songs to the playlist in time!), JC (got your message on Tumblr love—here you go!), Violettsl, The Chirpy Bitch, Therona, Lizzy Chance, NotsoSugarQueen, B Vi, scorpiusrose, hpdude-4life, LillyMay77, SkiesOfStars, Connected-by-a-Semicolon, Maxi OT, crushHP and all the sweet guests/anons!
I've been getting lots of feedback about the subplots which really surprised me, but yes they will be ironed out as the story progresses. Hope you guys give me time to unfold everything (prayer emoji). Enjoy this one!
Chapter 18: The Invitation
There were a few things that flashed through Rose's mind in the first few seconds of this shocking discovery.
The first was to bogey hex Tarquin Zabini into the next bloody dimension with not a bat's chance in hell of returning.
The next was to shake some sense into Hugo. Had her darling brother lost his mind? Zabini—of all people?
The final—and most important bit—was to put a stop to this affair. Immediately.
In one reckless moment, torpedoed by an imploding whirlwind of panic and shock, Rose moved to yank the door open, poised to storm into the classroom and break them apart by magic or might—quite possibly both.
But her non-plan was unexpectedly foiled. A decisive hand had came from behind to clamp firmly over her mouth… stifling the protest forming at the tip of her tongue. Then, a strong arm circled firmly around her waist, lifting her up and dragging her backwards, away from the classroom door and into the safety of the hallways.
"Wmmf mmmpf!" But Rose's frantic cries were muffled into his palm now, even as she struggled and kicked out like a creature in the throes of capture. "Mmmph—"
"Shhh," Scorpius hissed against her ear. "They'll hear you."
Oh, right. Scorpius. Somehow, she had all but forgotten he was behind her the entire time, witnessing the whole thing. How in the blazes was he so calm about this? Did he know about Tarquin and Hugo? The thought only served to set her off once more, and Rose returned to wiggling for a dear life. This entire struggle was futile, however—Scorpius obviously had no problem hauling her away from the scene. There was a disturbing effortlessness to the way he'd simply picked her up and got on with it. As though she weighed nothing.
It was mildly insulting, really. Not to mention undignified.
Still, Rose flailed against him, desperate to get back on the ground again, only to have his arm tighten around her in warning. "Stay—still," he muttered.
"Mmfph!" protested Rose, throwing him a long-suffering glance over her shoulder.
Scorpius raised a challenging eyebrow at her, a flash of amusement flashing past his grey eyes.
It was only when they were sufficiently far enough from Tarquin and Hugo's rendezvous that he removed his palm. "Let me go!" she cried, but now Scorpius had both arms wound tight around her as her feet paddled helplessly in the air. Bloody hell, how was he so damn tall? "Scorpius—"
"Only if you calm down," he said evenly.
"I am calm!" she said, feeling rather the furthest thing from it.
"Calm enough not to run back and hex Tarquin?"
"Scorpius, at this rate I'd sooner hex you!"
"But you won't hex Tarquin. No bloats or slugs or… Zealous Zits, as you call them?"
Oh—this stubborn bugger. Seeing no way around it, Rose forced herself to still against him, finally allowing herself a moment to catch her breath. Then, trying not to sulk, she said, "Fine."
Her compliance seemed to please Scorpius. "Very good," he murmured, with the briefest of nuzzles against her ear.
And he set her down and released her.
Rose's knees were wobbly when her feet finally hit the floor, and she whirled around to face him, feeling dizzy and quite unable to hide her dismay. "Did you know about this?"
"No," Scorpius said. Despite his somewhat cool response, she could tell the revelation of Tarquin and Hugo was just as astounding to him as it was to her. "I'm assuming you didn't, either."
"Then how are you so… blasé about this? We should have ended it right there! Why did you stop me? You should have let me—"
"Rose." With a patient sigh, Scorpius' hands had come to rest on her shoulders with a gentle squeeze. "I'm not blasé about this—"
"Then why—?"
"What I do know is Tarquin has a right to his privacy. I can't just walk in and shit all over his affairs—we don't do that to each other. And I'm not going to start now."
"But that's my brother—"
"Tarquin's a brother to me, too." Scorpius pinched the spot between his eyebrows. "I'm not enjoying this any more than you are, if that's what you're thinking."
"No, Scorpius, you don't understand." There was a growing lump in Rose's throat now. "It's Hugo, he's the biggest bloody romantic in England. He… he reads poetry, for Merlin's sake. Oh, he can't… not with Zabini. This is a disaster." Rose lowered her head, burying her face in her hands. "He's fancied Tarquin forever. And Tarquin's—"
"Engaged, yes. Among other things."
Rose rubbed her eyes, trying to school her frantic thoughts. The fling with Vance was bad enough, but Tarquin was a whole other ball game. Rose was not the most observant of people, this was true—but even she could tell that Hugo had always kept a soft spot for Zabini. Through the years, he often spoke of Zabini with an innocent, wide-eyed zeal, peppering his observations with all the enthusiasm and humour of a tween boy coming to terms with a budding crush—
Rosie, look!—Zabini's in the Witch Weekly's Teen Bachelors list again…
You know, there's a common wisdom among us lads in Hogwarts—it's not gay if it's with Tarquin!
…Seriously, do you think Zabini's ever dated a redhead?
Though this silly bout of puppy love was something they'd all taken lightly. Due to the wizarding society's more conventional outlook, he was far shyer about his fascination with boys than girls. Perhaps, through the years, he'd felt a safety in admiring Tarquin from afar… Tarquin, who existed on a completely different social plane from his, one that concerned itself with violent Quidditch matches, obscure Pureblood traditions, and hard partying. None of which held any common ground with Hugo's keen and bookish nature.
Of course, Rose didn't fault her brother's boyish curiosity. She loved him dearly, and was unconditionally proud of him. But Hugo, for all his child-like bravado and charm, had never known scandal… nor had he ever been kept awake by untruths and whispers just for the simplest of missteps.
And Tarquin… was a wildcard in these sort of matters. Despite his elegant manners and rather lackadaisical outlook on dating and—apparently—his own engagement, the man was a complete mystery. Unlike Scorpius and Albus, both of whom had given in to their tempers and vulnerabilities from time to time, Tarquin carried himself with a steel-like aplomb… as though the refinement of his bearing had long vanquished the heart of him.
That, ultimately, disturbed Rose the most.
Oh, this was an unqualified trainwreck.
She was so caught up in her private fretting that she hadn't noticed Scorpius coming to rest against the wall, studying her conflicted expressions with some fascination. Then, he reached forward to take her hand in his.
"Come now," he said wryly, putting a stop to her racing thoughts. "Let's get you fed."
"I don't need to eat," said Rose, for the umpteenth time. "I don't even have an appetite."
Not that Scorpius heeded her the first time. Somehow, he had thought it a good idea to ferry her down into the vicinity of the Hufflepuff basements, past the portrait of fruits with a pear that needed a tickle, and into the chaotic huff and puff of the Hogwarts kitchens.
Dinner time was soon approaching, and the residing House-elves were frantically overrun with chores as they sought to prepare the upcoming feast. But Scorpius was completely undeterred by the surrounding bustle, instead settling them by a wooden bar in the corner of kitchen as though it was his right to be there.
"Scorpius, honestly, we don't need to bother them now," Rose whispered urgently, as Scorpius looked about for service. "They're busy, and—"
"Chocolate or strawberry?"
"What?"
"Chocolate or strawberry." Scorpius gazed intently at Rose, an expectant look on his face. "Which do you like?"
"Um. I don't have a preference, really. They're both delicious."
Scorpius nodded thoughtfully before glancing over the chaos of the kitchen. "Pitts! Come here."
Rose watched in amazement as a grumpy, rotund House-elf floated over, his ears twitching as he came to a stop before them. "Master Malfoy," he said, an edge in his pitchy voice. "What brings you here today? One hour before dinner time, may I add."
"Nothing," Rose blurted, the same time Scorpius said, "Cake."
"I don't want cake," Rose protested.
"I do." Scorpius turned back to Pitts, who was now pursing his thin lips as though he had eaten something rather sour. "I want two, actually. Chocolate, and strawberry."
It occurred to Rose then, that as uncomfortable as Scorpius was with creatures in general, he had no such reservations when it came to ordering about an House-elf. She nudged him hard, hoping to put a stop to the whole thing—only to have him tug her against him, his hand coming to rest on the small of her back… drawing her close even as she attempted to pull away. Rose frowned up at him; Scorpius looked back at her and tried not to smile.
Pitts merely stared as they played their silent game of push-and-pull, looking wildly unimpressed. Then, he uttered a long-suffering sigh and acquiesced to Scorpius' request.
"Cake it is," he droned, with a snap of his fingers. "Enjoy."
Then he left them to it, floating off to bark orders at the rest of the House-elves.
Unfortunately, for all her protests, the cake slices did look irresistible. Rose's mouth watered at just the sight of them sitting tall on their plates. She glanced at Scorpius as he put a fork through a strawberry. Surely he didn't order them just to distract her from the crisis of Tarquin and Hugo?
Because it was working. Just a little bit.
"Was it Al who told you about tickling the pear?" she asked, referring to the portrait that required a tickled pear to grant entrance into the Hogwarts kitchens. She had always known about it, of course, with parents like hers… even though it was a privilege she had never allowed herself to use. Like her mother, it made her uncomfortable to impose on House-elves, no matter how much they claimed to like the responsibility.
He glanced at her, surprised. "No. Lorraine did."
"Lorraine?" The only one that came to mind was Lorraine Bartley, who was two years their senior. She was a vivacious Chaser from the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and had long graduated. Another one of those svelte, amazonian beauties.
"Yeah, Bartley. You know—she played Chaser for Hufflepuff."
Right. So that Lorraine. Scorpius didn't say anymore about her, but Rose wasn't naïve enough to think they didn't have some sort of fling. Rose supposed, even to the older girls, Scorpius was quite a catch. Just looking at him now—that effortlessly tousled silver-blond hair and fine-boned, aristocratic profile, sharpened further by the steel of his gaze… she could imagine why they would fancy him.
"You really do have a type," she said distractedly, as Scorpius put a strawberry to her lips. No longer able to resist, Rose leaned in for a bite.
"I used to prefer a little height," he admitted with a shrug. "But now I find that I don't quite mind the short ones."
The way he said it made her cheeks go pink. Scorpius rested his cheek on his hand, watching her with the slightest of smiles. "You really should eat more."
"I eat more than enough. Lily can attest," Rose mumbled defiantly, accepting another bit of strawberry cake from his fork.
"Right. Then why are you so damn tiny? Pint-sized, really. I swear I could lift like, five of you, no problem—"
Oh, this just wasn't done. Why was he teasing her again? Rose reached out to pull at his ear. "Scorpius—stop making fun of me."
"I'm hardly making fun of you." He was laughing now, the now-familiar sound making her stomach take the smallest of tumbles. "It is true that you're short—"
"Not that short—"
"Light as a bloody feather—"
"Ohhhh, you should see me at Weasley dinners. I steal all of Albus' pie."
"Fuck, you're so cute." The way his voice lowered then made that cloying heat bloom all over her skin once more. Rose returned his pale gaze, the back of her hand coming to wipe the excess cream off her lips… only for him to catch her wrist. He was—too close again. Her breath hitched then; her heart loud in her ears. Surely he wasn't going to—kiss her?
Scorpius had leaned in, his handsome face tilted to an angle as his mouth pressed into the very corner of her lips, a gentle lick against the cream there that became an open-mouthed kiss on her skin… the sensation so sensual and sweet that she could feel her knees buckle, ever so slightly. Then, too soon—he had pulled away, his own breaths short, a rising colour in his cheeks. He seemed to be—fighting for control, somehow. Not that Rose blamed him, really. She was feeling quite flustered herself, without quite knowing why.
It wasn't like Scorpius had never done worse with her, she reasoned. He'd given her a love bite, for Merlin's sake.
Desperate to return to normalcy, Rose grabbed the fork from his hand and began to attack the chocolate cake with renewed vigour. Scorpius raised a startled eyebrow as she ate a mouthful, her eyes widening as she swallowed. "This is delicious."
"Yeah," he said, still in a bit of a daze as he stared at her.
She bit down on her bottom lip, setting down the fork as she fumbled for words to dispel the tension between them. "Scorpius, listen…" She looked up at him, trying to hide her nervousness. "Could you talk to Tarquin? Find out what's going on between him and Hugo?"
"Why don't you ask Hugo?"
"Because I know Hugo. Tarquin's the one who scares me."
"As he should. Your brother has odd taste in men, I must say." At Scorpius' words, Rose glanced up in alarm. "Tarquin's never been a good bet for a long-term relationship. Hell, Hugo would probably be better off if Tarquin didn't take a fancy to him."
"That makes no sense," she murmured.
"On the contrary, it makes all the sense in the world. I can't imagine the hell they'll have to suffer if they ever decide they like each other. Breaking an engagement, dealing with the Zabinis and the Notts—" Scorpius stopped himself. "It's complicated for Pureblood families. As you know."
"You should have let me stop them," Rose said quietly.
"No. We can't meddle, Rose. It's their choice. They have the right to make mistakes. And we don't know yet if it is a mistake. That's up to them, isn't it?"
These strangely wise words put a little smile on her face. Without noticing, she had leaned her shoulder into his arm, a twinge of fondness for him filling her chest.
"Does Tarquin like boys?" she asked cautiously, after a beat. "I never knew."
"Maybe. He did kiss me once." Scorpius' matter-of-fact statement almost gave Rose a whiplash. "But, you know—we were bloody five. Frankly… I always had the impression Tarquin would sleep with anything that moves. It's not like he was ever encouraged to be anything but straight. So…" He gave a half-shrug.
This new barrage of information was—a lot. Even so, it didn't allay Rose's fears about Zabini's character. There was no telling how he would pursue matters with Hugo, if he did at all. As she contemplated the direness of the situation, Scorpius had pushed the cakes aside, turning his focus back to her.
"Rose. I wanted to ask." There was a strange softness in his eyes. "Do you—have plans on Boxing Day?"
Rose was in the midst of licking a bit of chocolate cream off her thumb… belatedly aware of how Scorpius' pale eyes had followed the movement. She straightened and cleared her throat. "Oh. We usually sleep in on the twenty-sixth. It'll be chaos by noon, though, when my cousins come by for lunch."
"Right. Well." There was an uncharacteristic hesitation in Scorpius' tone that perked her interest. "I was wondering if you'd like to join us instead."
"Join your family?"
"Yeah."
"As in—me and Albus?"
"No." A slow, amused lilt was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Just you."
The flat of his palm had returned to the small of her back, a distracting heat rising under her jumper. Rose hoped she wasn't blushing again. When she didn't reply immediately, Scorpius added carefully, "I think my mother will like you."
"Scorpius, I…" Rose didn't know what to do with her hands, suddenly. Scorpius, on the other hand, wouldn't—stop touching her. She didn't mind, if only it didn't quite muddle her thoughts so. "They don't know we're for show, do they?"
"No, they don't." The reminder of their bargain put a most unreadable expression in Scorpius' gaze… something between resignation and wistfulness. For a moment, Rose was unsure if he had forgotten how they began in the first place. Even so, something in her compelled her lift a warm hand to his cheek. She didn't know how she was coming to do this for him so often now, but it always seemed to soothe him… It had become clear to her, at least, that she didn't like it when he was troubled. That was too reminiscent of his pains with Georgia. And he deserved more than that.
"I'd love to come," she said at last, even as the damned Flitterbys came alive in her centre. "But I don't want them to get the impression that—you're serious about me. Al's told me about your grandfather before. I don't want to get you in trouble."
"But that's the whole point," Scorpius said dryly, his voice low. "Maybe you'll be the final blow. With any luck, my grandfather will finally die of a heart attack."
She gasped quietly, a hand coming to her chest. "You want me to be accomplice to murder?"
"Who would suspect you?" he teased softly, thumbing fondly at her cheek. "Look at your pretty face."
Just being close to him again was confusing for Rose. There was an undeniable heat and sensuality about him that scared her… yet something about him gave her that wonderful, lulling sense of safety. As odd as it sounded—Scorpius always made her want to run. Whether towards or from him. In this moment, Rose chose to step towards him, her cheek resting on the familiar softness of his jumper. It was becoming comforting to her, the same way Buckbeak's cawing or Trevor's croaks always seemed to calm her nerves when she flunked a paper or made the headlines.
"I still have it," she said with a sheepish smile. "Your jumper."
"Keep it. I have too many." His arms had come to wrap around her, Rose's eyes fluttered shut as he ran his fingers through the unruly strands of her hair. Around them, the kitchen continued in a chaotic fashion, a cacophony of roaring stoves and banging pots and pans, yet none of it seemed to reach her in the private world of his arms.
Oh, she loved being close to him.
"I get it now, you know," Scorpius murmured.
Rose chanced a glance at him, willing her blush to fade.
"Why they won't leave you alone. Why bloody Hedge is so mad about you. You're so—damn kissable."
Rose's eyes fell to his lips… she was reminded, suddenly, of the first time they kissed in Hogsmeade. Oh, she thought with a start, realisation setting in—she had kissed him before. Why didn't she think to linger?
Would he have kissed her back, then?
If she could have known, at that point, the kind of person he was… the tenderness he possessed beneath his glacial exterior, the affectionate nature he kept from the world, until he could no longer hide it from her—
Perhaps—perhaps she wouldn't have minded kissing him more.
This new thought startled her, and burned hotly at the back of Rose's mind.
A kiss didn't mean anything.
But if it was with Scorpius, then…
She couldn't finish the thought, too distracted by the way Scorpius was now nuzzling the faded love bite, his breaths deliciously warm against her skin. There was something reckless about the way he was touching her, but once again, she sensed he was desperately holding back… His wandering hands now coming to clasp possessively at her hips. "Rose."
"Hmm?"
"When you come visit… wear something pretty."