This chapter exploded, oh my god. It was meant to have another thousand words, but I'm pushing it to the next chapter. I'm actually worried now I can't keep this fic under 30 chapters tbh. We'll see :'D
Personal thank yous to Priyodorshini, knottedroses (you make such insightful observations!), Seraphina, ScoroseTrash98, Rae Ella, TooManyShipsI'llSink, KiaMinaya, mariafranca76, B Vi, Sora Loves Rain, ChanceToBeImmortal, bright places, The Chirpy Bitch, syranzra, Crystal Jupiter, Meowmeow, AMBERJANUS, isamartinez28, LillyMay77, rohzatg, Connected-by-a-Semicolon, Escapingthisworldwithfiction, LilyJean630, Shipslover, Isoldaa, hpdude-4life, BackToMack, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, catwomannnnnn1, 5ilverReader, LizzyChance, WeasleyRed91, and the wonderful guests/anons who left reviews! :) Enjoy this one.
Chapter 21: The Gift
Once the doors had closed behind them, leaving Scorpius behind with his father and grandparents, Rose's insides were instantly seized with worry. Surely he wouldn't be in too much trouble? And yet, Rose could not unsee the furious disgust written all over Lucius' face when Scorpius caught her hand as she moved to leave… The thought of him receiving the harshest of scoldings for the simple act of bringing her to lunch made Rose's heart drop to her stomach, a sensation akin to panic rising up her throat and making her eyes water.
Oh, this was such a bad idea. She should have said no to his invitation.
Maybe she should have invited Scorpius to The Burrow instead?
Even sitting through an interrogation with James would be more bearable.
"That… wasn't quite what I expected."
Rose glanced up, the apprehension in Astoria's words returning her to the present. She was looking at Rose with a heartfelt apology in her expression, her fine features contorted by an obvious distress.
"I feel terrible, Rose," Astoria continued quietly. "Lucius can be—antagonistic, at the best of times. But that was unseemly, even for him. He and Scorpius… they don't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, as you can probably guess. I hope you don't take offense to what happened."
"I understand, Mrs Malfoy," Rose said quickly, somehow keen to soothe Astoria's unease. "Please don't worry about me."
Astoria squeezed Rose's arm gratefully, shooting her a small smile. "What do you say we forget the tour? The main wing hardly bears a smidgen of us, anyway. Mostly for show, if you ask me. I'll take you to my quarters—we won't be bothered there."
This whole time, stuck in a loop of her troubled thoughts, Rose had barely noticed where she was. Now, as Astoria guided her with a gentle hand, she was slowly gaining an appreciation of her surroundings. Together, they passed through vast rooms with slow-moving renaissance frescoes spanning walls and ceilings, depicting glorified scenes from early wizarding history; walked alongside intricate sculptures crafted from black marble, each one gleaming as they basked in the mid-afternoon sunlight; and glimpsed sprawling gardens beneath the pearl blanket of winter through a series of tall palladian windows.
And yet, despite the visual opulence of the manor, the one thing Rose couldn't help but notice most was the stifling pin-drop silence that permeated every room… its presence so loud and glaring that it seemed to ring in her ears wherever she went.
It was the kind of thing that could make someone feel impossibly lonely.
The Malfoy Manor was nothing short of astounding—rich in heritage, and unsparing in beauty… and, as such, seemed to demand the same decorum of its inhabitants. Being here gave Rose a surprising bout of homesickness. She had lived happily in cramped and crowded spaces her whole life… constantly surrounded by the loud bustle and magical messes of moving people and things.
That was how she'd grown up.
But here—
This was how Scorpius lived his whole life.
They came from such—vastly different worlds.
The realisation brought a tender pang to Rose's heart.
They finally arrived in a radiant, sunlit room on one of the upper floors—Astoria's private quarters. Rose could tell right away that this was Astoria's comfort zone. The tension in her demeanor seemed to evaporate the moment she shut the ornate doors.
As they settled into the sofa, Rose took the time to admire the room they were in. Unlike most of the manor, there was an ease to the décor in Astoria's private quarters; it was certainly more contemporary in spirit than its counterparts. As Astoria poured tea for them both, she glanced up at Rose with a thoughtful smile.
"I can't help but notice, Rose," she said at length, as she passed Rose a teacup, "how unlike Scorpius' previous girlfriends you are."
There was nothing malicious about the way she said it, but Rose couldn't help the colour from filling her cheeks. "Yes, well," she said cheerfully, trying not to take the whole thing too seriously, "I've been told he's out of my league."
A knot formed between Astoria's brows. "That's not what I meant, my dear. And surely you don't believe that?"
Rose chuckled, setting down her teacup on its saucer with a clink. "I was joking, Mrs Malfoy."
Amusement flickered past Astoria's face. By now, her resemblance to Scorpius had become crystal clear to Rose. He might have inherited his father's handsome build and pale colouring, but it was his mother's elegant, fine features that surely accounted for the rest of him.
This observation made Rose smile, and endeared Astoria to her somehow.
"Well, it's funny in the sense that I've ever been told the same thing before I married Draco." Astoria paused, giving this some consideration. "And even after, come to think of it."
Rose's eyes widened in disbelief. "But you're so…" Beautiful. And not just physically, either. There was a lovely congeniality to Astoria—so contrary to her stoic appearance—that made her impossible to dislike.
Astoria merely smiled to herself and took a moment to refill their teacups.
"I must say it's to your advantage, Rose," she continued after a beat, "that your family name is in the Sacred Twenty-Eight."
"It's a nonsense list," Rose said, barely hiding her indignance. The Sacred Twenty-Eight was a list compiled by Cantankerus Nott a long time ago, of wizarding families he deemed to be the originators of magical bloodlines across England. Most Purebloods considered it the highest honour to be named in that list; families like the Weasleys, however, had always contended the point of the list in the first place, seeing it as yet another weapon to sow discord within the magical community.
"Be that as it may, this kind of thing means a lot to Lucius." Astoria hesitated for a moment, as though deciding whether or not to pursue the topic. "Our Pureblood heritage is the last thing he has to cling on to. If we no longer have that, then our reputation will have to rely on our deeds. And, as you know, Malfoys are hardly known for doing good."
"You are, Mrs Malfoy. You're on my mother's council."
"That hardly counts as a first step, my dear. Not even close to your parents' contributions to the magical world. But, for Scorpius' sake… and for his children… Draco and I must start somewhere." She looked seriously at Rose. "It matters nothing to my husband and me, of course—but for Lucius, having Scorpius marry a girl with her name on the Sacred Twenty-Eight is certainly a boon. Weasley or otherwise."
This turn in the conversation made Rose's heart sink. "Oh, Mrs Malfoy, please don't misunderstand. Scorpius and I—we're nowhere close to marriage. I don't want to mislead you."
"But you do like him, Rose?" There was a carefulness in Astoria's words now. "Because it seems to me that my son is exceedingly fond of you. He wouldn't have cared enough to defy Lucius otherwise."
Rose stared down at her teacup, a mortified heat rising up the back of her neck as she struggled to find the words. "I… I think I do, Mrs Malfoy. It's just... I've never had a boyfriend before. So—this is all very new to me."
"Well, then how is it I'm misunderstanding your relationship with Scorpius?" Noticing Rose's discomfort, Astoria had reached out to squeeze her hand. "He really did write wonderful things about you in his letters to me, you know."
"Did he… tell you about my Pygmy Puff?" Rose asked hopefully.
Astoria looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Among other things."
They were interrupted by the sound of poof by the fireplace; Quigs had reappeared. "My lady, lunch has concluded," he intoned, as Astoria hurried to her feet. "Young master Scorpius is asking for you."
"I'll go to him. One can only hope he has all his parts intact," Astoria murmured with a perturbed sigh. "Rose, dear—you must still be hungry. Quigs, can you send something up for her while she waits?"
And in a blink, both Astoria and Quigs were gone from the room.
Oh, that earl grey macaroon was something else.
Rose rested her cheek on her hand as she chewed, studying the beautiful tiers of tea cakes that had materialised on the coffee table. In light of everything that happened, she had almost forgotten how hungry she was.
She made a mental note to thank Quigs later.
Just before she could reach out for a miniature tart, the doors swung open… and Scorpius stormed in. Despite the scowl on his face and the thunder in his cloud-grey eyes, he looked like he'd just walked out of a daydream. Rose was at once reminded of the moment she had caught his eyes earlier that afternoon… and how unfair it all felt then, that she had made all the effort only to realise she could never match him. She'd been struck dumb by how impossibly handsome he looked in the deep charcoal of his impeccably tailored suit, paired effortlessly with a dark high-collar jumper. His chosen attire was undeniably influenced by the latest in Muggle fashion… a detail that didn't escape Rose.
He'd certainly dressed to infuriate Lucius, now that she thought about it.
At present, Scorpius' gaze landed on her as he came through the door and shut it quietly behind him. For some reason, this moment felt uncomfortably intimate—perhaps because it was the first time in the day they were fully alone. Ignoring the blush filling her cheeks, Rose got to her feet, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
"He hates me," was all she said.
"Yeah. He does." Yet Scorpius did not seem one bit affected by this verdict. Instead, he lingered by the doorway, his hand still resting absently on the doorknob as he regarded her… something unreadable in his expression.
After a moment of hesitation, he crossed the room. He stopped before her, a warm hand coming up to cradle her cheek. "Rose. Are you alright?"
"Yes. Of course." Rose blinked back at him, confused by this oddly misplaced concern. How could he be thinking of her when it was plain that the situation was far worse for him? "Scorpius, are you and your grandfather—"
Perhaps he saw the worry written all over her face, because Scorpius' eyes softened. "That was nothing out of the ordinary, really. He's hated me since I pissed all over his dark manuscripts when I was two." Despite everything, his familiar devil-may-care nonchalance made Rose want to smile. "I'm just sorry you had to sit through that."
"No, Scorpius… I'm sorry." A lump had formed in her throat as Scorpius absently brushed a stray hair from her cheek. "This whole thing was my fault."
A puzzled knot formed between his eyebrows. "What?"
"I shouldn't have forced you into this. If I'd known how much trouble it would cause with your grandfather, I wouldn't even—" Rose trailed off, suddenly too overcome to return his steady gaze. "I've been so naïve. I'd just assumed it'd be a good idea for us to date as long as it kept us out of the papers, but I didn't consider how your family would react. I honestly had no idea that…"
"I'm to be married off to some Pureblood bint?" Scorpius finished with a wry smile.
"Well—yes." Rose lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling deflated by the course of events. "Do you think… he'll be less upset with you if you told him that we're just together until graduation?"
"Rose. No." Scorpius heaved a quiet sigh, his hands coming to grasp her firmly by the arms. "He'd force me to cut all ties with you if he thought there was the slightest chance I wasn't playing for keeps. He knows how I love like a lunatic, so…" He tipped Rose's chin up so she would meet his eyes. "You don't have anything to do with what happened, imp. He's always thought my father married badly, so he's projected all his ridiculous hopes on me." With that, Scorpius had dropped onto the sofa, his head flopping back against the upholstery as he stretched his long legs out before him, resembling the laziest of house cats as he looked up at her. "Though I must say… if you feel that badly about it, you can make up for it by feeding me. I'm bloody starving."
Forcing herself out of her woeful spell, Rose gestured awkwardly at the tiers of tea cakes perched on the coffee table. "Your mum just sent those up—"
Scorpius gave the desserts a cursory glance before patting the spot beside him. "Come here."
Huh. There was something oddly—casual about his tone now. Considering they were talking about Lucius only a few seconds ago.
Cautiously, Rose stepped towards him. Perhaps she was overthinking it.
Just as she closed in on the sofa to take the seat beside him, Scorpius grabbed her by the arm and pulled her onto his lap. Rose squeaked as his arms circled her waist to lock her against him. "Scorpius, not here—" She couldn't help the note of panic in her voice. "What if your mum comes in?"
Scorpius' nose touched hers ever so briefly. "Don't. Care." He rested his chin on the tip of her shoulder, turning his attention back to the desserts on the coffee table. "I'll have that blueberry tart. If you don't mind."
Unbelievable, really. Was she his House-elf now? Rose huffed, crossing her arms and trying to ignore the way his hands were resting warmly on her hip. "Get it yourself."
Scorpius uttered a long-suffering sigh. "Merlin, what a terrible afternoon I just had. Couldn't have a bite of lunch because my grandfather threw a tantrum, and now a little imp won't even let me have a bite of dessert—"
"You," Rose said, pinching lightly at his cheeks as he yelped, almost toppling her from his lap, "are such a brat—"
"Blueberry," Scorpius implored, his pale eyes alight with mirth as he gazed up at her. "Please."
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. Scorpius merely stared back at her, looking quite like he was trying not to laugh. Finally, seeing no way out of it, she reached out for the miniature blueberry tart—the very one she had her eye on—and brought it to his lips. Obediently, Scorpius took it in his mouth, raising a playful eyebrow at her as he chewed.
Then, before Rose could lick the crumbs off her fingers, Scorpius had caught gently at her wrist, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss her fingertips. The sudden warmth of his mouth on her fingers put an all too familiar flutter in Rose's stomach.
She felt her breath catch as his hand clasped over hers… their fingers barely intertwined as he pressed the softest of kisses into her palm. A seriousness coloured his expression once more.
"Did he scare you?" he asked in an undertone, resting his cheek against their clasped hands. There was a strange melancholy in his question; as though he couldn't quite believe she stayed, after everything. Their eyes locked, and Rose found herself adjusting herself slightly in his lap as she regarded him, a gentle thumb coming up to stroke idly at his cheek.
"You know," she said conversationally, "Hagrid once brought me to see a hoard of Acromantulas in my third year."
Scorpius snorted softly then, but she knew he was listening.
"They're quite a sight, even for me. Lots of furry legs. Hagrid left me alone for a minute to talk to Bezelbog—they're good friends—and that's when a few other Acromantulas spotted me and thought I'd make a nice meal. Had me webbed up and everything. They were just arguing on how to split me for dinner when Hagrid finally found me and told them off. If you ask me, that whole experience was just a tad scarier than meeting your grandfather." She lowered her voice, as though sharing a secret. "At least he doesn't have pincers."
Scorpius blinked at her, startled—and then he'd thrown his head back and laughed. Rose was smiling when his gaze returned to meet hers, a crinkle in the corners of his eyes. "Strange girl," he murmured, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.
"I was more afraid for you," she admitted.
"I did get a hell of a scolding. But it was worth it." Scorpius rested his forehead on her shoulder, a sigh in his words. "For this."
That was—oddly sweet of him to say. Rose made a small sound as he drew her close, his nose now tucked into the crook of her neck… the ebbing fire crackling softly before them, providing a comforting lull in the sun-drenched silence. Rose worried her bottom lip as she rested her cheek against his hair.
"Your grandfather doesn't like your mother, does he?" she asked cautiously, hoping she wasn't prying too much.
"That's an understatement," Scorpius murmured, stealing a kiss from beneath her jawline. "They never wanted her for my father. The Greengrass family… they're social pariahs in our circles, because they didn't get on the wrong side of the war. But marrying my mother is the best thing that ever happened to my father. She—saved his life."
Curiosity got the better of Rose. "How?"
"For one thing, the war fucked my father up. My grandmother told me he was never the same after it ended… She was sure, at one point, that he wasn't even living. Just existing." Scorpius closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. "That is, until he met my mother. Being with her taught him how to live again. The only reason my grandparents allowed him to marry her is because they were afraid he'd return to his shell. Frankly, I don't think my father ever truly recovered. But at least he has us on his side now."
The Malfoy family lunch was now replaying in her mind with greater clarity… Lucius' callous barbs and unyielding demands; Draco's obvious distress when faced with conflict; Scorpius' stubborn defiance when Lucius lashed out at his parents. And the way he spoke up for her, when Lucius refused to acknowledge her at all. Of course.
That particular memory warmed her heart.
Scorpius was nuzzling the soft spot under her ear now, a hand running up her back as he held her. "Did you miss me?" he asked softly. "Tell me you missed me."
Somehow, it struck Rose then that Scorpius was perhaps in need of some sort of comfort after the events of the afternoon. There was—something about his clinginess that she found adorable. It felt as though she was dealing with a young, entitled aristocrat who wanted something quite specific… and was going about in circles to get it. Rose cleared her throat, pretending to consider his question as he gazed up expectantly at her.
"Maybe just a little," she conceded after a long moment.
"Just a little?" Scorpius arched an indignant eyebrow. "Now you're being the tease."
Rose bit back a playful smile. "Why? Did you miss me?"
"Not at all," he returned irritably, his arms drawing even tighter around her.
His childish petulance amused her to no end. As she tried not to laugh, Rose couldn't resist pressing the briefest of kisses on his forehead. It delighted her to see the wonderment flashing past his expression. As though he didn't quite expect that bit of affection from her… but reveled in it all the same.
If he liked it… perhaps she should do it more often.
"How was your Christmas?" she asked with a little smile, her arms coming to wrap around his neck.
"Spent it at a stranger's house, as you know."
She wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Giving flutters to the ladies as they waited to waltz with you?"
"Sassy today, aren't you?" Scorpius had leaned in, his voice dropping an octave as his forehead touched hers. "…They don't hold a candle to you, you know."
"What?"
"Whoever the hell my grandfather was going on about. I was only half-listening."
Somehow, this felt just as embarrassing as the conversation she had with Astoria earlier. "I'm sure they're all beautiful, Scorpius."
"And you look like a damn gift."
It wasn't what he said, but rather the way he said it, that gave Rose pause. There was something indecent in the way his eyes raked over her… an intensity that made a coiling heat pool in the bottom of her stomach. Perhaps it was something she would think about later, when she returned to the safety that was her fort of sheets—but at the moment, she had blinked back to reality, his words now a reminder of something else.
"I brought you something," she said.
"Whatever happened to our terms?" Scorpius said wryly. "No gifts, no dates, no PDA—"
Rose couldn't resist teasing him then. "Well, hey, if you want to stick to terms…"
He rolled his eyes back at her. "Hand it over, imp."
It took a few minutes for Rose to finally find his gift somewhere inside of her magical purse—she had a ton of childhood knick-knacks in there she'd never bothered to take out, including her rather excessive collection of Chocolate Frog cards. Scorpius took the gift from her, studying the crumpled wrapping of a dancing Sprite with raised eyebrows.
"If you're going to judge a gift by its cover, I'll happily take it back—"
Scorpius swatted off her hands, tearing apart the package as Rose waited awkwardly on his lap. Suddenly, she was hit by a bout of insecurity. All through Christmas, she hadn't thought very hard about what his reaction would be to a gift—only that she wanted very much to give him something. It occurred to her, then, that someone like Scorpius must be used to receiving beautiful things.
What if he hated the gift, or laughed?
What if—
Oh, it was too late. The wrapping had come off.
And Scorpius was now studying the knitted scarf in his hand… with something that resembled confusion written all over his face. He said nothing at first, instead unraveling the length of the scarf over Rose's lap as he felt for the texture of the wool beneath his fingers… his eyes fixed intently on the gift like he was looking for every possible flaw.
One minute passed. Perhaps two.
And still. Nothing.
Well. This was—mortifying. Rose opened her mouth to apologise, to perhaps give him the option of returning the scarf if he didn't like it… but then Scorpius finally spoke, his voice strangely hoarse.
"Rose. I didn't think to get you something."
"It's okay," Rose said quickly, just relieved he hadn't rejected the gift. "It's not—really that special anyway. Especially since you only wear cashmere."
He glanced reproachfully at her. "Hey. I don't wear just cashmere."
She giggled. And then, then… that impenetrable expression of his melted away into a tender smile. He tugged her close, his nose nuzzling sweetly against hers before his lips trailed warmly across her cheek. "Did you make this for me?"
Rose nodded, unable to help her enthusiasm. "It's not perfect, but I hope you don't mind. I'm still learning. See how it starts out wonky here… but looks so good on this end?" A fondness came over her face at the memory of knitting with Grandmum Granger. "…My grandmum saved the day, really. You'd be getting something quite hideous otherwise."
For a long moment, Scorpius' eyes searched her face… Then, without warning, he had deftly shifted her off his lap, pressing her down against the sofa cushions as he leaned over her, his tousled silver-blonde hair tickling her skin. So warm and so close. Rose blinked up at him, the sudden heat of his body over hers sending her heart into an overdrive.
"Imp."
"Hmm?"
"You were the only thing on my mind at lunch. You and your pretty shoulders."
How quaint it was. For time seemed to have slowed to a stop for Rose. There was a hypnotic quality in the way his pale eyes came to meet hers then. The moment between them now suspended like something out of a dream.
Rose's breath hitched when his mouth found the bare tip of her shoulder and lingered there, hot and wanting… then his wet, insistent kisses were sweeping across her collarbone, the tip of his tongue coming to flick playfully into the dip of her clavicle. The newness of this drew a soft gasp from her; the innocence of her reaction seemed to turn him on further. Against her skin, Scorpius made a delicious sound between a sigh and a moan, the gorgeous huskiness of his voice sending the most wicked of quivers right to her very centre.
"Fuck, you're all I thought about." His dream-like gaze met hers ever so briefly before his mouth was all over her skin again... the words muffled by his kisses. "All bloody Christmas."
And then—as though he could no longer resist—Scorpius was pressing a string of drugged kisses up her throat, the sheer pleasure of them making Rose wilt from the inside out. Her gentle fingers went through the strands of his silver-blond hair, as though to soothe him somehow... She could sense that wild, mysterious urgency about him again, in the way his hands fisted possessively into the velvet of her dress, as though he was a hair away from tugging it off and having his way with her.
Her hands came to cup his face… eyes fluttering shut as she pressed the softest of kisses into his jawline, painfully shy and sweet.
Perhaps on the verge of leaving another love bite, the bashful simplicity of her affection seemed to remind him of her inexperience. Scorpius' intense ministrations slowed to a shuddering stop… he went still against her for minutes, breathing deeply into her neck as he attempted to regain his composure.
Then, abruptly—and not without effort—he pushed away from her.
Rose pulled up the shoulder of her dress as she righted herself on the sofa, trying to catch her own breath. Scorpius was no longer beside her, instead pacing on the other side of the room as he sought a return to his senses. As though merely being near her would be too much. Without their notice, the air between them had grown heated and thick… none of it to do with the dying embers in the fireplace.
Despite the space Scorpius had put between them, his kisses marked her still, the reminder of his affections clinging damp on her skin. Rose tried desperately to centre herself, the blood still ringing in her ears. A persistent, tender flutter was blooming hot in the very core of her, the sensual pressure from Scorpius' body lingering on her own… and refusing to let her go.
This was happening more and more between them, she realised with a start. The playful innocence of their camaraderie overturning without warning… so quickly flipped into something carnal and frenetic.
What's happening to me? she thought, feeling dazed and flushed.
From the way Scorpius was looking, he was probably wondering the exact same thing.
After a few minutes, Scorpius returned to himself. He released a quiet breath, picking up the navy wool scarf she had made for him and thumbing gently at the fabric.
"Thank you," he said at length, a soft gravel in his tone. "No one's ever made something for me before."
Rose glanced up at him with a little smile, momentarily forgetting the tension between them. "Oh. You're welcome, Scorpius."
Scorpius contemplated her for a few moments, the colour still high on his cheekbones… then he seemed to come to his senses.
He stepped towards her, wordlessly offering his hand. Without hesitation, Rose took it.