Hey guys, so sorry for the wait! I've been working weekends which was pretty rough. This one's a little longer than usual so I hope it was worth it. My deepest thanks to my reviewers: Phaknight (I enjoyed your reading journey!), CuteSecretX, Najajikha, thisismimi, hpdude-4life, rohzatg, punkiy50, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, LillyMay77, scorpiusrose, Escapingthisworldwithfiction, LilyJean360, ChanceToBeImmortal, zizzic797, syranzra, Dani Prongs, HPDWTWD, jeanvon24601, catwomannnnnn1, Weasleyred91, Naumea (thank you, shy one!), and the many anons and guests who reviewed! I'm so thankful for you sticking with me. As always, do let me know your thoughts on this one.

Chapter 24: The Goodnight

They were treated to a bit of rare sun one midweek afternoon, which had a positive effect on the mood at Hogwarts. Spirits were high as everyone streamed out of classrooms; the hallways were teeming with students headed in different directions. From all sides, chatter and laughter were raised to impossible decibels.

The general cheeriness was disrupted by a dark cloud descending upon the hallways in the form of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. They were a tall, intimidating bunch; the crowd appeared to part as they swept past with broomsticks in hand, cutting swiftly through the packed hallways without missing a beat.

"Go, go, Hufflepuff!" jeered someone.

"Fuck off, pisshole," barked the vice captain, Harper-Flint. It was obvious she terrified the younger students—they more or less tripped over themselves to get out of her way.

The Slytherin team were on their way to their first Quidditch practice of the new year. Albus led the pack, already midway through his signature pre-practice critiques. The rest of the team followed him with stone-faced expressions—Harper-Flint, Warnog, Prowse, and Levantis.

Scorpius and Tarquin trailed after them. Neither of them were too eager to have their ears taken off by yet another one of Albus' elaborate briefings, primed to rile them up in the worst of ways. To manage this squad of moody prima donnas, Scorpius reflected with a grimace, one needed the thick skin of a mountain orc and the patience of a fucking saint.

Which was exactly why Albus made captain back in their fifth year.

He could put up with a lot of shit without strangling someone.

"No room for mistakes the rest of the season," Albus was booming from the front. "It's my final run, and I expect nothing less than the Cup. Gotta work on sharpening your throw today, Warnog. I was tempted to drop you after your ludicrous display against Ravenclaw in November. Almost cost us the damn game—"

"I'm the best bloody Chaser on the team!" Warnog shot back, furious at being singled out.

"Last I checked, I'm still the best Chaser on the team," Albus corrected with a mocking smile. "Stats don't lie, banshee. When caught in a poor position, a good Chaser passes the fucking Quaffle to her comrades. A greedy one, on the other hand, squanders possession and ends up shooting it out the park. Have you notched a single assist this season? You have all of today to figure out what teamwork means, or I'm dropping you for Overcliff—"

"I would have dropped Warnog a long time ago," Harper-Flint scoffed waspishly. "Her form's in literal poverty."

Warnog opened her mouth to retort, but Prowse had spoken over her. "Real talk, Celeste. You'd be nowhere near Potter's goal tally if we didn't assign you to penalties—"

Albus let out a low whistle. "Louder for the people at the back."

"Ugh, shut your horse mouth, Derrick!"

"Facts are facts, banshee—"

Scorpius rolled his eyes inwardly at the exchange. Not that Warnog's selfish behavior was new to any of them. Individual egotism was a legendary affliction to the team dynamic—it was far easier for a Slytherin to rack up personal stats than work as a unit. Most of them didn't get along, but their mutual vitriol packed a lethal punch on the pitch and they knew it.

"I'll miss this team of killjoys," Tarquin muttered beside him.

"I bloody well won't," said Scorpius. "If I ever end up on the same team with this bunch again, I'm quitting Quidditch."

"Was that what you told Crossley yesterday, then? That you're joining the Quidditch League?"

"Well, I told him it was one of many possible options. As you know, father wants me to help manage his estates, and mother's been badgering me to chair her causes. So—I'm still thinking about it." Scorpius gave Tarquin an speculative look. "What did you tell Crossley?"

"That I'm in talks to buy a farm." Tarquin smiled at Scorpius' unmoved expression. "What? Surely you don't doubt my abilities?"

"I'm sure the bullshit will make you feel right at home."

Tarquin tsked. "Cows are easier to deal with than Hippogriffs, I'll have you know."

This sudden reminder of Rose irritated Scorpius. Though school was back in full swing, they hadn't had a moment to talk beyond their shared classes. Langdon was in full NEWTs mode, and had all but usurped Rose into her many study groups. Of course their studies mattered, but Scorpius was beginning to feel quite antsy about not seeing her.

It wasn't exactly unreasonable for a bloke to demand time from his girlfriend.

Then, as though his thoughts had summoned them, Langdon and Rose suddenly appeared in the distance. They had turned the corner up ahead with their arms filled with books, barely skirting out of Albus' way as he berated Levantis for his poor Beating techniques.

Rose looked up, blinking when she caught sight of Scorpius.

And a warm smile lit up on her face.

But Scorpius could barely manage a hello before a group of chattering firsties bumbled between them, ferrying Langdon and Rose past the Slytherin team. Scorpius' gaze followed them over his shoulder, watching helplessly as Langdon dragged Rose away in the opposite direction.

And then they were lost again to the swell of the crowd.

Well. This was just fucking infuriating.

Up ahead, Albus continued to ramble on about a Feint he'd studied over the holidays, and how it was absolutely vital to his reputation that they be the first House to master it. But Scorpius suddenly cared very little about Quidditch, or the upcoming game with Hufflepuff, or the fact that Albus and Harper-Flint were now getting into a tactical row of sorts.

All he could think about was Rose's cornflower blue eyes when they locked gazes just a few moments ago.

Fuck. He had to see her again.

He wanted to see her again.

When the hell was he going to see her again?

Abruptly, Scorpius turned on his heel and broke away from the pack, leaving behind a wide-eyed Tarquin as he jostled back into the bustling crowd. Scorpius towered over most of these kids, but this junction of hallways was absolute chaos at this time of the day. He wove through gaggles of students, trying to ignore the high-pitched conversations and raucous laughter that peppered the air as he scanned the sea of bobbing heads for a spot of red.

Where the hell did Rose go? The Great Hall, or the courtyard? Perhaps towards the library—?

And suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the white noise.

"Sorry, sorry! Excuse me please—"

Scorpius felt his breath catch as he spotted Rose pushing against the traffic, apologising profusely as she knocked shoulders with an irate group of Ravenclaws hurrying towards the library. Langdon was nowhere to be seen.

Had Rose come back just for him, then?

He wasn't smiling.

Really, he wasn't.

Just like that, the distance had closed between them. Perhaps he had moved too quickly towards her, but he was feeling quite breathless all of a sudden. From the looks of Rose, now standing before him with her windswept hair and too-bright eyes, it was obvious she had been in a bit of a hurry herself.

"Hello again," Rose said in a rush, once he was within earshot. "Listen, um. Do you want to—"

"Yes." Did he sound too eager? Not that Scorpius cared anymore at this point. "Maybe later if—"

"Around nine—?"

"The West Bell Tower," he finished, his eyes never leaving hers.

Rose nodded vigorously, relief filling her expression as she hugged her books against her chest. "Right," she said, stepping back. "I'll see you then—"

Wait.

Without thinking, Scorpius found himself catching her arm. "Where are you headed, imp?"

Well, this was an unnecessary ask, to say the least. It was obvious she had come from the direction of the library. But if Rose thought this, she said nothing of it. Instead, there was a quirk in the corner of her lips, as though his rather uninspired question was worthy of her intrigue. "Oh. Poppy and I have a bit of research to do at the library. I've gotten some new information from Fabian about the taming of Grindylows, so…"

Over her shoulder, Langdon had materialised from the crowd, comprehension dawning on her face when she spotted them. Behind him, Scorpius could hear Albus' irate voice carrying through the hallway. "Where's our Seeker? Oy, Scorpius!"

"You should go," Rose said in an undertone, glancing back at Scorpius. "Talk later?"

"Don't be late," Scorpius said, tugging at a lock of her hair. The gentlest of warnings.

Rose's eyes crinkled back at him. "I'm never late." Then, as though reminded of something, she glanced down at her feet. "…Arnold, where'd you run off to?"

Scorpius watched her go, linking arms with Langdon as Arnold The Third perched itself on her shoulder. He lowered his head to hide his smile as he returned to his waiting team, ignoring Tarquin's knowing smirk as he rejoined them.

He would have Rose to himself later, he reminded himself.

For now. Quidditch.

Rose was late, of course.

Scorpius had arrived promptly after the ninth chime. Most students shunned the West Bell Tower, and for good reason. The bell rang every hour to signal the time, and could be deafening at close range. Between the hourly chimes, however, the tower offered one of the most private spots in Hogwarts.

The top of the tower was blissfully quiet, the air crisp and still. Over the threshold, the Great Lake glimmered like ink and silver, sipping at the edges of the sprawling woods.

In one swift movement, Scorpius had lifted himself onto the raised stone ledge that surrounded the bell chamber. He gazed out into the muted night scenery, studiously trying to ignore the insistent flutter at the bottom of his stomach.

When Rose had woven through the crowds to get to him that afternoon, he doubted that she had given much thought to their last-minute plan to meet. This setting reminded Scorpius of heady flings from the past, where he and a faceless chit would get up to a bit of covert mischief in the dark.

Knowing Rose, however, making out was quite possibly the last thing on her mind. Even if it was becoming the first thing on his.

In the silence of the evening, his thoughts drifted back to that eventful Boxing Day afternoon. Lucius, for all his theatrics, formed only the smallest of impressions that day. The moment he had Rose on his lap, everything his grandfather had railed about no longer held any weight.

For a girl who cared very little about her sex appeal, she still managed to turn up looking like innocence and seduction wrapped into an adorable velvet package… A fantasy he had never even known he had.

He had spent all afternoon fighting not to kiss her.

At least, until that gift made him want to rip off her dress.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the spiral stairwell then, interrupting his pleasant reverie… And Rose appeared, looking cosy and frazzled in a frayed oversized jumper and pajama pants. Almost instantly, Scorpius felt his mood lift.

Her charm had nothing to do with what she wore, he thought wryly. He understood that now.

"Hello," she called cheerfully. "You look comfy up there."

Arnold The Third had popped up by her side, baring its tiny teeth when it spotted Scorpius. Rose observed the momentary standoff between them with some amusement.

"Haven't you forgiven him yet?" she asked.

"Oh, I forgive," Scorpius said stiffly, eyeing the Pygmy Puff with poorly concealed disdain. "I just don't forget."

"Arnold likes you, I think."

"Is that why he's third-wheeling?"

"He won't hurt you, I promise. I've already given him a scolding for it." Rose crouched down to tickle Arnold's pink chin. "You'll be good, won't you, little one? Scorpius is our friend."

Arnold uttered a series of derisive squeaks before floating out of her hands.

Scorpius raised an expectant eyebrow at Rose and gestured to the spot beside him.

Rose shot him a doubtful look. When she reached him, she hesitated for a moment before attempting to hoist herself up the ledge. She was a bundle of energy, of course, but the ledge was a little higher than was comfortable for her. After a few attempts at joining Scorpius there—elbows briefly supporting her weight as she made to push herself up—Rose made a little noise of defeat and landed back on her feet.

Scorpius' mouth twitched as he looked away, trying to keep himself in check.

Really, he shouldn't mock her.

Though if she had been just a wee bit taller, perhaps—

"Well, I'll just be here then," Rose said, an indignant blush making her already pink face even redder. The too-casual way she was leaning against the brick almost blew Scorpius' forced composure. "I mean, I rather stand anyway."

Bloody hell, this girl.

Without a word, Scorpius deftly pushed himself off the ledge and landed beside her, placing his hands firmly on her waist to lift her up. Uttering a soft sound of surprise, Rose's arms circled around his neck for purchase. He set her down soundly on the ledge before him, his hands coming to rest warmly over her hips, her stuttered breaths in tandem with his own. Their eyes met, her startled blue gaze locked on his storm-grey eyes.

"Thanks," Rose managed. When he didn't let her go, she added, "Um, you can sit too, you know."

"I know. I just like being able to look you in the eye for once."

Rose's foot knocked reproachfully against his side, and this time Scorpius didn't bother to hide his laugh. Now that he was finally touching her again, he couldn't bear to take his hands off her. His palms had gone up the length of her back, slow and deliberate… as though memorising the fuzzy texture of her jumper beneath his skin.

"Why are you always with Langdon these days?" he asked in a lowered voice. "I couldn't even catch you after class."

"If you saw my homework scores," Rose said absently, her fingers brushing gently across his nape, "you'd be as freaked out as Poppy."

"You act like you've been scoring A's." When Rose didn't answer, Scorpius stared at her in disbelief. "…Are you?"

"I do need to work for my grades," Rose reminded him, a twinkle in her eye. "Acceptables aren't going to be enough for what I want to do. People think I get good grades because of who my mum is, but they sometimes forget I've also got a lot of my dad."

"Surely Mr Weasley scored better than Acceptables."

"He didn't even return for the NEWTs, I'll have you know." Rose grinned at the growing knot between Scorpius' eyebrows. "Hugo's the one who inherited my mum's brains. But I have trouble caring about most subjects…"

"I'm sure you're an Outstanding with beasts, at least."

"…so I do have to make some effort."

"I'll help you."

"You act like you've been scoring all O's," Rose countered. When Scorpius merely gave her a slow smile, her jaw dropped. "No way."

"Well, there was one year I scored an E for Potions, but that's because I set off a stink bomb in Crossley's workshop. I thought my father was going to have a fit. He banned me from watching the Harpies that summer."

"Brutal. I wouldn't have expected that from Mr Malfoy."

"The offer stands, imp. I'll tutor you."

"Thank you, but Poppy's got me covered."

"I'll take on half her load."

"You've already seen what a dunce I am with piano," Rose said solemnly. "Do you really need that kind of stress in your life?"

"I don't," Scorpius agreed wryly. "But how else am I supposed to see you?"

The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it. Rose was blinking back at him in surprise. Scorpius felt a damning heat prickle his cheeks, but he wasn't about to take back what he said.

He meant it.

"Well," Rose said, fumbling for the words, "you're seeing me now."

"Not often enough," Scorpius muttered, resting his forehead against her shoulder and trying not to sulk.

There was a note of mischief in her voice. "I suppose we do have to work on that."

"You know, I've been in your classes for six bloody years."

"Mmmhmm. Six and a half now."

"How have I never gotten to know you before?"

"It's probably a good thing," Rose said sensibly. "What if you didn't like me?"

"What if I did?" he shot back, lifting his head to look at her.

Rose bit back a smile, the way she liked to do whenever he got unreasonable with her. She tilted her head, considering that strange possibility, before reaching up to thumb lightly at his cheekbone. Almost out of habit, Scorpius leaned into her touch.

"To be fair, I never tried to know you either," she said after a long moment. "Back then, I didn't really know how to relate to people unless it was about creatures." She smiled, a thought occurring to her. "Maybe it's all Al's fault."

"Bloody likely."

"Should have badgered us into hanging out."

"Or at least tried to set us up."

Rose snorted. "Can you imagine the scenes? We would have been so mad at him. I'm not at all your type—"

"And I'm nowhere near as handsome as a Hippogriff, am I?" he quipped, making her laugh. She opened her mouth to answer as he smirked at her… but to his surprise, her words seemed to fade into thin air. Instead, she had fallen quiet, staring at him with the strangest puzzle in her eyes. As though she had just unraveled a secret about him without his knowledge. In return, Scorpius found his own smile slowly fading, his eyes helplessly fixed on her.

Ever so gently, as though she was afraid to disturb whatever it was that was blooming between them... she pulled away from him. Like mere distance could untangle the knot of longing that was keeping him drawn to her. Scorpius jerked out of his daydream then, catching her wrists to keep her where she was. Wordlessly, he had wrapped his arms around her, tugging her closer to the edge of her seat and flush against him.

For a heartbeat, neither of them dared to move… the sudden closeness striking a match beneath every part of them that was touching. His breath caught in his chest, his heart so loud that surely she could hear it skip a beat.

And then—Rose relented. He could feel her melt slowly into the warmth of him, as though her very bones had gone soft. The tension between them yielded ever so briefly when she turned her head to nuzzle shyly at his cheek, the innocence of the gesture making him smile.

He knew physical intimacy didn't come naturally to Rose. She didn't have to return his affections.

And yet.

His fingers had now gone and curled into her red hair, holding her firmly in place as his lips skimmed across the soap-sweet skin of her neck… dreamy, barely-there kisses that made her sigh. By now, the roar of his desire was so deafening in his ears that he could hardly think.

They'd barely even touched each other, and all he wanted was for Rose to be wrapped up around and under him. A thousand wicked thoughts were racing through his lust-addled brain and going straight for his cock.

He was gripping her jumper so tightly, he must have pulled the knit out of shape. Forcing himself to pull back, he tipped her chin up with his fingers, prompting Rose to open her bleary eyes to meet his.

"What did you like about Wilkins?" he asked softly.

"Jamie?" It took Rose a moment to comprehend his question. She looked as though she was trying to shake off a pleasant dream. Well, at least he wasn't the only one.

"You mentioned him to me before."

"Oh," she murmured. He could tell she still wasn't taking the subject seriously. "We talked about it, didn't we? It's not very interesting."

"It is to me."

At this, Rose shot him a perplexed half-smile, as though she couldn't fathom why he would want to know more about her lack of love life. Even so, she appeared to give it some thought.

"He was very patient with me," she said at last. "I was quite clueless then, so I rambled on a lot. God, I must have bored him. Not many people could put up with me."

"I put up with you," Scorpius muttered. Rose quirked an eyebrow at him, and Scorpius clamped his mouth shut.

"We could talk for hours," she continued. "He told me he liked creatures. So of course I thought we hit it off."

She's got no people skills, mate. She's bloody obsessed with animals. Wilkin's cruel words from Hogsmeade returned to Scorpius then, the memory leaving a foul taste in the back of his throat. "He certainly pretended to."

There was a sigh in her words. "I realised too late that boys usually like Fwoopers far less than they claim to."

"Just the wankers."

Rose cocked her head slightly at his derision. "Why are you asking about Jamie, Scorpius?" she asked carefully.

"I don't understand how you ever liked the twat."

"It doesn't matter. I don't anymore." She paused, watching him with a thoughtful expression. "Are you—jealous? Because we don't have to talk about this."

"I'm not jealous," he snapped. "And I do want to hear all about it."

His waspishness didn't seem to affect Rose. "Ah, did you know?" she said gravely, rubbing at her chin. "A wise man once told me it's perfectly alright to be jealous. Healthy, even—"

Scorpius jabbed her at the side, and she squeaked, bursting into a fit of giggles against him. The way she looked at him now, so open and fond, put the most tender of aches in his chest. Not for the first time, Scorpius felt a bone-deep yearning to ravish her pretty mouth.

Rose would allow it, certainly.

It was all too easy to seize the moment, but something inside of Scorpius warned him against it. Rose was not finished. As the laughter faded from her face, she had started to fidget, her breaths now coming short and uneven. It was obvious she had more to say, even if she was struggling to find the words. To her credit, she hadn't yet changed the subject, as she was wont to do when she got uncomfortable.

His patience was rewarded when Rose finally spoke a minute later.

"Do you remember," she said haltingly, "running into me one night during our fourth year?"

He did not. Scorpius lifted a questioning eyebrow, and Rose's fingertips came to rest delicately on his jawline, as though to assure him that it didn't matter.

"It's alright. I didn't even recall it until recently. It was—rather late when I ran into you... you were with Tarquin and Al. I wasn't looking where I was going, and…"

She was restless again, losing herself once more to some distant train of thought. He wasn't quite sure, either, if she even wanted to continue. Scorpius thumbed lightly at her chin, a gentle reminder that he was there with her. "Rose. Tell me what happened."

"I was running away," she admitted.

"Running—?"

"From Jamie." Rose lifted her gaze to meet Scorpius'. He couldn't understand why she looked so ashamed. "He was kissing me and I didn't want it. He wouldn't stop until I was going to hex him. It's stupid, thinking about it now—but I didn't know what to do. I was scared that I'd lose his friendship if…" She trailed off when she caught the stunned look on his face. "Scorpius."

But Scorpius was already putting the pieces together… recalling most clearly Rose's despondent face that afternoon at Hogsmeade in November, the sugar violet ice-cream dripping into the crevices of her fingers as she attempted to lift Scorpius' dour mood with a story of her own.

He was my first kiss—

Later on I realised that maybe I just didn't like to kiss at all.

The gravity of this knowledge had lifted a veil he didn't even realise was pulled over his eyes.

No wonder Rose Weasley didn't like to kiss.

No wonder Rose Weasley didn't give any importance to a kiss.

How could she, when her first had been so crudely taken from her?

When Scorpius finally found the words, his voice was thick with rage. "I'll kill him."

Rose's eyes widened, distress filling her expression. "Scorpius, no. Please just forget it." Her arms had tightened around his neck, her heated face now buried in his shoulder. As though she wanted to hide from everything she just said. "It's over now. He didn't know better."

Scorpius listened to her trembling breaths, trying not to keep his fury from spilling over. She didn't deserve his anger, even if Wilkins certainly did. He caught hold of her arms. "Rose. Look at me."

Rose raised her head from his shoulder, looking uncharacteristically lost. Scorpius reached out to trace her lush bottom lip with his thumb; her eyes fluttered shut briefly at the sensation, their noses almost brushing now.

"You didn't lose him," he said, his voice low and firm. "He lost you because he was a fucking pillock. You didn't owe him anything. You don't owe anyone anything. You know that, don't you?"

He hadn't yet noticed, but Rose's fingers had clutched into the front of his jumper. Like he was some sort of anchor, and she was going to float away if she didn't hold on tightly enough.

Then, unexpectedly—she leaned in to press a soft kiss on his cheek.

Scorpius swallowed the lump in his throat as she pulled away, the murderous anger in his chest ebbing ever so slightly, only to be replaced by something else more terrible… a violent mix of fury and adoration so intense that he could barely tamper it. He wanted to fucking flog Wilkins in front of the entire school, then lock Rose up in his arms in the same breath so no one else could ever touch her.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"What for?"

"For listening. For saying what you said. I—didn't know how to feel about it for a long time. I didn't know how to talk about it, either. When it happened, Poppy was the only one who…" Rose trailed off, the memory of it too unpleasant to return to.

His hands had come up to cradle her face, an urgent kiss pressed into her hair. "I'll make him regret it."

She looked scandalised at the prospect. "Scorpius."

"Fine. A hex, then. He'll survive a damn hex."

"If you so much as look at him, I'll never kiss you again."

"Are you threatening me, imp?"

"Maybe just a little," Rose deadpanned, the usual humour returning to her eyes. The familiar sight made Scorpius want to smile. "Don't get into trouble for him. It's not worth it."

He traced her cheek with the back of his fingers, his own expression growing serious.

"Do you hate it?" he asked in an undertone, his forehead coming to rest against hers. "Doing this with me?"

Rose lifted her gaze to meet his, genuinely startled by his question.

"No," she said. And the shy smile she gave him was everything.

They had barely made it out of the tower before the bell went off at ten o'clock. The deafening chimes followed them through the halls as they drifted between shadows and moonlight, staying close to the walls to steer clear of Filch or Prefects doing the rounds. Arnold The Third followed behind, punctuating each step with pitchy squeaks.

Scorpius shot the creature a death glare; Arnold merely tittered some more.

Idly, he wondered if Rose would be too disappointed if he requested Arnold be left behind for their next meeting.

They finally made it to the Gryffindor Tower, barely escaping detection from a pair of sleepy fifth-year Prefects on patrol. As they approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Rose turned to him, their fingers still warmly entwined, her sweet face illuminated by the floating candlelight. But before she could say goodnight, Scorpius had tugged her close.

The Fat Lady was fawning at the sight of them, her fan fluttering rapidly over her chest. Scorpius ignored her, wrapping his arms around Rose and keeping her there.

"Scorpius," she whispered, her hands coming up to his chest.

"Not yet."

"Prefects are about to return from their rounds."

"Mmmhmm."

"The portrait's going to open any minute—"

"Just a minute, imp. I promise." His fingers had come up to brush lightly through her hair. "Let me kiss you goodnight."

Rose's eyes widened slightly at his words; he didn't miss the subtle way she had stiffened against him. Had he—missed this about her before? Or had he always noticed, but simply dismissed it as unimportant? The possibility of his own selfishness made his heart heavy. Scorpius was beginning to understand now, despite the permission she gave him… how very little it took to scare her.

He had to be gentle.

He would learn to be. For her.

Scorpius brought a thumb to her cheek, the lightest of touches over her freckled skin that left a blush rising in its wake. He lowered his head as she raised her face to his… the tip of his nose nuzzling warmly against her temple as he breathed her in. She had smelled downright sinful to him all evening, that familiar lemon shampoo mixed with a fresh cream soap… sweetness and sex rolled into one. He couldn't get enough of her scent.

Exhaling quietly, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips trailing over her closed eyelids at leisure, tender kisses sweeping across the soft planes of her face like a caress. His smile pressed into her jawline as she finally let herself sink into his embrace, warm and pliant against him as her hands ran slowly up his back.

Fuck curfew. He didn't want to let her go.

All he wanted to do was bring her back to his bed and tuck her in beside him.

Without warning, the portrait swung open to reveal a pair of Gryffindor boys, who stopped short to gawk at the sight of Rose and Scorpius wrapped up in each other. Rose blinked against the light, finally finding it in herself to untangle gently from their embrace.

Well, he supposed one of them had to eventually.

"Goodnight," Rose said as she backed away, the colour high on her cheeks as she gave him a parting smile.

"Night," he managed, in a bit of a daze as he watched her climb into the portrait hole. The boys' wide eyes followed Rose into the common room before snapping back to Scorpius, their mouths still hanging open.

As though the sight of Scorpius Malfoy looking like a smitten fool was something to be terrified of.

"Well, if you're going to just stand there," said the Fat Lady.

The portrait swung back shut in their faces.

The Fat Lady winked at Scorpius as she giggled behind her fan. "My name is Dorothy, handsome," she said huskily. "But you can call me whatever you want."

Well, that was—unusual. Scorpius ran a hand through his tousled hair and shot her a bemused smile before leaving. He didn't hear her swooning behind him.

Despite the restraint he'd shown all evening, his mind was in an utter state of chaos. He felt completely wretched and out of control... not unlike that Boxing Day afternoon, when he'd almost lost himself with her by the fireplace. His blood was burning like a fever beneath his skin; he was seeing bloody stars. Why the hell did it feel like he and Rose had just taken a rough tumble in his bed?

When all he had done was hold her in the hallway.

This was fine, he assured himself, as he headed towards the Slytherin dungeons.

It was completely normal to be infatuated with your own girlfriend. Wasn't it?

As he passed through the Slytherin common room, people were glancing up at him and nudging each other. He'd been stared at his whole life, of course… but some of the younger ones were giggling now. Which wasn't something anyone dared to do around him, usually. Unless they had some sort of death wish.

Scorpius frowned. Did he have something on his face?

Then—those all too familiar high-pitched squeaks.

Alarmed, Scorpius spun around.

Arnold The bloody Third hovered mid-air with its gleaming eyes fixed on him, quivering like an ill-fated custard pudding.

Did the damn thing actually follow him back?

"The fuck," said Scorpius.