First of all—I apologise for the super long hiatus! I unexpectedly moved to a whole new country so I had to deal with that. Anyway, let's try to get this story moving again :) Apologies for not being able to name each reviewer individually, but thank you so much to every single one of you for the reviews, crit and reminders to update. I am so touched by your encouragement and patience. You keep me coming back and I can't thank you enough! This is a transition chapter of sorts, and I've already got the next one half-done so we'll be able to keep going! Without further ado…
Chapter 25: The Crush
Whatever it was that was going on between Scorpius and Rose, Albus certainly never pictured it leading to this.
It all began a few minutes ago, while he was in the throes of a dream every hormonal young man would deem most delightful—one that spoke of an incandescent mergirl, complete with milk-warm skin and eyelashes lined with drops of pearl…
Only for the fantasy to be rudely interrupted by Yaxley yowling from the shared bathroom like a gremlin in heat. His panicked screams were punctuated by the sounds of bare feet slip-sliding across wet tiles, followed by the unmistakable snaps and cracks of hexes being hurtled about in a too-small space. And before Albus could set aside the pleasant reveries of his fair-haired mercreature, something pink—and disturbingly familiar—bounced past the tip of his nose and crashed-landed into Tarquin's oak console across the room.
From there, Albus found himself transported back into reality, dazedly observing the family pet shredding a stack of vintage classical records in an aggravated tizzy.
Speechless and befuddled, he could only stare blearily the tatters on the floor.
Yaxley chose this moment to burst out of the bathroom, red in the face and naked as the day he was born. "What in Salazar's good name," he half-shrieked, brandishing his wand in every direction, "is that abomination?"
As surprising as Arnold The Third's appearance was on this chilly morning, few things were more harrowing than Yaxley's bits freely swinging about. Across from Albus, Tarquin was stirring under his duvet, blinking half-awake to the sight of his records torn up and strewn across the Turkish carpet like confetti.
"Arnold just killed Mozart," Albus informed him without preamble.
Tarquin eyed Albus in sleepy confusion as the information sank in. "Who's Arnold?" Then, with a slow, dreamy smile—"What have I done to deserve this?"
And he was out like a light once more.
"But what is it?" Yaxley interjected shrilly. "It tried to bloody attack me in the bathroom! Came right at me in the shower and almost took my cock off!"
"Darius, mate," Albus cut in drily, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes, "he'll probably try again if you don't put it away."
Yaxley shot Albus a withering look.
Albus turned his attention back to Arnold The Third.
Just what the heck was Rose's beloved pet doing in the Slytherin dormitories, anyway?
Before he could ponder any further, Scorpius entered the room with his broomstick, looking windswept and far too awake for this time of the day. It was certainly an unexpected trait from someone as naturally grouchy as Scorpius—that he was something of an early riser. He liked to steal a round on his broom at sunrise, however ungodly those hours were.
At present, he halted by the door, just as taken aback as the rest of them by the sight of Arnold The Third moving to sit himself soundly on Quirke's sleeping face.
"It's going to suffocate Ezra," Yaxley hissed, looking on the verge of a fit. "That's fucking it, I'm reporting this to Crossley. We're going to have to activate pest control—"
"He's not a pest," Albus and Scorpius said at the same time.
"Look, it might be one of those dratted vermin fuckers that multiply and infect," Yaxley snapped. "At the very least, it's a cock-eating furry and I demand we rid of it at once—"
"No can do," Albus said, trying not to laugh at Yaxley's hysteria. "He's Rosie's, and you know how she'll be if one of her creatures comes to any harm—"
"This little beast belongs to Weasley? Well, doesn't that just explain everything." Yaxley turned an accusing gaze to Scorpius. "Just because you're dating the Hippogriff Whisperer doesn't give you free rein to turn our room into a zoo!"
Albus felt his heckles raised at this slight against Rose, but Scorpius had already beat him to it.
"You know what, Yaxley," his friend returned in a deceptively silken tone, as though none of this quite bothered him, "If you're not going to shut your flap, I'm more than happy to let this dick-eating furball propogate all over the dormitories. Turn it into a proper fucking zoo."
Yaxley's mouth fell open in outrage.
"And do us all a favour and put on some clothes," Scorpius added, his sardonic smile making the the other boy flinch. "As far as I know, they have teeth."
Yaxley paled and retreated hastily into the showers.
In two lengthy strides, Scorpius had crossed the room and procured one of his jumpers from the cupboard. To Albus' amazement, Arnold The Third fluffed up at the sight of the cashmere.
"Have at it, you little tosser," Scorpius said grimly, as Arnold sprang forward and caught the jumper mid-air. With a squeaky sigh, he landed into the pillows on Scorpius' bed and nestled himself deeper into the fabric, fairly quivering with contentment.
Well, that certainly was—something. Albus raised a slow, questioning eyebrow. While Scorpius' friendship with Rose had certainly improved his moods, to say the least… he had no idea that her temperamental Pygmy Puff taken a shine to Scorpius, too.
How very… curious.
Scorpius met Albus' inquiring gaze. "What?"
"Arnold The Third hasn't even warmed up to me, I'll have you know. And I've been around Pygmies for years." Albus stared as Arnold The Third puddled into Scorpius' pillow. "How the hell did you win him over?"
"I'm not sure how I feel about you asking me for animal advice," Scorpius said wryly, picking up his letters from the nightstand. "But if you must know, Pygmy Puffs apparently have expensive taste. That's the second jumper he's chewed out since last night."
"Huh. I don't wear cashmere."
"Maybe that's why they don't like you." Scorpius grinned smugly at Albus, who merely gave his friend a sour look.
"Listen, I have better things to do than bond with entitled Pygmy Puffs. How'd he follow you back here anyway? Rose asked to meet you last night?"
He didn't miss the way Scorpius paused, ever so briefly, before continuing through his letters. When he didn't reply immediately, Albus added, "It hasn't been too much of a chore, has it? Good thing you two only have to deal with this for a few more months."
Scorpius glanced sharply back at him. Albus returned his stare, refusing to flinch. Unlike Yaxley, he wasn't afraid of provoking Scorpius' bad temper, as unpredictable as it was. Well, most of the time, anyway. Though Albus wasn't sure what Scorpius' lack of response was supposed to mean, either. There was a frown marring his usually glacial features, but that didn't seem particularly out-of-character for Scorpius.
A few seconds ticked by.
Silence was a bitch. Albus tried again.
"The bargain you two had?" he prompted with a lowered voice, gesticulating into the air to make his point. "From before Christmas? About you breaking up with—"
"I know, Albus. I was there." Scorpius leaned back against the headboard, his silvery gaze now stubbornly trained on parchment. As though he found all this talk of Rose thoroughly dull.
Which was rich, really. Considering how he literally walked out on Albus' Quidditch critique just the day before to fraternise with Rose in the middle of the hallway.
"Er… alright." Albus rubbed absently at his stubbled jawline. Scorpius had the inconvenient tendency of stonewalling when it came to certain personal affairs, but Rose wasn't exactly a private subject, considering Albus and Tarquin's knowledge of the matter. Not to mention the fact that she was his cousin. From what little he saw of them, Rose's sweet temperament was good for Scorpius.
And, truth be told… Albus did want Scorpius and Rose to be friends. Despite his cousin's initial reservations about Scorpius, she seemed to have warmed up to him considerably. It was hard to deny that Rose's presence made Scorpius… better. No less peevish, that was for sure. But certainly there was an absence of the self-loathing that clung to him when he was all hung up on Plumes. In return, Albus observed a new kind of steel in Rose's dealings with her most persistent suitors. She seemed to revel in the freedom that came with Scorpius' dangerous reputation.
It wasn't a stretch to say that their staged affair was a win-win for everyone, really.
All that aside, Albus knew Scorpius—possibly just as well as Tarquin did—and he could sense his friend was treading cautiously with him for some reason. As though there were one or two things he was intent on keeping from Albus.
This made Albus just that tiny bit uncomfortable.
But if Scorpius wasn't ready to talk…
He cleared his throat, trying to find another way to prod the subject. "You know, she seems to like you quite a bit."
Scorpius didn't deign to look up from his letters. "Does she?"
"Yeah. Makes me think we could've hung out long ago. Dunno if you noticed, but she's quite the outdoorsy sort. Hardly stays in once the sun's out. Back in the day she used to sneak out to Merlin-knows-where—forests, rivers, the bloody bush, you name it—and get sunburnt to crisp. Drove Aunt Hermione mad."
The barest of smiles quirked into the corner of Scorpius' mouth. But he said nothing.
"Now that you're actually friends, we could do something after the NEWTs," Albus went on brightly, warming up to the idea. "We can take her to a Quidditch game or join her on one of her hikes. She'll love your summer homes, I reckon. Though you'll have to hear her go on about the local species throughout her stay—"
Scorpius' reply was unexpectedly curt. "No."
Albus blinked at his friend. "No?"
Scorpius heaved a sigh that could not be mistaken for anything but annoyance. "No."
"No… what?"
"No, I don't want to be friends with her."
Now that revelation threw Albus for a loop. "I thought you two got along swimmingly. It's not the creature habit, is it?"
"Will it really bother you," Scorpius cut in blandly, setting down his letters, "if she and I decided not to be friends? It's not like it ever occurred to you to introduce us in the first place."
"No bloody offence, Scor, but you've been in her classes as long as I have. Why didn't you introduce yourself to her?"
"You introduced me to Hugo," Scorpius pointed out. Beside him, Arnold squeaked in agreement.
"The cuter redhead, if you ask me," came Tarquin's half-mumble from under the covers, before he resumed snoring.
"And Roxanne," Scorpius went on, ignoring Tarquin. "And Molly. Even Dominique, and isn't she your least favourite cousin—"
"Ugh—you know what, fine. Don't be friends with Rosie. You two have nothing in common anyway." Albus ambled sulkily out of bed before pausing by the door of the shared bathroom. Oh hell, he'll make a last-ditch effort to puzzle out Scorpius' indifference. "You'd tell me, wouldn't you. If there was… something to tell."
Scorpius arched an irritated eyebrow.
Albus got the hint and disappeared into the bathroom.
Despite Scorpius' casual dismissal of the conversation, Albus couldn't shake off the feeling that Scorpius was not being entirely truthful about his feelings. In fact, it wasn't what he said about not wanting to be friends with Rose that disturbed Albus.
No, the mystery was in everything he didn't say.
Even so, he wouldn't press his friend any further.
Time would tell if Scorpius wouldn't.
Albus gave up and hit the showers.
Rose wasn't the sort to lose things. Usually.
Which was why having two precious things go missing in one morning was a lot for her to handle. It was quite possibly the most stressful thing to happen this year.
And, considering the year had just begun, this was hardly a good sign.
Once the bell signaled the end of Divination class, Rose shot out of her seat and dashed for the door. Never mind almost knocking over crystal balls and half-filled tea cups on her way out.
It had been a hectic day on all accounts. Rose had spent most of her morning fretting about a missing letter from Fabian Fawley, only to realise between classes that Arnold The Third was nowhere to be found. Her darling pet had a tendency to seek warm places when it got cold, so she had thought nothing of it when she didn't see him in the morning; she had merely assumed he was nesting somewhere in her book bag, in the pockets of her robes, or under one of Poppy's cable knit jumpers.
By lunchtime, though, it had become clear that Arnold was missing. The matter brought up unwelcome feelings from Trevor's disappearance, and made Rose more anxious than she normally would be.
Not to mention the letter from Fawley that she hadn't had a chance to read. Her owl Francis had dropped it off right before her meeting with Scorpius, and Rose had been so sure she'd left it on her bedside table. She hadn't noticed anything amiss after she'd returned from the West Tower.
Which made it all the more baffling that the letter had all but disappeared. Rose had perused Fawley's older letters in her investigations that week, and had been eager to delve into the newest insights from his fieldwork.
As Rose hurried down the corridors, she wondered if Fabian would mind terribly if she wrote back and asked him to regurgitate the essay he sent her.
It would just seem awfully irresponsible of her, considering the content…
But if she didn't lose the letter, who could possibly have taken it? Perhaps she didn't place it on her bedside table as she thought, but dropped it by accident on her way back from the library?
Rose uttered an inward groan at the thought.
She moved through the bustle of roving students, finally spotting Poppy in the distance. Her friend had a free period during Divination, and had volunteered to look out for Arnold.
Hopefully Poppy was having more luck than she was.
It was surprising to Rose when Albus, too, came into view. Her cousin was already decked in his Quidditch kit, obviously on his way to pitch… and Merlin help anyone who tried to get between him and a Quaffle. With obvious reluctance, Albus had slowed in his step to listen to the Head Girl, a mild confusion marring his usually carefree countenance as she spoke.
One could only hope they were finally having a civil moment of sorts.
Though Rose should know better by now, really.
"Just how hard could it possibly be to just pick up a Pygmy Puff—"
"It's not as easy as you make it sound, Langdon. I like Arnold as much as the next person, but he has teeth—"
"I know Arnold, and he wouldn't hurt a fly—"
"I'll have you know he almost took Yaxley's bits off this morning." Albus crossed his arms, giving Poppy a pointed stare. "You can't blame a man for taking precautions."
The sceptism was obvious on Poppy's face. "Are you having me on?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" Albus shot back peevishly. He glanced away from her, registering Rose's appearance with some relief. "Nice of you to join us, Rosie. Tell your friend to quit stalking me."
"This was barely a conversation," Poppy corrected flatly.
"Purse your lips again and they might just disappear permanently, Langdon."
Rose glanced anxiously between Poppy and Albus, hoping the matter wasn't about to cause yet another blowout between them. "So, um—you both know where Arnold is?"
"The Slytherin dormitories," Poppy said with a grimace. "I figured if he wasn't with you or me, then he had to be with Malfoy. Potter has seen him, but refuses to be of any help—"
"I told you, Arnold almost chewed off Yaxley's bloody coc—"
"Would it be too much trouble to bring him back to me, Al?" Rose cut in hurriedly, not wanting Albus and Poppy to suffer yet another quarrel.
"Rosie," Albus said kindly, "I would literally rather die. Besides, the one you should be talking to is Scorpius. Arnold's taken to him, apparently."
"What?" Rose and Poppy said in unison.
"So Pygmy Puffs have a thing for men in cashmere. Who knew?"
This unexpected tidbit brought an abrupt lift to Rose's spirits. Was it possible that her pet had followed Scorpius back to the dorms? She'd always suspected Arnold's prickly behavior towards Scorpius was due to some sort of wayward affection… Pygmy Puffs were not known to express themselves very well.
How fascinating. Perhaps Scorpius would have more insight. "Where's Scorpius?"
"Library. He's trying to get some studying in before Quidditch practice. I, on the other hand, am completely dedicated to winning the cup."
Poppy looked like she was summoning all her power to keep from rolling her eyes. "We're leaving."
"Lost your manners, Miss Uppity? Did you a favour and I don't even get a goodbye?"
"Of course you do, it's my favourite thing to say to you. Goodbye."
"Bye, Albus," Rose said emphatically, force-steering Poppy away from her cousin before he could get another word in.
"Well, at least we know Arnold's safe," Poppy said with a sigh of relief, as they walked through the sunlit hallways. "Did you find Fawley's letter?"
"No," Rose said, feeling rather glum at the reminder. "Maybe Suzy or Teagan took it by mistake." As well-meaning as their dorm mates were, they had never been a particularly tidy bunch. Apart from Poppy, who was organised to a fault, it was common for the rest of them to find their socks and jumpers tangled up among each other's things.
Poppy said nothing as they strolled, finally slowing to a stop by the courtyard. She turned to face Rose then, concern glancing past her face. "I was thinking, Rosie. Maybe it's for the best."
"What is?"
"Losing Fawley's letter."
Rose turned to her friend in surprise. "What do you mean, Poppy?"
"I mean I don't trust him." Poppy hugged her books closer to her chest, a faint colour staining her cheeks. "Just—he's asked so much of you over the past few months. What makes you think he isn't taking your work and passing it off as his own?"
Well, this was unexpected. Poppy had a deeply considerate nature, and rarely expressed her opinion unless she deemed it necessary… which made Rose treasure her friend's take on, well, almost everything. But to suspect Fabian Fawley this way, especially since she knew of their contact over the past year…
It threw Rose for a loop, to say the least.
"I never knew you felt that way," she said, choosing her words with care. "But, Poppy, you know how much I'm learning from him. He knows far more about creatures than I do. He's out in the circuit and has his ear on everything… If he wants me to have a stab at his theories, I'm certainly not going to say no." She studied Poppy's downcast expression, an odd feeling stirring in her gut. "Unless you know something that I don't?"
"No." Poppy gave her a wan smile, her pale blue eyes wandering back to her feet. "Not at all, Rosie. I was just concerned. That's all."
Rose bit her lip, wondering if Poppy's worries held any water. Throughout their correspondence, Fawley had been nothing but generous with his own knowledge and research. Even in the brief time they knew each other when he was still at Hogwarts, Fabian had always been a delight to talk to. He was witty and clever—and, true to the qualities of his house, possessed the ambition to match. Rose might know her animals like the back of her hand, but Fabian's expertise went further than that. He fully embraced the politics that came with acquiring knowledge in their field, and had a knack for navigating academic bureaucracy with startling finesse. Thanks to him, magizoologists were being granted new permissions to explore untapped pastures.
The wizarding world could soon be introduced to a whole new plethora of magical beasts. And Rose wanted more than anything to be in the thick of it when it happened.
"He's asked me to partner him, you know," she admitted haltingly. "After graduation, that is. Do you… do you think it's a bad idea, Poppy?"
"Did he?" Poppy linked arms with Rose, resuming their stroll across the courtyard. "Well. Does it really matter what I think, when it sounds like you're going to say yes?"
"Of course it matters to me what you think, Poppy. But—I've been considering it. I'll just need to apply for a license after the NEWTs. If it all goes to plan, I could be off to discover a new breed of oompa-loompas by the end of summer."
"Sounds plausible, knowing you," Poppy murmured, squeezing Rose's arm. "You know I'm just looking out for you, don't you? If you think Fawley has good intentions, then…"
"You have nothing to worry about," Rose said, giving her friend a reassuring smile. "I know Fabian—he'd sooner disappear into the sands of Egypt to document a Sphinx than take advantage of a witch failing Herbology."
"It may still be wiser to take his words with a pinch of salt. I'm sure he has a vivid imagination." But before Rose could puzzle out the meaning of those words, Poppy had moved on. "We should go through the room again then. I'm sure we'll find your letter somewhere."
"Maybe I really did misplace it before meeting Scorpius last night," Rose said, sighing under her breath.
"Can you believe what Potter said, though? That Arnold has taken to Malfoy, of all people?"
Rose took a moment to consider this. "Maybe it's his cologne?"
"His—cologne?"
"Yes, his cologne. Maybe Arnold likes it because it's... comforting."
Poppy merely stared at her friend. "Comforting, you say?"
"Yeah." Rose cleared her throat and shot Poppy a nervous glance, as though she wasn't quite sure whether to pursue the topic… only to plunge ahead anyway. "It's—sharp and crisp. Like a pine forest after a fresh bout of snow. But it's got warmth to it, too… like the candles my mum used to collect. Sandalwood and cedar…"
A smile tugged at the corners of Poppy's mouth. "You're making me want to give Malfoy a sniff."
"You should," Rose agreed absently. Then, lost to her thoughts once more—"I wonder what's in his aftershave?"
Fascinating. For Rose to go on at length about a boy's scent was certainly… new. "Rose. You have a crush on him, don't you?"
"I—what?"
"A crush. I have a checklist to confirm it, if you're interested."
Rose gaped at Poppy, cornflower blue eyes wide. Like she'd just been accused of something rather impossible. "I don't."
"You just told me you liked the way he smelled," Poppy pointed out.
"His cologne, Poppy. It's no big deal to notice what a boy smells like, especially if I see him often enough—"
"So you know what Potter smells like?" Poppy returned casually. When Rose merely mouthed helplessly back at her, she grinned. "You're holding hands with him now, aren't you?"
"Well, yes, but—"
"You're not great at knitting, but you knitted something for him."
"That's not—"
"You said his grandfather didn't like you, and that Malfoy got into trouble for having you over… and yet you still want to keep up appearances—"
"Oh, I don't. Poppy, I don't."
"You don't what?"
"Have a crush." Rose looked away from her friend, pressing her palms against her heated cheeks as though to cool them. Her voice had gone quiet. "I—I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"I really like being his friend," she said softly, unable to meet Poppy's eyes.
"But he's kissed you."
"Yes—no." The way she tripped over the words was endearing. "Well, in some ways. Though not exactly."
"Really." Poppy couldn't help feeling mildly impressed. Maybe she truly was a poor judge of character; she hadn't bet on Malfoy resisting long after giving Rose a hickey, of all things. "Well. I suppose the question is… do you want him to?"
Rose did not answer, looking so overwhelmed that Poppy felt a wave of sympathy for her. While most people perceived Rose's naivety in such matters to be refreshing, she was sure her friend found her own inexperience vexing at best. Rose thrived in a world she could see and touch; navigating the unfamiliar storm that were her feelings must feel akin to walking blind in a dark room.
A girl's first crush, Poppy thought with a wistful little smile, was always the most heartbreaking.
"Rosie," she said gently, "I promise it's not the end of the world to like your boyfriend. Most people would recommend it."
Rose blinked slowly, a strange glaze coming over her cornflower eyes. As though she was trying to temper some sort of upheaval happening inside of her.
"Do you—do you think it could be temporary?" she asked after a long moment, sounding a little too hopeful.
"It might be. Though it's hard to tell when it will go away."
"It can't last, surely?" Rose whispered, looking up at her friend with a pleading expression. "What do I do, Poppy?"
"You know where to find the answers." Poppy nudged lightly at her side, nodding toward to the hallway stretched out ahead of them. "Go to the library."