Reviewer Aryam asked why I chose for Hermione and Ron to live at The Burrow. I thought the arrangement made sense for Hermione, who was likely a Ministry workaholic even while raising the kids—living at The Burrow meant she and Ron got help from Molly and Arthur (not to mention everyone else). Hope that answers the question :)
That said, I'm so blown away by the incredible and passionate reviews from last chapter! Personal thank yous to Reader, sas479, bamberrr.x, xxally93, emeraldhead-crimsonheart, Phaknight, knottedroses, JSLaw, hpdude-4life (kisses!), holyemmoly, Meanderingauthor, Chanel Forsk, TooManyShipsI'llSink, Ellen1983, Priyodorshini, Pranali, deceptive-serenade, yeyeyee, mariafrancia76, Mochi, mlcm, ChanceToBeImmortal, TeddyVictoire'sLoveChild, momopushoso, icantthinkofaname11, HadleyJo, myrmiqons, Scw, smokingwinds, LilyJean630, LyntD, B. Vi, Meowmeow, whimsysun, magicstick93, Vanelore, ReticentReader, cokoa, Dani Prongs, catwomannnnnn1, isamartinez28, SkiesofStars, HPDWTWD, Ray, glassycry, syranzra, Escapingthisworldwithfiction, RCabajes, Connected-by-a-Semicolon, Weasleyred91, Aryam, NarmeenPervez99, LovelyLadyMindings, priprim, and all the sweet guests/anons! I hope I didn't miss anyone.
Please enjoy this one. :)
Chapter 27: The Unraveling
"Dear brother. You won't believe what I just heard."
Albus raised his head from his lunch plate to see Lily watching him with solemn eyes. His redheaded sister had a naturally chirpy disposition, so it was rather a rare thing to see her without her trademark grin. He was not a tidy eater, so it took him a good minute to respond—eventually with a mmmph as he attempted to swallow his mouthful of roast beef.
It proved a sufficient invitation. Lily slipped into the seat beside him, ignoring the curious glances from both sides of the Slytherin table.
"Where's Tarquin and Scorpius?" she asked casually, setting down her stack of books and scrolls on the bench.
"Dunno. Haven't been seeing them outside of Quidditch or class lately." Not that it bothered Albus too much. He had gotten used to it, random pockets of time where his friends disappeared, most likely to preoccupy themselves with gnarly family matters. As close as Albus was to both of them, he knew there were details in their lives he would never be privy to. Just by virtue of who he was.
Though Albus wasn't one to complain about things he couldn't change. Certainly the disparity in their backgrounds had posed inconveniences for their friendship. While the three of them shared enough in common, Scorpius and Tarquin sometimes spoke a whole different language between them. Albus didn't want to try to understand it, either. He wanted no part in the complex dynamics of Pureblood families, particularly in the matters of old school bigotry.
The few times Tarquin let slip his own biases regarding blood superiority had been infuriating, to say the least.
Though on days like today, his friends not showing up could feel a little alienating. Even if Albus was loath to admit it.
He turned his attention back to Lily.
"What's the word on the street, then?" he asked, chewing on his potatoes with enthusiasm. "Because if it's about me and Madison, we're long over."
"Ew, Al. Don't talk with your mouth full." The disapproving glance Lily gave him, so reminiscent of their mother, made Albus grin. "Listen, if there's one thing I try to avoid hearing about, it's your dating life."
"Forgot to ask you—how did Lorcan take it when you went to the Yule Ball with McLaggen?"
Lily blinked back at her brother in mild confusion. "What? Why would Lorcan feel anything?"
Albus harrumphed, as though the topic didn't merit any more discussion, and returned to ravishing his stew. Bloody odd that Lily was so prone to insights about others, and yet stayed stubbornly blind to the matters that involved her. Though perhaps the same could be said for most people, Albus realised wryly. It was always easier to evaluate the follies of others than it was to examine your own.
"Anyway," he said, unwilling to delve too deeply into Lily's love life, "Must be quite important if you came all the way here to have lunch with little old me."
"Not like Rosie's around," Lily said, with a suspiciously loud sigh.
"Oh. Where's Rose?"
"Where's Scorpius?"
"Er… is this some sort of trick question, or—"
Lily shot Albus another one of her sisterly looks, one that told him she thought he was being daft on purpose. She straightened her back, clearing her throat noisily. "Before I go into this, I have to make one thing clear."
This entire conversation was making Albus dizzy. "Lils? Get to it already."
"Rose and Scorpius make sense. Astrologically. I've done the math, and I have the charts to prove it."
"You know what isn't making sense? You." Albus' eyebrows snapped into a frown as her words sank in. "Wait, you have what charts?"
Lily ignored his question and pursed her lips, glancing about to make sure no one was eavesdropping. She scooted a tad closer to Albus and lowered her voice. "I overheard this at Defense this morning. My classmate Gwen… she was talking to somebody. Probably Marge Bones."
Albus made an impatient motion with his hands, as though to say get on with it.
"She said she saw Scorpius and Rose the other day." She paused for dramatic effect. "Kissing."
The fact that Lily was taking this hearsay so seriously was new to Albus. Every Potter and Weasley had been targets of gossip at some point or another, and they had all gotten very good at ignoring the whispers. And really, it was natural for people to speculate about Scorpius and Rose's supposed romance. Unlike most high-profile couples their age, both of them actually had established narratives within the wizarding media, however awful they might be.
Rose, the incorrigible flirt with a string of conquests… and Scorpius, the madman with a taste for Unforgiveables?
The stories write themselves, really.
It was no wonder they captured the public's imagination in a way that most wizarding influencers didn't.
Even so—
"Rumours aren't fact," Albus said with a dismissive wave. "Really, you should know better, Lils."
"At the library." Lily had crossed her arms now, a certain bullishness entering her expression. "Full-on snogging."
"Ha, now I know it's rubbish."
"And apparently they went at it forever—"
"I'm going to stop you right there, sis. It's Rose we're talking about." Albus paused, considering the impossibility of the scenario. "Hell, it's Scorpius we're talking about."
"Sorry to burst your bubble, Al," Lily said bluntly, her patience was wearing thin, "but maybe it's time to consider the fact that your best mate might really be into her."
Well, so much for lunch. His sister was not going to let this go, apparently. Albus uttered a long-suffering sigh and set down his fork. He humoured her for a few seconds, pretending to give the matter some thought.
Then, in a tone of finality—"No, he's not."
"But how do you know?"
Albus tried to ignore the childish whine in Lily's voice; the one she liked to use to weasel something out of him. "Because he said so, Lily."
"And you took his word for it?" Lily huffed, eyeing him in disbelief. "Look, I wasn't going to believe Gwen, but this one sounds different from the rest. She had details."
His headache was becoming as real as the dread. Albus found himself momentarily caught in between wanting to know and… Dash it, he wanted to know. "What kind of details?"
"She said they snogged until a pink furry interrupted… that had to be Arnold The Third, right? And then Scorpius had to leave for Quidditch around four."
Quidditch. Now that Albus bothered to recall, there was indeed one afternoon that Scorpius turned up half an hour late for practice, a strange glaze over his usually impassive grey eyes. Harper-Flint had commented on the fever flush on his face—you caught something, Malfoy? Albus had given little notice to the exchange, having been annoyed by Scorpius' refusal to explain his tardiness, but it was Tarquin who said, ever so slyly—
Since when do you wear chapstick, mate?
"Does Rose still wear lipgloss?" Albus heard himself mumble, the dread now working up to a state of denial.
"Yeah, she has a collection." Lily frowned at Albus. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Albus suppressed a disturbed groan. "Salazar on a stick. I need to—think about this." Had he missed other signs, somehow? Was it possible that the two of them were involved even before he had that conversation with Scorpius a few days ago?
But why would Scorpius hide something like this from him? It wasn't as though Albus would be difficult about it.
Well, maybe just a bit.
Alright, maybe a lot.
Albus didn't yet know what to think.
Blast—this was too much information at once.
At length, he raked his fingers through his already unruly hair. "I don't know what to believe anymore," he admitted haltingly, trying to keep the agitation out of his tone. "The last rumours I heard about them were—you know, the two of them shagging after the Yule Ball, hickeys and all—"
Lily said nothing, only gave him a meaningful look.
"The fuck, Lily? You're telling me those things happened?"
"I'm not telling you anything. I'm just saying, who bloody knows?" Lily said wryly. "I've always thought most of the gossip about them were exaggerated, but you know what they say… There must be a grain of truth in there somewhere."
Albus slumped in his seat, scandalised. "Fuck. Uncle Ron is going to flog him."
"Al, really… who cares what Uncle Ron thinks? Do you know what a big deal it is for Rosie to actually like someone who isn't a bloody Boggart? Rosie."
"I know, Lily, and that's exactly why I'm worried—"
"If she's happy, Uncle Ron should be, too." Lily jabbed Albus' side in reproach, making him squirm. "And so should you."
The idea of Rose and Scorpius together—for real—was completely alien to Albus. Friendship, yes… he wanted that for them. Encouraged it, even.
But more than that?
Surely that would be a mistake.
He knew Lily was speaking sense, but his thoughts were running wild on their own accord. He doubted he would ever forget the madness he and Tarquin had to endure back in fifth year because of Scorpius' erratic behavior. It had been the one and only time Scorpius got involved in a serious relationship, and it had been nothing short of an utter disaster. It was, of course, the easiest thing in the world to blame Georgia Plumes for the mess, for she had cheated incessantly and withheld affection whenever she deemed… but from where Albus stood, his friend was no innocent party either. Scorpius was controlling of everything she did, unreasonably jealous of where she spent her time, and demanded an emotional intensity Georgia could not give.
Rose, as well-meaning as she was, had always lived life on her own terms.
How could Scorpius ever accept her need to be independent and free?
Hell, what if they had a fallout equal to—or worse than—the one with Plumes?
Albus wasn't sure he or Tarquin had the emotional aplomb to sit through another one of Scorpius' destructive phases. Especially if it involved his own cousin.
By Dumbledore. Albus uttered a silent prayer to the heavens. Please let them all be rumours, and nothing more.
Though based on everything Lily was telling him, he had a feeling he was in for a crushing disappointment.
Lily rested her chin on her hand, noting Albus' pained expression with some amusement. "We can always talk about Hugo's boyfriend, if you'd like."
"Hugo has a boyf—? Okay, you know what. Don't tell me. I can't handle anymore today."
"Just a suspicion I have. He's been disappearing a lot lately. If it's a girl, he would have already told us about it."
"Lily," Albus groaned, putting his head in his hands, "I'm going to pretend I never heard that. It's not helping the headache." His thoughts returned to Scorpius and Rose, and the throb between his temples intensified. "Bloody hell."
His sister merely offered a sympathetic pat on his arm.
The Potter siblings sat in companionable silence for minutes, ruminating in the white noise echoing through the Great Hall. Lily hummed under her breath as she rearranged her astrology charts, the rustle of parchment oddly soothing on Albus' migraine. Finally, she spoke up once more.
"Al. Scorpius isn't actually the madman they say he is, is he?"
Memories of fifth year flooded back in full force, and Albus winced inwardly. It was tempting to say that Scorpius was better now, that perhaps with Rose he would be changed somehow—
But the truth was he simply didn't know.
He glanced at Lily, unable to keep the worry from stealing into his expression.
"He's not," he said at last. "He just loves like one. But I'm not sure that makes it any better."
Frankly, there was little appeal in visiting the greenhouses outside of Herbology class. Scorpius didn't particularly care for Herbology either, even though he was academically decent at it. It was a known fact that one didn't need to be interested in the subject to excel at it. Herbology simply required memory work and structural application.
How Rose was so dismal at the subject was a mystery. Albeit an amusing one.
Hogwarts' many greenhouses were fairly famous for their plethora of magical botanics—nurturing everything from the innocent sprigs of Pickle Peonies, to the violent colonies of Venus Traps. Since the start of his tenure, Professor Longbottom had focused most of his gardening efforts on Greenhouse Seven, where the seventh-years attended his classes. Seven was hardly the grandest of glass structures—it rather lacked the modern romantic layouts that characterised Four and Six—but it certainly boasted the greatest varieties of flora among the greenhouses.
Any plant enthusiast could get lost in Seven for hours. Though, of course, the young ones weren't allowed here for good reason. It wasn't unheard of to fall in love with a Bleeding Heart and get your ear chewed off by a Mandrake in a single sitting.
It was the barest of sunny days, but the air was especially chilly that afternoon. The winter breeze stung Scorpius' cheeks as he lingered by the glass doors of Greenhouse Seven, hands shoved into his robes' pockets to warm them. There was no reason to stay outside in this weather, but Scorpius wanted to give Rose a bit more time to herself.
She wouldn't be doing much studying once he was in there with her.
Scorpius looked over his shoulder, allowing himself a moment to observe Rose through the glass panels. It was obviously balmy inside of Seven; she had left her outer robes and cloak draped over a high chair. Her shirtsleeves were haphazardly rolled up, revealing her pale forearms.
Even the sight of that was enough to make his mouth water.
She was perusing the row of plants in Longbottom's gallery, mumbling soundlessly to herself as she consulted her checklist. Her hair was up today, a messy bun atop her head. Scorpius found himself fixated on the back of her neck, the lovely arch made prettier by the careless red tendrils curling into her collar.
He wondered, not for the first time, what she would taste like if he licked her there.
A movement from across the greenhouse caught Scorpius' eye, and his gaze flickered over to a trio of Gryffindor boys who looked no older than sixteen. They were hovering by a choir of Mandrakes, their eyes roving occasionally over to Rose as she busied herself with the plants in front of her.
Something darkly familiar flared in his chest then, but Scorpius refused to acknowledge it. Without thinking, his hand landed on the loose handle of the door, and he stepped swiftly into the greenhouse. The surrounding warmth and humidity hit him at once, making his neck itch beneath his scarf.
The boys paled at the sight of him, visibly flinching when he glanced in their direction. In a whispered hurry, they packed their books and parchments, scuttling past Scorpius for the door. The minor commotion had Rose turning from the far corner of the greenhouse, starting slightly when she noticed him.
"Scorpius," she said, a smile flitting past her face.
There was always something sweetly infectious about her. Just having her look at him like this made him a little bit giddy, not unlike a boy glimpsing his first crush. Scorpius felt his breath catch as he neared her.
"Hey," he said, staring back at her.
Rose bit down on her smile, going pink in the face. Then, as though she could no longer bear to hold his gaze, she lowered her head to look at her shoes.
Scorpius thought he would melt.
She was so cute.
They hadn't been alone together since their first kiss at the library a few days ago. Even the memory of it now made his blood hot beneath his skin. Scorpius was sure he wouldn't have been able to stop kissing her that day if Arnold The Third hadn't rudely intervened, tittering a series of hungry complaints to a frazzled and blushing Rose.
Though perhaps Arnold had done them both a favour for once. He'd almost missed Quidditch. Merlin knew Albus would have had conniptions if that ever happened.
Since then, Scorpius had contented himself with brief moments with Rose between classes. A touch of her hand. A silver of her smile. A kiss in her hair. Anything not to scare her. Everything to keep him from wanting more. He was well-aware that Rose needed time to process the precious thing that was growing between them. It didn't have a name, not yet… but Scorpius didn't want to force what they had into any sort of mold. Whatever it was, he was desperate to protect it. To do everything in his power to help it bloom and thrive.
He knew all too well how easily it could be trampled into nothing.
So—he would hold on to his common sense. Even if it took everything in him not to demand all her time; to hold her down and smother her with affection; to expect that she yielded to the depth of his desires. Because Scorpius did desire her. So intensely that he felt almost suffocated by it. Once upon a time, he thought it was enough to want Rose merely because she was pretty. But once he got to know her… of her irresistibly sweet, open nature, her amusing perspective of the world, and her most private wounds and worries… the mild attraction he felt for her had turned into a tide of longing so deep he could barely keep his head above it.
Hell, if she had been anyone else, he would have already tried to bed her.
But Rose wasn't just anyone.
For one—most people didn't simply fail Herbology.
Perhaps it was her nerves talking, but Rose was now prattling on about her Herbology revision, in a way someone would when they were trying to convince you they were doing fine. Scorpius merely listened, resting his chin in his hand and trying to mask his amusement.
"…finally memorised the qualities for this list of Classified B plants," she was saying, gesturing at the gallery of flora behind her. She looked hopefully at Scorpius. "Maybe I'm ready to move on to Classified C?"
Scorpius reached out to take her checklist from her. "Before you do, we should try a spot test."
Rose reddened, glancing back at the plant gallery as though she might find the answers there. She cleared her throat and turned back to Scorpius. "I'm ready."
Scorpius leaned against one of the high chairs, reaching out to drag Rose forward so she was standing right before him. He couldn't resist an affectionate tug at her hair. "How prepared are you really, imp?"
Rose frowned at him. "Are you doubting me?"
"No." Scorpius chewed the inside of his cheek when her frown deepened. "…A little."
She huffed, poking the checklist in his hand. "Go ahead, then. I might surprise you yet."
"There are punishments for wrong answers, you know." Scorpius had pressed a hand on the small of her back to draw her closer, his voice lowering against her ear. "There are also rewards."
"Scorpius," she said softly, avoiding his eyes, "don't tease me."
Even with that, she didn't make a move to push him away. Scorpius held back a smile and glanced down at her checklist.
"The flower of the Plagentine plant," he said.
"Corona," Rose said at once. When Scorpius raised an eyebrow at her, she hesitated for a moment. "Coronis?"
"Wrong." He leaned in and brushed his mouth briefly over hers, making her breath hitch. "Corona was correct."
Rose blinked back at him, indignant. "Then why did you—"
"You got to work under pressure if you want to pass practical," Scorpius said, shooting her an innocent smile. "What's one use for the root of Angusta?"
"Veritaserum," Rose said in a rush. Scorpius' fingers slipped into her red hair, tilting his head so he could kiss her.
"Did I get that wrong?" she whispered as he pulled away, her eyes strangely alight.
"No," he murmured. "That's the reward."
Rose returned his gaze, a little smile playing on her lips. Before she could say anything else, however, there was a loud bang of the glass door swinging open. Professor Longbottom bumbled in, carrying no less than five watering cans.
"Good afternoon, good afternoon!" he cried out, seemingly at no one. "Balmy today, isn't it? How are we feeling, little friends? Withered or watered?"
"It's Professor Longbottom," Rose said brightly. "I should go say hello—"
But before she could call out to him, Longbottom had burst into a song among the Mandrakes.
"Strong and green, sweet or mean, grow to greatness, little friends…"
Startled by this turn of events, Rose stumbled back into Scorpius' arms, keeping well-hidden behind the fluttering leaves of the towering Vine Willow. For such a soft-spoken man, Longbottom possessed a surprisingly deep, sonorous voice; it seemed to reverberate forever within the greenhouse. Beside Scorpius, several potted plants had began to sway in response to the slightly off-key crooning.
"Bloody hell," Scorpius muttered, staring at the unlikely scene before him. Was this some sort of untoward greenhouse disco he'd never heard about? Rose caught his eyes, her palm now clasped over her mouth to keep her giggles from escaping her. Scorpius watched her for a long moment, half-smitten, before a wicked little grin stole into his face.
Without warning, he leaned in and licked the back of her hand.
"Slow and steady, young and leafy, grow to greatness, little friends…"
Rose squeaked in shock, her hand dropping from her face at once—and then Scorpius' mouth was on hers, her breathless laughter caught in his heated kiss. Their gazes locked for the briefest of moments as their lips met… a primal satisfaction filling his gut as the surprise in her cornflower blue eyes gave way to something soft and languid. He couldn't help a smile as he parted his lips ever so slightly, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth. She released the softest of breaths, letting him in with a shy tilt of her head. And then she'd given in to him completely, her eyes fluttering shut as he held her close. Longbottom's sing-song long forgotten.
She tasted like sunlight and vanilla; the most arousing of combinations. This kiss thrilled him just as much as their first… but now there were subtle differences that made his heart leap. This time, Rose mirrored his kisses with her own, learning in her own way to return his affections. His tongue guided hers before she let her own glide against his, the delicious satin of her mouth slowly undoing the last of his control.
Scorpius couldn't help the growl that escaped him when he drew Rose as close as he could manage; the cloying, heated friction between them was driving him out of his mind. He brought her hips against his, memorising the rise and fall of her gentle curves under his hands; how the softness beneath her skirt fit against the hardest parts of him. It was beginning to obsess him, the way she felt in his hold… so small and delicate. Like he could break her, if he wasn't careful.
Somehow that turned him on like nothing else.
When he finally pulled away, nuzzling warmly against her neck as she sighed against him, Longbottom had already left for another greenhouse. Several plants were still swaying to an invisible tune, but Seven had, for most part, returned to normal.
The two of them, on the other hand.
The tips of Rose's fingers grazed across his jawline, a distant dream colouring her pretty gaze. Scorpius traced the swell of her bottom lip, unable to look away from her kiss-flushed face. Feeling rather enamoured by the fact that he was the one who made her this way.
Merlin. Maybe he would never get used to this.
Rose thumbed the corner of his mouth then, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "My lipgloss," she murmured, by way of explanation.
"Don't care." Scorpius pressed his mouth over hers once more, breathing in the heady vanilla and lemon scent of her closeness. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Revision with Poppy, as you know. Then I have to go visit Buckbeak for a little while."
"When is it my turn, imp?" He did not want to pressure her, and yet—the thought of not even seeing her beyond class was almost unbearable.
Rose reached up to brush away a few strands of his tousled hair, losing herself in thought. Then, after a moment of consideration—"I'll come for your Quidditch game. The one against Hufflepuff."
"Like all the girlfriends do?" Scorpius said with a straight face, unable to resist teasing her.
"Is that okay?" The shyness had returned to Rose now, a silver of self-doubt in her smile. Somehow, he could sense that it took some degree of bravery for her to suggest something like that. Not to mention she was hardly a fan of the sport.
It made his heart twinge to know she was trying. Just like he was.
His fingers moved to caress the soft edges of her nape. "Do you want to come for the victory party afterwards?"
Rose raised an eyebrow, looking mildly amused. "Scorpius. You haven't won yet."
"We will." Scorpius didn't think Rose would take well to Slytherin's traditional strategy against Hufflepuff; there was none, usually. It would be a violent game, but the ends justified the means. "You'll like it. Al making a fool of himself. Sometimes the Giant Squid joins in the dancing once the music's on."
Rose's eyes lit up. "Dancing with Greta?"
Scorpius had to look away, unable to hide his smile at her enthusiasm.
"I'll come." Rose's hand had brushed against his. Her little finger hooking around his own before the rest of their fingers caught and intertwined. Like second nature.
Scorpius didn't want to take it for granted. Any of it.
"It's a date," he murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss on her freckled cheek. Rose raised her head slightly, her nose brushing his, and her smile was like an arrow to his heart.