Welp this was supposed to be posted yesterday but better late than never. Thank you for sharing your perspectives on toxic relationships. I've been part of one myself, and it means a lot to hear your own experiences and thoughts on the subject. I'm heartened to see your anxiety and concern for Scorose! I hope you stick with me as we sort out their growing pains.
Much hugs to Hefty, MmeBookworm, LoreleiLorelei, MakeMeProud (oh wow thanks for the note on the YT read :D), Scorprosetvd, Blue Hedwig, Lamp Light Reader (I'm really enjoying Folklore!), Rae Ella, Aryam, Helo, deceptive-serenade, Paroo, jacqueline, HPDWTWD, Alaine, ChanceToBeImmortal, Chanel Forsk, AMBERJANUS, whiy8, veeRonniekins, isamartinez28, wotdidjasaymate, Escapingthisworldwithfiction, Vanelore, DukeSilver420, NotsoSugarQueen, BrokenDreamer31, Fan, misskangas, CaptainScorose, Dani Prongs, crushHP, Mata Anna, tulipfields, roseweasley394, lyssabun, RCabajes, catwomannnnnn1, SkiesOfStars, mlcm, Blood and Dark Chocolate, MadEyeM00dy and the lovely guests who reviewed :D I appreciate your words so much!
Dear Rae Ella, your note really touched my heart. Sending love to you and your baby. I'm so glad this story brightens your day!
Chapter 37: The Intervention
Maybe Albus had a point, Tarquin thought grimly, and this thing between Scorpius and Rose was a bad idea.
Over the past few days, Tarquin had witnessed his friend shoot death glares at Jamie Wilkins during class, cut Winston Hedge down with a well-timed insult, and all but frighten a group of innocent Gryffindor boys on their way to lunch. Scorpius was known to possess the mood of the devil himself… but this wasn't a sight Tarquin had witnessed for a blessed while.
The last time he saw Scorpius behaving like a bloody tyrant towards the general Hogwarts population, Georgia had been unbashedly having affairs behind his back. He'd spent half their relationship denying her infidelity, and the other half getting into his cups and being a dick.
It had been painful to watch then. And still a pain in the arse now.
Tarquin wasn't a fucking mind reader. But they'd grown up together, and Scorpius had always been the sensitive soul between the two of them. Even if he refused to admit it.
He cared nothing for Georgia now, but clearly he hadn't gotten over the shit she put him through.
Hell, perhaps he never would.
Fucking dire. If this was the price of love, Tarquin was glad he would never have to pay it.
And really, this whole thing was giving him post-traumatic flashbacks from two years ago.
He had to nip it in the bud. Fast.
So, being the dependable friend that he was, Tarquin had nobly sacrificed his trove of alcohol to the occasion. But there was no telling if this was enough to drag Scorpius out of his self-dug shit pit.
Tarquin watched as his friend knocked back yet another glass; he didn't even wait to pour himself the next, downing the fiery drink as casually as water. He was currently sprawled across the chaise, his deceptively relaxed manner betrayed only by his unforgiving grip on the glass.
The more miserable Scorpius got, the more he took to resembling a scorned aristocrat. Sour in the face, haughty as hell, and far too entitled to his feelings.
At least he was a mopey drinker, not an angry one.
That counted for something.
As Scorpius emptied his glass, Tarquin found his thoughts meandering once more. He was a man of few positives, but he was dead loyal to Scorpius, the way one would be to a brother. He wasn't sure what it took to win a girl like Rose, but Scorpius was certainly the full package. Sure, he was a bit of a nutjob in the worst of times… but who wasn't, really?
At least he was loaded. The Fawleys were a respectable lot, but few families could compete financially with the Malfoys.
And really, someone like Fawley was very little of be jealous of. The man was generally a lost cause, as a human being. From Tarquin's own casual observations, he spent most of his time sneaking about in the forest, talking to animals and collecting bugs.
Frankly a weirdo.
Though it was still beyond Tarquin how one's tastes could pivot from Georgia Plumes to Rose Weasley. In his humble opinion, they weren't even in the same damn league.
So. This shitshow was a complete fucking mystery.
He only returned to the present when Scorpius finally slumped back against the chaise, the empty glass slipping from his fingers and landing on the carpet with a dull thump. "Alright, that's enough," Tarquin chided, swiping the glass before Scorpius could get to it. "Have you gone mad?"
"It's early."
"It's Wednesday," Tarquin quipped. "Go easy, this shit is expensive."
Scorpius didn't bother to open his eyes. "I'll buy you another one."
"This is Dudognon Heritage, mate. Only two of its kind in the damn world. And here we are wasting it on—what? A chit."
"Then there's one more, isn't there?" Scorpius reached out for the decanter once more, gesturing carelessly in Tarquin's direction. "Glass."
"I'm serious, Scor. You've had too much." Tarquin pulled out another bottle from his stash. "…At least use the cheaper stuff."
Scorpius wordlessly magicked a second glass, and then he was pouring himself another bout of Dudognon without preamble.
Tarquin rolled his eyes. This was exactly why it was a bad idea for parents to be overly affectionate—it resulted in needy, sentimental children. And Scorpius was extraordinarily clingy, despite Lucius' ill-received attempts to shake it out of him.
Tarquin's own mother never bothered with any of this coddling nonsense, and look how well he turned out.
"Damn, she really fucked you up," Tarquin muttered. Though at this point he wasn't sure if he was referring to Astoria, Georgia or Rose. Maybe all three.
Scorpius glanced up at Tarquin, looking scarily sober for the amount of alcohol he'd downed. "Fucking Al," he said, sounding faraway. "He's probably right."
"What?"
"About me and Rose." Scorpius rubbed his face, splotches of red rising in his pale skin. "We're not going to work out."
"I'm confused as to how you ever thought it was going to work in the first place," Tarquin said sardonically. "All for the better, isn't it? The girl is obviously the soulmate of some hairy Puffoon."
Scorpius' brows furrowed. Which only encouraged Tarquin to continue.
"Not to mention she's utterly ordinary. Too naïve of a girl to be truly appealing, if you ask me. And she's far too short for you. Nor is she particularly gifted, you know—" Tarquin motioned vaguely over his chest, "here."
"Tarquin," Scorpius growled in an undertone.
"And let's not forget your family history. Weasley and Malfoy—scandalous stuff. Dating is one thing… but can you imagine the scenes if you married her? I shudder to think of Rose turning up to a gathering at the Verbekes', or the Marikovs'… they'd douse her in caviar and eat her alive."
Scorpius' jaw worked, his glazed eyes narrowing now, but Tarquin wasn't anywhere near done.
"And we all know you're a one-woman type of man, but you can't seriously think there's anything in this for the long run. Must I remind you that she only came to you because she thought you're of some use to her? You deserve better, even you know it—"
"I don't want better," Scorpius interrupted flatly. "I want her."
Tarquin gave him a critical look. "Did you hear a single word I said?"
"Yes, and you're full of shit."
"Did you hear a single word you said?"
Scorpius set down his glass on the tabletop with a sharp clink, his voice oddly thick. "What difference does it make, really? It doesn't make me want her less."
This was honestly bewildering. "But she's so average. And you're so—not."
"I suppose I should learn from you," Scorpius said frostily, "and date a string of unaverage women I care nothing for?"
"At least you'd be far less insufferable," Tarquin shot back. "Have you ever considered that perhaps your family may have a better idea of the kind of woman that suits you? I'm sure no one they choose will leave you more miserable than your own picks."
Scorpius threw back his head and let out a mirthless laugh. "You're really going to preach to me about the benefits of an arranged marriage when you're having a breakdown about Emery every few minutes?"
"Tch. I don't have breakdowns about Emery."
"You said you'd sooner fuck Celestina Warbeck—"
"So do most men with wives—"
"And the Banshees. Including the ex-members. And the dead ones."
"Enough about me," Tarquin said promptly, reaching for the brandy and pouring himself a glass. "If you like Rose Weasley so much, why wouldn't it work out, then? You don't actually believe she'll cheat."
A beat. Scorpius made a low sound in his throat. "I don't know."
Tarquin's interest piqued. The thought of Rose Weasley living up to her shoddy media reputation was—something, to say the least. "…Well? Did she?"
The sudden flash of misery on Scorpius' face was a tad heartbreaking, frankly. "I don't know," he repeated. "Why wouldn't she?"
"Alright. Now I know you're drunk."
Scorpius said nothing, only stared up at the ceiling with bleary eyes.
His friend's poor self-esteem was hardly news to Tarquin, but this was a new low. It was becoming apparent that Scorpius' glaring insecurities were hardly a result of Rose—or Fawley, for that matter. Tarquin was not the most enlightened of young men, but even he could recognise a destructive pattern when he saw one.
For Scorpius to get into such a damn state over nothing more than a hypothetical notion…
Talk about a mastery in self-sabotage.
They sat there in a moody silence as a group of Slytherins bumbled past them and out of the common room. Tarquin knew better than to push, and so he didn't; merely leaned back into his seat and waited.
Sure enough, Scorpius exhaled heavily and threw an arm over his eyes, his next words muffled into his sleeve. "Do you think…" he trailed off, making Tarquin strain his ears, "do you think I'm holding Rose to someone else's standards?"
"No shit," Tarquin muttered, swirling his drink. "The girl spends more time with beasts than people. Let's face it, she'd sooner run away with a Hippogriff than with Fawley." He gave his friend a pointed stare. "Have you even told her?"
"Told her what?"
"That you fancy her. Obviously."
Scorpius huffed under his breath. "No."
"Why the hell not?"
"She's out of my league."
A ludicrous thought occurred to Tarquin. "Fuck me. You don't even know what she feels about you, do you?"
Scorpius stiffened at the question, his discomfort becoming more obvious by the second. Tarquin rolled his eyes and set down his glass, regarding Scorpius with some disbelief.
"I'm hardly the person to come to for love advice," he said, trying to keep his voice down as a group of firsties shuffled past behind him, "but maybe she doesn't know you're serious about her because you haven't—I dunno—told her."
There was a melancholic flicker in Scorpius' grey eyes, even though he refused to meet Tarquin's stare. "You're the one who said she only came to me because I was of some use to her."
"So that's what it's really about? You're afraid to find out she doesn't like you as much as you like her?" Tarquin uttered an impatient huff, getting to his feet. "Feelings, man. I hope to Merlin I never catch them."
"Where're you going?" There was a grogginess in his voice as Scorpius moved to straighten up on the chaise. "Meeting Hugo?"
Tarquin froze where he stood, glancing sharply at Scorpius. Hugo? What the hell would Scorpius know about…?
But Scorpius was pinching the bridge of his nose now, eyes squeezed shut to stave off a headache. He didn't seem to notice what he'd just said… as though the brilliant Hugo Weasley had merely registered as an infinitesimal blip across his jumbled thoughts. And nothing more.
As it should be.
"I'm meeting Emery," Tarquin corrected slowly. He forced himself to shift his own thoughts away from Hugo then, the mental image of a darling smile replaced by the purse of Emery's prim mouth. He uttered an inward sigh, suddenly far too open to the idea of getting drunk. "…Have some class and leave some drink for me, won't you? Fuck knows I always need one after meeting my darling betrothed."
Scorpius' lip curled, but there was an unmistakable pity in his expression that unnerved Tarquin. "Give her my love. Since you won't give her any."
"This is a loveless marriage, and we'd like to keep it that way." Tarquin gave his friend a wry smirk as he turned to leave. "Send your love somewhere else."
The winding stairwell leading deep into the Slytherin dungeons was not a particularly inviting place. Each descending step felt several degrees colder than the last, and any student in green and silver was known to be equally chilly to guests.
As such, Slytherin house had few willing visitors.
As Head Girl, Poppy was privy to the ever-changing passwords of all four houses. But good sense stopped her on one of the dusty steps some distance from the looming stone entrance of the Slytherin common room. Head Girl or not, it would be unwise to enter without a Slytherin companion. Gryffindors were scorned in these parts, and even a lion would do well not to venture alone into a giant lair of snakes.
"What are you doing here?"
Poppy started out of her thoughts, craning her neck to see Albus approaching.
Her mouth cottoned up.
A few Slytherins filed past them, but Albus had slowed to a pause on the step above hers. He was a tall fellow as it was, but this extra height made him feel more imposing than usual. On any other day, this would annoy Poppy, but at present she only felt a brief panic fill her chest.
He knows too much. After Albus' unexpected appearance at the Prefects' Bathroom, Rose had explained to Poppy that Albus was not an enemy of their secret mission… but an ally of sorts.
He was the one who brought it up to me, Rose admitted, with some difficulty. About you and Crossley. And I know it's hard to believe, but Al… he's a good person. And I suppose he just wants to make sure you're alright.
How did he find out—?
He's your Potions partner, isn't he? And he's far more observant than we give him credit for. A note of hesitation touched Rose's next words. What he didn't know, Poppy… is that you're the Mergirl.
Poppy had been bewildered by the emphasis Rose placed on this fact. Why would that matter to him?
Their dormitory mates, however, had chosen that moment to return. The conversation broke up, and Poppy didn't push Rose for more after that; it was clear that her friend's spirits had dipped after her row with Scorpius on the pitch. From what little Poppy could gather, it seemed Scorpius was upset by Fawley's sudden appearance… as well as the awkward issue of Rose refusing to divulge why.
Her friend, sweet person that she was, always wanted to do the right thing by others. But was it really worth getting into a fight with Scorpius over a matter that concerned Poppy?
Especially since what they had between them was so new and so—rare.
So even if there was the mortifying fact that Albus Potter was aware of her most shameful secrets—
Poppy forced herself to focus on the matter at hand.
"I'm looking for Malfoy," she said, keeping her tone business-like.
Albus uttered derisive snort. "Whatever for?"
"Could you fetch him for me, please?" How funny; it was nippy a moment ago, but now Poppy felt as though someone had just lit a robust fire in the stairwell.
"No." Albus' dismissive reply brought a rising indignance within her. She glanced up at him, suddenly irritated—muted blue eyes fixed on intense green. There was a brief satisfaction in Albus' face when their eyes locked. She looked away again and straightened where she stood, trying to keep her wits about her.
"It's for Rose's sake, not mine. It's a small favour, Potter."
"I'd rather get hexed in the balls than talk to his stubborn arse," Albus said curtly, moving down onto her step. "If you want him, you'll have to wait."
"You too, then?"
"What do you mean, me too?"
"Did you get into a fight with him? Because Rosie did, too."
Albus' tone was brittle dry. "Wow, did she? I did not see that coming at all."
Poppy ignored his cutting reply, contemplating her options as she studied the closed stone entrance.
Then, without another word, she started towards it.
"Oy. Wait a damn second." Albus had blocked her path with his arm, his palm coming to rest on the wall beside them. "You don't just get to barge in there."
Poppy shot him a look of disbelief. "I'm Head Girl."
"Slytherin code of honour. I can't let you."
"Potter. It's in the Prefect Code that Head students can enter any common room at will—"
"Nice try, Langdon. I happen to know that permission only applies if official duty calls for it." Albus gave her a deliberate once-over that sent another nervous tingle up her spine. "What official duty are you on?"
"Friendship duty," she bit back. "Something you wouldn't know anything about—hey, let me go."
"I already said I can't let you." Albus' grip on her arm had tightened ever so slightly. Poppy tugged once more, but Albus held fast. Another group of Slytherins descended past them without a second glance. The sound of the stone entrance groaned close behind them before silence cloaked the stairwell once more.
"Let me go," Poppy hissed, her temper spiking. "I need to talk to Malfoy—it's important."
Albus raised a cocky eyebrow. "It's against the rules for you to be in there."
"Like you care for the rules!"
There was an annoying twinkle in his eye now. "Oh, I care about a lot of things."
"I'll dock points if you don't release me," she threatened.
"Also against the rules. Wonder what McGonagall would say about our own Head Girl exploiting her authority."
God, he was such a pain. How on earth was he Rose's favourite cousin? Poppy glared up at him, trying not to fume. Maybe this wasn't worth it, she thought dejectedly. Perhaps she should wait to catch Malfoy at dinner, or—
She hadn't yet noticed, but Albus had somehow wandered closer. He was still studying her closely, in that suspiciously calculative way that reminded her that she was, in fact, standing on the edge of a snake pit. Most Potter-Weasley fans liked to say someone as sunny-natured as Albus must have been sorted into Slytherin by mistake…
But Poppy wasn't that naïve. He had to be there for good reason.
"Fine, I'll get Scorpius for you," Albus said casually, interrupting her thoughts.
Poppy tried not to sound too hopeful. "You will?"
"I just need you to tell me one thing."
Of course. What Slytherin ever did a favour out of goodwill? Poppy pursed her lips, but Albus had spoken again, his next words echoing low and hoarse in the hollowed stairwell.
"Has it always been you?"
Poppy eyebrows knotted in confusion. She was tempted to think that Albus was trolling her, perhaps, with a question so obviously vague it could mean anything in a thousand different contexts—but she could detect none of the humour he was so well-known for in his solemn expression.
So she said, rather stupidly, "What?"
Albus released a quiet breath, and suddenly he wasn't quite looking at her. A beat, then—"The Mergirl," he said, with some reluctance. "Has it always been you?"
Oh.
Poppy tilted her head ever so slightly, trying to puzzle out his intentions. What, exactly, was he hoping to hear? Albus had clearly seen her in creature-form at the Prefects' Bathroom; he knew the truth as well as she did.
Why, then, would he ask her again?
"Yes," she said at last, trying to keep her confusion out of her voice.
There was a strange shift on Albus' boyish face. For no reason at all, Poppy could sense a growing heaviness in the air between them. As though there were other secrets she wasn't quite aware of rising to the surface.
Whatever it was, she wanted no part of it. She had to leave.
"Langdon," Albus said unexpectedly, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "Look, there's no easy way to say this, but…"
He was interrupted by the sound of collapsing rocks, the stone entrance suddenly splitting open to reveal Scorpius. Albus abruptly released his hold on Poppy's arm, drawing back from her as though she'd just scalded him.
Not that Scorpius cared to notice. He merely brushed past them as though they weren't even there. Despite his surly disposition, Poppy could sense a frenetic energy coming off of him, the wired force of his presence primed to shock those who dared to come too close.
Was it odd, though, that she still found Scorpius Malfoy a hell lot less intimidating than Albus Potter?
Poppy turned on her heel and left Albus behind, chasing upwards after Scorpius two steps at a time.
Scorpius strode down the hallways in a hell of a mood, his fingers going through his tousled hair for the thousandth time in an hour. Around him, students stumbled back a step to avoid him. Just as well. He was not feeling particularly kind.
He was really supposed to be studying for the NEWTs. Seventh years had quizzes lined up in the coming week, and preliminary exams were beckoning in February. But Scorpius was in no mood to get lost in a book.
Here he was instead, half-drunk and strung out on Tarquin's favourite brandy, feeling all kinds of shattered inside.
A persistent migraine was gnawing away between his ears. As much as Scorpius feared to think of it, the angry pulse of this drunken headache posed a frightening reminder of what his life was like just two short years before.
This was the very feeling that overwhelmed him whenever he was lied to, or cheated on, or demeaned, or stonewalled—
This clutch of worthlessness was not foreign to Scorpius. He recognised this dormant beast, long kept alive but quiet as it fed on his deepest, most secret anxieties. But now it was fully awake and ravenous, chewing him up from the inside even as it demanded more of him… until nothing he offered was enough. Its returning presence scared him, a mad thing that threatened to consume every shred of happiness Rose had imparted to him the past few months, twisting them into uglier versions of the truth. It panicked Scorpius that his heartfelt fondness for Rose was slowly becoming poisoned by the most paralysing of fears—
That his growing feelings were worth nothing to her. And if she knew of them, then…
She would leave.
He wanted so much to be gentle with her, and yet if he couldn't hold on tightly enough—
Then she would leave him for someone else. Surely.
Scorpius came to a pause and uttered a shuddering breath, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose once more, trying to shut out the influx of unpleasant sensations.
He hadn't had one of these migraines for months. Not since…
Rose appeared behind his eyelids, her soft cheeks flushed and vivid eyes so wide. She had been desperate and hopeful when she approached him at Hogsmeade the first time. Sweet-faced and brimming with refreshing certainty as she delivered the silliest request he'd ever heard in his life…
She'd meant nothing to him then.
"You sure move fast."
Scorpius forced his eyes open, his vision a blur against the late afternoon light. Poppy was standing before him, trying to catch her breath. She'd appeared out of nowhere, the colour high on her cheeks from running. Reflexively, he glanced about for Rose. But no—the Head Girl was on her own.
"Langdon." He shut his eyes once more to curb the fresh throb in his temple.
"You look terrible," Poppy said, not mincing words. She sounded faraway to him, as though they were trapped in separate bubbles.
"Migraine," he rasped.
He heard her pilfer through her book bag, and then she'd shoved a thin vial of liquid into palm. Scorpius blinked slowly down at it, trying to discern the liquid brew.
"For headaches," she explained patiently. "I get them too. Takes a minute or two for it to get to work."
Well, if Langdon was trying to poison him for Rose's sake, it might as well be now. He had nothing to lose.
Scorpius undid the cork, knocked one back, and waited.
Sure enough, the fog of pain lifted after a minute. The tension dissipated from behind his eyes, the warm sensation of relief cradling his scalp and spreading rapidly down his neck. Scorpius rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the light as Poppy came into focus once more.
"Better?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Scorpius returned the vial to her, trying to comprehend Poppy's presence before him.
Why was she here, anyway? They had nothing to talk about.
"Malfoy," she said tentatively, as if she'd heard his thoughts. "Listen, I need to tell you something."
Scorpius couldn't help a snort. "If this is another lecture about treating Rose right, I've enough of those from Al."
Poppy managed a wan smile. "No, it's—not about that. Even though I do know Rose is unhappy about something to do with you. But it's partly because of me and I…" she stumbled over her words then. "I—I want to make sure she has a fair shot."
"A fair shot—?"
"With you."
That was unexpected. Even so, Scorpius couldn't think of a reason why Rose's relationship with him had anything to do with Poppy. The possibility that Rose couldn't even be arsed enough to explain things herself chipped away at him, but Scorpius didn't want to dwell on it now. Not when he was already feeling like his heart had just been trodden over by a horde of Hippogriffs.
"Nice to know someone doesn't hate the idea of us," he said dryly, poised to leave. "But I much rather hear it from Rose. I'll see you in class, Langdon."
"You know James cheated on me, don't you?"
Scorpius stopped in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder in disbelief. James Potter's infidelity was a well-known thing back then, but he had never heard Poppy acknowledge the fact. After Albus told her about his brother's affair with Harriet Cole, she had continued dating James as though nothing had happened.
One of the many reasons Albus found her unbearable.
But Scorpius could relate. He'd been there himself.
Poppy watched his conflicting expressions and smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You know better than most people how it feels like, so you'll understand everything I'm about to say," she said. "Come on. Let's take a walk."