Chapter 12: On A Steel Horse I Ride or, Don't You Put Me On The Backburner
Rating: M mainly for language, and I can't discount any funny business later on
Disclaimer: I work with only what the infallible J.K. Rowling has given me.
Hogwarts awoke to find itself victim to a typical January morning; crisp, snowing, and too fucking cold.
Scorpius stamped his feet as he and Toby entered the Entrance Hall, watching as his breath puffed up in a little cloud in front of him. The sound of voices to his right caught his attention, and he angled his head towards the Great Hall, watching as the few students who had remained at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays talked over their lunch.
"Think I'll head down before the surge," Toby said, clapping his hand on Scorpius' shoulder. "I'll come up in a bit."
Scorpius nodded and set off for the stairs, and from behind him he could hear more students as they departed their carriages. He walked up the six floors in record time, anxious to get to his room.
As he turned into the corridor leading to his dormitory, he heard the familiar twanging of an old guitar, the murmurings of a song. He was startled when he realised he had missed the sound, but still he kept his face impassive as he came face to face with the portrait that stood in front of his room's entrance.
"Howdy, tenderfoot."
Scorpius inclined his head, his lips lifting up into not quite a smile, but not quite not a smile either. "Happy New Year, Mr. Wyatt."
"John, if you'd be so kind. Good Christmas?"
Scorpius nodded. "The usual. Glad to be back."
John scrutinised Scorpius closely, scratching the back of his head. "Your hair looks a mite different."
"I had it cut."
"Ah." John sat back on his bench, resting his guitar on his knee. "I suppose you'll be wantin' to go in then?"
"That would be my preference. Leo Anguis," Scorpius said, and then, as if by afterthought, asked, "Is my roommate back yet?"
The cowboy grinned at him. "Sure. She got back just a few minutes 'fore you did, brought a right pretty girl back with her."
Not Conrad, then, Scorpius thought immediately, and then stifled a groan. That stupid Hufflepuff hadn't even been on his radar until a few weeks ago.
The door swung open, and Scorpius walked in. Rose's door was slightly ajar, as it usually was when she wasn't in, but he could hear her voice from inside, and Genevieve was with her. He paused. He could knock, maybe, open the door just a tad, say "Hello" and perhaps "Good Christmas?" like John had asked him, and like a roommate might do, but his hand wouldn't leave his side. Anyway, she wasn't alone in there, so maybe it wasn't a good idea.
He felt like a class idiot as he hovered outside her door, and he heard her friend's laughing voice as she joked, "So, have you seen him yet? Has he recovered from your charms?"
There was a dull thud as a book made contact with a person, and Gen yelped.
"Oh, leave it."
Scorpius stiffened, and suddenly the memory of Rose's hands cupping Conrad's face as she kissed him replayed in his mind, and despite the fact that the image felt as if it had been burned into his brain, it looked slightly different - though no less nauseating - each time he remembered it, until he couldn't be sure what it had looked like at all.
Knocking was definitely not a good idea.
Scorpius was unsurprised when, shortly after dinner, Artemis appeared at his window, a letter sealed with the Hogwarts crest held firmly in her beak. He read McGonagall's letter as his owl poked about his person, her beak in the pockets of his robes.
His eyes strayed on the parchment for minutes after he had finished reading it, vacant in thought. He hadn't seen her since he'd left the Ball almost the month before. His jaw tensed the longer his mind ran, flashes of anger giving way to unsettling moments of quiet. His indecisiveness bothered him — it bothered him more than the odd feeling he had in the pit of his stomach when he thought about seeing her again, the odd feeling he had when he thought about not seeing her.
He thought about the heat that had welled up in his body as he had watched her in the middle of the dance floor, and a sudden revelation overtook him. He let out a long, heavy breath.
He didn't want to be mad at her.
He would be mature and rational and reasonable, even though the thought of Conrad Wells made his wand hand twitch, and he finally put the parchment down.
Her door was ajar again, which probably meant she was either eating late or at the library. He could meet her at McGonagall's office.
The castle was unseasonably quiet for a first day back, and inconveniently so. Scorpius was hoping the sound of other voices or perhaps the sight of other people might serve as a distraction, but he didn't see nor hear another soul the entire four floors down.
Did a month change anything? Granted, thirty days wasn't very long, but wars had been fought and won in less time. Theirs had been going on for seven years as it was.
He sighed. He was overthinking it.
He would arrive, and then she would arrive (or maybe she was already there), and he would say "Hello" then, and they could get back to what they were before the holidays.
Not that Scorpius had any idea what they were. They weren't friends, though, that much was obvious, but then what were they? Reluctant co-Heads who went to clubs together and danced together at balls? Roommates who ate out together and stuck their noses into places they didn't belong?
He sighed once more, checking his watch as he entered the corridor leading to the Headmaster's Tower. Five minutes early.
He waited in silence, digging his hands into his pockets and resting against the wall behind him. He checked his watch a few times more, his mouth pursing when its face read five twenty-nine. One minute.
He cocked his head as he looked down the hallway, his brow furrowing as he pricked his ears, listening. He counted a silent fifteen seconds in his head, and then he heard it. Footsteps. His hand twitched in the cavern of his right pocket, and he fought the urge to lift a hand into his hair and smooth it.
He wasn't sure what reaction he was expecting from himself when she turned the corner, or if he was even going to react at all; maybe it was the stress of her lateness, or the coldness of the stone behind his back, but a sudden chill went through him, and his throat felt tight with a lump he couldn't quite swallow down.
Maybe it was because of how normal she looked. Her hair was in a bun instead of its usual ponytail, but it was neat and professional, not like the updo she had worn when he had last seen her. And it wasn't sparkling this time.
Despite what he'd told himself earlier, that same spark of irritation welled up again, that same image in his brain flickering to life. He's nice, nothing to write home about, I suppose.
He cast his eyes down to the ground, suddenly aware of his clenched teeth.
He'd show her. He'd show her just how goddamn mature he could be. "Close call, Wea-"
"If we hurry we won't be late."
He blinked, an eyebrow crooking up, and he paused for a second or two before he nodded. "Right."
She nodded too and began to walk up the stairs. From behind her, Scorpius frowned.
They reached the doors leading to McGonagall's office, which swung open before them, and Scorpius inclined his head towards her. "Just in time," he murmured as they walked in, and though the recognition in her eyes made it obvious that she had heard him, she said nothing.
His frown deepened.
She wished he would stop staring.
The near constant weight of his gaze was really beginning to get to her, and she felt her cheeks go warm with…well, Rose wanted to call it annoyance. Given that it was Scorpius Malfoy, it probably was.
It would've been better if he had been full-on staring, instead of this incessant out-of-the-corner-of-his-eye stare. Because then she could've looked at him with a reasonable amount of haughtiness, enough for him to see the real annoyance in her eyes, an annoyance that said Rose Weasley Meant Business, and then he would've glared back at her, and she could've gotten on with her life.
But no. Instead she had to keep her eyes fixed on McGonagall's face, self-consciously nodding every few seconds to show that there was only one thing that was holding her attention, whilst feeling herself grow progressively hotter and more uncomfortable every time those steely eyes flickered back in her direction and that voice spoke from beside her. She shifted a little, adjusting her collar and smoothing her hair.
"…an absolute triumph," their Headmistress continued. "Professor Sinistra never comes to these occasions, you know, since her nights are spent rather occupied by star-gazing, but she said the minute she saw how beautiful it looked, she couldn't stay away."
"The highest of compliments," Scorpius said, almost wryly.
"Quite." McGonagall adjusted the glasses on her nose, looking down at the parchment in front of her. "Now. To business. I trust your prefects' meetings are running smoothly?"
The two seventh years nodded.
"And your patrols?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Rose said.
"Good." McGonagall peered at them from over her spectacles, an almost indiscernible smile playing on her lips. "In that case, I don't have much else to say to you. However, will you please inform Mr Blanchett that docking house points from his ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend for — what was it?" She consulted the parchment again. "Oh, yes, 'existing', will not suffice as a reasonable offence."
"Yes, Professor," Rose said, hiding her laugh while Scorpius openly snorted next to her. She felt his eyes on her again, for longer than she was expecting, and the smirk that had turned his mouth upwards faded, and he looked as unsatisfied as ever.
"Do you have any questions?"
They shook their heads.
"Well, then." Their Professor surveyed them again, and Minerva couldn't help but notice something in the room felt…off. "Before you go, I wanted to take the time to thank you both again for your excellent work so far this year. I must say I am quite impressed with the way you two have come together."
Rose coughed and Scorpius blinked.
"Thank you, Professor," he said, finally.
"Yes, thank you," Rose mumbled, staring at her hands as she folded and unfolded them.
"I shan't keep you any longer," McGonagall said. "I shall see the two of you in Transfiguration tomorrow. A very good evening to you both."
They pushed back their chairs, the scraping sounds heavy and uncomfortable as they made their way to the door in silence. Scorpius reached it first and held it open, and it took Rose a second to realise that he was waiting for her to pass through, and she moved under his arm, careful not to touch him in any way.
She took the stairs two at a time, trying not to cringe at the tapping that filled the otherwise silent stairwell. They barely ever walked in silence. And the silence never felt like this.
Regardless, it didn't last long.
"Hungry?" Scorpius asked.
Rose started, and made a little noise of affirmation, cursing that this was the only floor in the entire school that didn't have a bathroom on this corridor.
She didn't know why she didn't just tell him to leave her alone. Well, she sort of did. The imminent question of "What's up with you?" (though because it was Scorpius, it was more likely to be along the lines of "The fuck's up with you, Weasley?") was something she was not willing to go into. It wasn't as if she could tell him that she was mad at him for talking about her behind her back. She couldn't let him think she cared about stuff like that. She didn't care about stuff like that, she hastily corrected herself.
Scorpius' legs were longer than hers, so it didn't take long until they were walking side by side. "Good Christmas?"
That wasn't the only reason, of course. That damn Hogsmeade trip, those damn patrols and that stupid, stupid Ball that Professor Sinistra shouldn't've bothered showing up to complicated things. He had made her smile — laugh, even - made her feel like a girl should feel when a boy was dancing with her, made her feel like she should feel when he wasn't, given her punch and told her that his mum had taught him how to waltz.
And in the end it hadn't meant a damn thing.
She made another noise of vague assent, and this time she spared him the briefest of glances when her curiosity got the better of her. He still wore the same mildly confused expression that had become more and more apparent the longer they had sat in McGonagall's office, and it looked all wrong on his face.
She saw him raise his arm slightly so he could adjust the sleeves of his jumper, and she felt her eyes lose the slightest bit of focus as she remembered that jumper in the dim lights of the dance floor, the blue light making the hunter green look navy, the red light making it look burgundy.
And suddenly it was her turn to avert her stare.
He had at least expected her to say something to him.
He wasn't asking for a monologue; a simple "Hi" would've sufficed. Or a wave. Or something. Anything.
He tried not to fixate on it, but he thought she'd cut him off a bit hastily when he had tried to make conversation as she had arrived — no, not even conversation. He'd just wanted to say "Hello". Then again, they were practically running late, and the conversation wouldn't have come to much anyway since the walk up to McGonagall's office wasn't exactly a long one, and they weren't ones for small talk, they had never been-
But then in McGonagall's office too…It wasn't as if he'd attempted direct conversation with her, but he still had the nagging feeling that she was being strangely….unreceptive.
She hadn't even looked at him. She hadn't had that problem a month ago. Or ever really; she couldn't glare at him if she wasn't looking at him.
Maybe she was just having a bad day. Everyone had bad days.
He cleared his throat, the question he'd wanted to ask her earlier that day echoing in his head. He steeled himself, flattening down the discomfort in his stomach (Nerves? Was it nerves? No, that was ridiculous; Scorpius never got nervous). "Good Christmas?"
She blinked twice, and he could see the line of her jaw working as she studied the floor. She made a small, noncommittal noise, which Scorpius took to mean 'Yes', and then they were back to silence.
Scorpius was beginning to feel intensely uncomfortable. He ran his tongue over his teeth as his brain turned to white noise, and he reached a hand to fiddle with his shirt sleeve. His pride was on its last hinges, and given that he didn't have much left to hold on to, he'd be damned if he was letting that go too.
They only had three floors to cover until they were back on the ground floor, and Scorpius was about to turn and take the last flight of stairs down until the small plaque reading "Males" on the other side of the corridor caught his attention. McGonagall had released them earlier than he had anticipated — it was only just past six, and he and Toby didn't usually eat until at least quarter-past. It was a shit exit, but it was an exit nonetheless.
"Hey-"
"I'm gonna-"
They both froze at the sound of the other's voice, and then the silence surged back in as they each clamped their mouth shut in surprise.
Rose's eyes were wide and she had the vague look of a caged animal. She pointed at the small plaque reading "Females" on the opposite side of the corridor. "I need to use the bathroom."
She tapped her wand in her hand a few times before she suddenly clutched it, and in a short, panicked second, the bathroom door had swung shut behind her with a bang.
Scorpius blinked, his brow knit. Now that was a shit exit.
Rose wasn't often in her old dormitory. The only reason she ever went back up was to fetch Gen for classes or dinner, and that had only happened a few times since she'd left. She and Gen preferred to be in the Heads dorm now, where they could talk in peace, where they wouldn't have to listen to Elizabeth Lawson gossip about her latest hookup and pretend to be even the slightest bit interested (not that a lack of interest ever seem to deter her).
However, here she was, back in her old dorm, sitting on her old bed. It was silly, she thought, that they still kept her empty bed, the sheets pulled halfway down and the pillow bare, but she supposed it was some sort of protocol. It was nice to be back, to be sitting with her old dorm mates as they caught each other up on Christmas stories. She almost wondered why she wasn't here more often.
"So, Rose," Elizabeth said, her voice lowering to a dramatic whisper and her eyebrows waggling. "We all saw you with Conrad Wells at the Christmas Ball. You know, with him."
And now she remembered why.
Gen opened her mouth, but closed it when Rose shot her a look. "Yes, and?"
Her other dormmate, Leanne, let out a giggle. "Get lost under a sprig of mistletoe, did we, Rose?"
She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Leanne."
"So, is that a thing now?" Elizabeth pressed.
Rose laughed a bit uncomfortably, and brought her knees up to her chin. "No, no, I just, um…I'm not sure what came over me, really. Had too much punch I suppose," she joked. Too much punch would've been preferable.
Rose wasn't the spiteful type, and well, really, Conrad had asked her - all she'd done was let him. So why was she feeling so damn guilt-ridden?
"He's pretty cute, Rose," Leanne said, smirking. "You could do a lot worse."
"She could do a lot better," Gen intoned firmly. "Butt out, the both of you."
"You two are no fun," Leanne mumbled, unfolding herself off the bed and jerking her head at the door for Elizabeth to follow. The two of them left, Elizabeth soothing Leanne with a, "You want interesting? I haven't even started on what happened to me over the holidays, remember that guy Ted I told you about…"
"Ignore them," Gen said, sagely. "The longer they're here, the more of their slaggyness gets transferred to us in the air particles."
Rose cracked a weak grin.
"Anyways, they've got it all wrong. Imagine if they found out the real gossip, huh? They'd lose their shit if they knew about you and Malfoy."
"There is no me and Malfoy," Rose said sharply.
Gen's eyebrows raised at her friend's tone. "Whoa, did I miss something? What happened?"
"We came to our senses," Rose said shortly.
"Nuh-uh, Weasley," Gen said, pointing an accusatory finger at her friend. "I've only just been debriefed. Don't make me play catch-up again."
"If I tell you, you might kill him. There's no telling what you'll do with that temper of yours."
Gen crooked an arm on her waist. "And that's now a bad idea to you?"
"I didn't say that."
"Rose."
"We should really get started on our Charms assignment."
"It's not due for two weeks," Gen said, narrowing her eyes, but Rose was already opening her bag and drawing out some parchment, so Gen reluctantly picked up her textbook as well. "Will you tell me after we've done this stupid assignment?" she prodded. "It's the least you can do since you're making me finish this thing two weeks early."
"Two weeks can turn into two days alarmingly quickly," was all Rose had to say on the matter.
"The Wailing Woman," Dolloway announced, tapping his wand on the projector so that an illustration from the textbook materialised on the board, "is a Dark creature native to Ireland and Scotland, sharing what key characteristic with the Mandrake?"
Rose's hand shot up a fraction of a second quicker than Scorpius', and he turned his head in her direction as she answered. "Both are equipped with cries that are fatal to anybody who hears them."
"Precisely. The Wailing Woman, also known as a Banshee, will be the subject of today's lesson. Your task is to split into pairs and produce a concise but comprehensive means of combatting it, taking into account the various advantages and disadvantages of each potential method, and ultimately deciding on the most appropriate."
"What the hell is a Banshee?" the boy behind Scorpius mumbled to his desk partner.
"Dunno," the other boy replied.
Their Defence teacher sighed loudly, and pursed his lips. "The blind leading the blind, it would seem." He shook his head. "We can't have that now, can we? I can see only one solution: random assignment."
There were various groans heard around the room then, and Dolloway raised a hand to silence them, smiling blithely. "We shall do it the old fashioned way, and in my opinion, the best way." He waved his wand and an old and greyed wizard's hat materialised, hanging in the air. "It is very simple. I shall pass around this hat, and you are each to pick your partner's name from it."
He flicked his wand again and the hat obediently floated towards the far end of the front desks, two rows ahead of Scorpius. Scorpius watched with limited interest as each student read aloud their partner's name, though his attention grew with every second that he remained partnerless.
His curbed attention still informed him that her name had not yet been called either, and whilst the thought of having to work with her made his stomach churn, he realised it was an ideal scenario with which to further interrogate her. If anything, it was better to grasp onto that instead of sitting in his seat, his heart thrumming in the cavity of his chest.
The hat came to rest in front of the Head Girl, and she too had the look of a skittish animal, but the hand she stuck out was steady, and she withdrew the scrap of parchment. She scanned the name once, blinked twice, and that was enough.
"Scorpius Malfoy," she said, clearly but emptily, and the hat moved on.
He could feel the brief weight of Toby's gaze as he side-eyed his friend, and he set about gathering his things and grabbing his satchel off the floor. He set his jaw, and strode over, seating himself beside her.
He thought about saying "Hello", but at the moment, he wasn't entirely convinced she was going to say it back. He settled instead on something he knew that she would have to reply to.
"So," Scorpius said, noticing that while Rose's eyes flickered at the sound of his voice, she still kept her gaze stubbornly on the table surface in front of them. "I'm pretty positive that a Laughing Potion is our best bet."
Rose raised an eyebrow, and she folded one of her arms over the other, cupping a hand around one of her elbows. "Well, if you're convinced you'll permanently have one on your person…"
"The question isn't whether or not we'll be equipped with the potion," Scorpius pointed out, cocking his head slightly when Rose still stared unwaveringly ahead. "It only asks which is the best method of combatting a Banshee. You alright, Weasley?"
She finally lifted her gaze and met his eyes. "If you'd rather be complacent about it, you can stick with the potion you probably wouldn't have on you, and I'll choose something else-"
"That doesn't seem to be very cooperative," Scorpius interrupted, entirely aware that she had neglected to answer his question.
"Not your strong suit, is it?"
"I'm very open to suggestions, one which you have yet to offer, may I point out-"
"Well, if you're so set on your potion I can't see what difference it would make-"
"I insist-"
"You'll only resent me for it, I can already tell-"
"Weasley," Scorpius managed through gritted teeth. "If there's something you want to say, spit it out."
"Oh, are we all for sharing now? Tell me, what prompted this spontaneous character change-"
"Professor," Scorpius said loudly, not taking his eyes off his partner. "Miss Weasley isn't feeling very well. With your permission, I'd like to escort her to the Hospital Wing."
And scarcely without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her by the arm, gripped her schoolbag in his other hand, and pulled her out of the room. The minute the door closed behind them, her mouth shot open in protest, but Scorpius, spying the bathroom doors to their right, immediately dragged her into the men's room with him.
"What the fuck is up with you, Weasley?" he demanded, letting go of her. "You've been acting like an absolute pain since we've been back and the least you could do is explain why."
"I cannot believe you kidnapped me," Rose snapped instead. "I'm going back to class, you can stay here and wallow by yourself-"
"Not fucking likely," Scorpius snarled, catching her by the arm he had just released; she immediately tore it away. "Come on, then, just tell me why you've been behaving like a stubborn brat, and I'll be happy to be rid of you."
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Scorpius could feel an angry heat spreading throughout his body, and he clenched his fists, wondering when he had switched his efforts from fighting with Rose Weasley to trying his damndest to maintain some sort of peace with her.
Her eyes narrowed. "Let's play the Scorpius Malfoy philosophy game: I don't owe you anything, remember?"
He hadn't meant it. Not really. It was just a jibe; something that had come off his tongue as they danced, and he remembered their dance now. The memory of it made him inexplicably angrier.
His tongue pushed against his teeth, and he bit down on it. Maturity was vastly overrated. "Damn you, Weasley! My care is waning. Tell me what's wrong, or shut the hell up!"
"Wrack that famous brain of yours, Malfoy!" Rose seethed, her face flushed with anger. "Wrack it until your head bloody bleeds!"
"Fuck you, Weasley," he growled, and he could feel his composure unravelling rapidly, though that didn't seem to matter now.
"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy," she spat. "Go and fuck yourself silly."
"Maybe I will!"
"I'm counting on it!"
With one last venomous look, she spun around and stalked towards the bathroom door.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going now?!"
She angled her head around to face him, and wrenched her bag back onto her shoulder. "The Hospital Wing. I'm not feeling well, remember?"
The door slammed behind her.
Rose did find herself in the Hospital Wing in the end.
She was still tense and furious from being dragged out of class into the men's bathroom, and her plan to avoid Scorpius at all costs had failed tremendously. Her head throbbed and she felt warm all over, but lying in a hospital bed did little for any of that. Pomfrey had offered her a Calming Draught to relieve her headache, but she didn't think she had the sort of ailment that any kind of medicine could cure.
Reluctant to go back to class, she stayed in the sanctuary of the Wing, staring outside as the last rays of afternoon light filtered in from the window. It wouldn't last long. She picked up her schoolbag and fumbled around in it for a book.
As soon as the bell rang, signalling the school day had ended, she thanked the nurse and headed down to the birch tree by the lake, Accio'ing her coat, hat and gloves out of her open window as she did so. It was a bitterly cold day, and though she was almost entirely covered from head to toe, she shivered and rubbed her hands over her coat sleeves. The only upside of such cold weather was that it would deter people from being outside.
In theory, anyway.
A few of the younger students were taking advantage of the snow and were building a snowman, whilst several others were engaged in a rather rowdy snowball fight. Rose sighed and picked her way past them - and her favourite spot by the frozen lake - and instead wandered down to the Quidditch pitch, hoping the fresh air and silence would do her some good.
She had left the Hospital Wing at half three, and now the sun had all but disappeared. She sighed again, wisps of condensation swirling in front of her. She had walked all the way down to the pitch, and now what? Realising she didn't want to turn back, she continued to walk until she had reached the higher section of the stands, and she sat, surrounded by darkness. She supposed she could cast the Lumos charm, but she didn't much fancy reading by wand light. She stowed her book.
It was quiet enough, and she was completely alone. She held up her watch a few inches away from her face, squinting as she struggled to read the watch hands. At the end of last term, she and Scorpius had arranged a prefects' meeting before dinner, so she still had almost two hours to kill before she had to leave.
She had been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes, stretched out on the benches when she heard it.
Something heavy was being dragged across the grass, thumping and groaning as it caught the ground and then bounced back onto it. Rose sat up straight, narrowing her eyes as she craned forward. It was the Quidditch chest that housed the balls, and someone was heaving it down to the pitch. Rose wondered why the person didn't simply levitate the thing.
She heard a grunt, and she couldn't see much from the stands, but in a few more moments, the figure had taken to the air, and stopped, hovering in front of the goalposts furthest away from her. She watched as blue flames exited the caster's wand, wrapping themselves around the centre post until the entire hoop shone blue. Soon after, the other two were lit as well.
Rose knew by the first hoop; she would recognise that blonde head of hair anywhere.
Her chest seized in panic, an iron hand clenching like a vice, and she knew she needed to get out of there before he could spot her. But she couldn't. She had no way of knowing which way he'd fly next, and she'd rather spend two hours cowering beneath the stands than to be seen by him.
Scorpius lobbed the Quaffle through the goalposts before zooming over to the other side to catch it as it fell, and he repeated this, over and over, flying so quickly Rose wondered if he might accidentally propel himself straight into the posts. He looked like a falcon, she thought. A sleek and deadly falcon plummeting through the sky.
She watched as he flew back down to the ground, and a shred of hope seeded up inside her at the thought that he might be leaving, but it was shot down immediately when she heard the soft but giveaway rattle of the chains that held the Bludgers. Besides, he wouldn't leave the blue flames on the goalposts. That just didn't seem like something he would do.
Suddenly, the Bludger was bathed in a similar blue light, and off it went, spinning and racking in the air. In the next moment the other one had joined it, the two of them crackling and bowling as they soared around the pitch.
Brilliant.
Rose hid her face in her hands, the gravity of the situation finally weighing down on her. Escape was damn near impossible now; those stupid things were cutting a trail whizzing about in the air, and she had no idea which way they could be flying. If they got close, it would be enough to illuminate her face, and he would know. And then she'd look like an absolute prat.
Or worse, Rose thought in another moment of sheer panic, what if the Bludgers could somehow sense another human presence, and they turned their attention on her? What in Merlin's good name would she do then? She supposed she could just blow them up, but she didn't know how she would explain that to McGonagall when the time came. I'm ever so sorry, Professor, it's just that I was sitting in the stands minding my own business when Scorpius Malfoy arrived, flying around the pitch like a raving lunatic, and he let loose the Bludgers, and one of them was aiming to bash my face in, you see, so I sort of blew it up. But don't worry, I'll buy you another one.
He was a lunatic, Rose thought bitterly. A reckless, deranged lunatic. It would serve him right if he crashed face first into the ground.
As much as she drummed that mantra into her head, her heart raced every time he rocketed down, expelling a sigh when, at the last possible moment, he pulled out of the dive and shot back into the air.
She heard a loud crack as bat met Bludger again, and Scorpius had hit it so hard that she could hear it whistling as it spun away, before it recovered and careened back over to him. For what seemed an eternity that was all she could hear; the severe smack of the bat as it struck both Bludgers in an endless cycle, stirring the evening air and rallying the owls.
Scorpius had no idea how long he'd been on the Quidditch pitch for.
His arm felt like it was on fire, but somehow it only served to fuel his anger more, and he became so accustomed to the pain that he almost forgot what it was like to play without it.
He had put away one of the Bludgers when he had felt himself really tiring; he didn't need a full-blown injury on top of everything that was going on. But the other ball was still going strong — again and again he attacked it, and he wondered which one of them might give up first.
He would've stayed there all night, taking out his anger on that stupid, stubborn ball of iron - because sometimes you really just needed to hit something - but once when he raised his wrist to meet the ball, the blue flames flickered across the face of his watch, and some small part of him dutifully counted down the minutes until he would be forced to leave his safe haven and head back into the castle to marshall the prefects' meeting.
His reluctance to leave meant that by the time he had wrestled the Bludger back into its case, he had ten minutes until the meeting was due to begin. He wouldn't have time to shower. He levitated the chest beside him, raising his wand and muttering a Cleaning spell over his body, feeling rather than seeing soapy suds rise and then sink back into his skin. That would have to do.
He put the chest away inside the Quidditch shed, quickening his pace as he made his way through the empty grounds and back into the castle, feeling oddly calm despite the predictably excruciating half-hour ahead.
Well, at least until he arrived back into the Entrance Hall.
Any and all amounts of anger that had become dormant during his time on the Quidditch pitch came back in full force as he passed the open doors to the Great Hall - stupid doors they should've closed for dinner - seeping back into him so strongly it felt like his blood was on fire.
Did she have a fucking clue? Where was that fucking brain everyone was always going on about? Did she not realise that things had, at least in his eyes, changed between them? Was the girl blind? They had danced together not once, which could've been considered an accident, not twice, but three fucking times.
She had no fucking clue.
He rolled out his shoulder as he walked, and the pain had lost its satisfying edge — it was now just another thing for Scorpius to be really fucking annoyed about. Two hours later and all he had to show for it was a fucking twinging arm.
Fuck Quidditch. Fuck Bludgers. Fuck her.
He caught sight of himself in the windows of the classrooms as he passed by. His hair was windswept and haphazard, his face flushed and his eyes unnervingly bright, alert. He looked like an absolute mental case. It was a good thing he was so damn good looking.
He turned into the Transfiguration classroom with two minutes to spare, noticing Albus and Genevieve straight away, not because he wanted to - it was just because they were seated conveniently in his eyeline - and he pressed his lips together in a strained line. Fucking coward.
Al met his eyes and raised a hand in greeting, and yeah, that was something, but it only made him even more certain that he hadn't done anything wrong and it only reminded him that she was mad at him for no reason, and she was stubborn and infuriating and petty and childish and she drove him up the fucking wall, and if she didn't walk into the room in the next ten seconds he would call it a night and bloody well leave this stupid meeting too.
Toby waved at him from his spot near the back, his eyes narrowed as he took in his best friend's appearance, but at Scorpius' minute twitch of his head, he dropped his gaze and resumed talking to the girl next to him. Scorpius turned around to face the blackboard behind him, raking in a series of deep, furious breaths before abandoning that completely and instead glaring at the offending clock at the front of the room that blared for all to see that their Head Girl was now late.
And if that wasn't just the cherry on the fucking rotten cake.
Scorpius' tangible anger at least had one perk: the second the clock struck five thirty, the room went so silent he could hear the clock hands ticking. He revelled in the silence for a moment before he exhaled.
"Right," he said, his voice cool and just a touch above his usual volume, "I think we should make a start."
A number of the students shifted uncomfortably, casting quick glances at each other. Scorpius sighed. Now he had to go ahead and clean up all of her stupid messes too, and she didn't deserve an ounce of that-
The door was flung open and Rose raced in, her slightly laboured breathing the only noise in the entire room.
For one second, for one fraction of the teeniest second Scorpius caved, because she looked as exhausted and spent as he did, but then she turned her eyes on him, and they were stonier than ever.
If she wanted to go back to how they were before, she could be his fucking guest.
"Ah," he sneered, his voice grating in the silence. "Our Head Girl has been kind enough to join us." The sound of his voice, barbed as needles, had lost all of the subtle teasing edge that had far too quickly become habit for him when he spoke to her now, and the familiarity of it somehow seemed to lighten the weight in his stomach. It was as if he was running on autopilot again, the words coming out of him like a muscle memory, and that was good. His brain had done enough already.
Rose's eyes narrowed even further as he spoke, but she said nothing as she took her place at the front of the room, the space between them awkward and heavy. It was only then that Scorpius noticed that she was as flushed and windswept as he was, if not more so. She looked like she'd run a mile. His eyebrow crooked suspiciously as she hastily ran a hand through her hair, patting it down and brushing out the tangles.
He couldn't remember the last time she had looked so disarranged. Okay, no, that was a lie. The startling image of her dancing in the club, her hair messy, but nonetheless attractive - maybe it was the most attractive he'd ever seen her - and her cheeks glowing pink replayed in his mind, her laughing face the worst part of the entire thing.
God fucking dammit.
He heard a small voice whispering amongst the stillness, and his voice rang out loud and sharp as he addressed the speaker. "Oi, Wells, shut your bloody trap."
He didn't care how Conrad responded to that, but Rose made a small disgruntled noise beside him, and he angled himself away until she had disappeared from his line of vision. He rubbed a hand through his hair, his aching arm protesting as he did so. "Right. Let's get this over with."
Rose felt like her life was slipping back into normalcy by the next day. It was almost relieving now that he was mad at her too, because then she didn't have to worry about him trying to talk to her, or look at her with that annoyingly confused expression that didn't belong on his face and how it made her feel wretched and even angrier all at once.
She waved at Will as he walked in through the library doors; he raised a cautious arm back, and she self-consciously tried to remember what it usually felt like to smile — was she smiling normally?
Will plopped his bag on the floor as he sat down. "Sorry I'm late."
This smile came easier. "You're two minutes early, Will."
"Oh."
"So how was your Christmas?"
Will bent down to extract his textbook and parchment from his bag. "It was nice. Just, normal family stuff, you know?" He shrugged. "Nothing special. How was yours?" he added politely.
Rose cracked a grin. "You know, normal family stuff. Though one of my cousins finally started showing signs of magic." She laughed. "Ten years of nothing, and then on Christmas Day she blows up the entire turkey when my grandma refused to change the colour of the sweater she knitted for her."
Will smiled somewhat sheepishly. "I took ages too…my mum thought I might've been a Squib." He cleared his throat. "How was the um…dance? I saw the Great Hall on the morning. You did a really nice job."
Rose tried not to sour at the memory. "Eventful," she said. "And eye-opening."
"I heard you went with Conrad Wells."
"I did." Rose didn't know why she felt she needed to explain herself to a twelve-year-old, but she did it anyway. "It was just a one-time thing, though. I'm not, um...you know, with him or anything."
"Oh, I know."
Rose raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You do?"
Will nodded as if the answer was obvious. "You're much too interesting for him."
She had to smile at that. "So, how's Charms going?"
"We had a reviewing class," Will said, his eyes lighting up. "Where we had to perform a Severing charm, and I did it! My very first try!"
"I knew you could," Rose said, beaming. She raised her hand for a high-five, and, after staring at her hand for a moment, Will lifted his own and tapped it very lightly against hers.
"What are you doing now?"
Will bit his lip. "The Arresto Momentum Duo charm. It's hard."
Rose gave him a reassuring smile. "That's what I'm here for. How did your last assignment go?"
Will bent again and pulled it out of his bag, slightly crinkled. "Professor Flitwick said I was just off an O."
"That's great, Will!" Rose studied his assignment, checking over Flitwick's annotations. "So he wants a stronger conclusion, huh? More real-life application-Will?"
Her tutee jumped, moving his gaze away from the doorway, and back to Rose. "Oh! Sorry!" Almost as if he couldn't help it, he lifted his gaze beyond them again.
Rose shifted slightly in her chair, following his stare. Her lips curved into a small smile when she saw a young Slytherin girl at the library's entrance, a small little blonde thing with big, doe-like eyes.
Will was slowly but steadily turning the colour of a ripe tomato, and Rose had to choke down her laughter. He lowered his head, suddenly engrossed in reviewing his homework.
"She's lucky," Rose told him. "I don't remember the last time any guy reacted to seeing me that way. Or if any of them ever did."
"Of course they did," Will said, matter-of-factly. "You're Rose Weasley."
"You say that like it should mean something," Rose said hollowly. The last she heard, her companionship was worth nothing more than the avoided stress of having to fight with her. Then again, who gave a damn about what Scorpius Malfoy thought of her? She certainly didn't.
"If you don't know," Will said with an unfathomable expression, and Rose had noticed that his face had calmed to a soft pink, "then I'll let you find out on your own."
Rose blinked at the young boy sitting next to her before reaching over to pull his new assignment towards her to read. She scanned through it for a minute, though her tutee's face was still in her peripheral. "So," she said, when she realised that Will's determined expression had nothing to do with the homework at hand, but rather to do with forcing himself to avoid looking back up to where the little blonde girl had sat down in plain view of them. "Who is she?"
"Who's who?" Will mumbled, the tips of his ears going pink.
Rose laughed quietly. "It's alright, Will. I won't ask if it'll make you uncomfortable."
She continued to read in silence, and just as she was about to open the second year Charms textbook, Will spoke from beside her. "She's in my Charms and Herbology classes."
Rose glanced at him, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Do you two talk a lot?"
Will flushed. "I don't think she wants to talk to me."
"Why not?" Rose asked in surprise, her brow lined.
Will seemed to hunker down in his chair, his eyes downcast. "She's really cool. And I'm, well…she just wouldn't ever talk to me."
"You'll never know if you don't try," Rose said in a comforting voice. "What do you have to lose?"
"It's easy for you to say," Will mumbled. "You've never had that problem."
"Will," Rose said emphatically as she thumbed through the textbook. "I don't know what idea you have in your head about the kind of person I am, but I'm fairly sure it's inaccurate." She considered. "Or outdated, at least." Fifth year, or even sixth year Rose Weasley had been sensible, she thought to herself. She didn't waste her time and energy with unfeeling, unrepentant and arrogant Head Boys, getting roped into clubbing trips during work weekends, and then allowing herself to get further roped into dancing with those same unfeeling, unrepentant and arrogant Head Boys at Christmas Balls.
Fifth year Rose Weasley would be rolling in her grave.
As she raised her head from the book, she caught a glimpse of the young girl again, who, to her surprise, was sneaking a glance in Rose's direction. Well, a few inches left of Rose, to be precise. She caught the Head Girl watching her with veiled interest, and blinked before snapping her head down and furiously scribbling on her parchment. Rose side-eyed Will; he was looking at his hands, tapping his wand in his fingers. She hid her smile.
"Will," she said, firmly. "I think you should talk to her."
"Can't we just get on with my homework?" Will pleaded. "The more time I spend thinking about her, the more time I end up wasting."
"Will!" Rose scolded. "No one should be as cynical as you are at your age. You have years and years to lose your faith in love."
"Have you?" her tutee asked quietly.
"Perhaps we should get on with your homework."
"What should I say?"
"What?" Rose asked, momentarily confused.
"To Emmeline."
Rose pulled in one side of her mouth in thought. "Well, you should be nice to her, for starters. I don't know where that whole be-mean-to-girls-you-like thing began, but it's very confusing and wholly ineffective."
"But I thought that's what girls know," Will said, furrowing his brow. "That if a boy is mean to her, he probably likes her."
"Or maybe he's just mean," Rose said flatly. "Take it from me. You're much better off just being truthful from the start. You wouldn't want to, oh, I don't know, lure her into a false sense of security and wait until she's, oh, maybe changing her mind about you and thinking, Huh, maybe he's not such a pigheaded arsehole anymore, and maybe he'll even dance with you, but then he turns around and he's not only what you thought he was before, he's actually worse, which you didn't know was even possible," she finished with a huff.
There were a few moments of silence.
"Rose?"
She brusquely moved away the hair that had fallen over her eye mid-spiel. "Yes?"
"Can we start my homework now?"
It was her turn to go pink, and she nodded before shaking her head slightly. "Right. Um…page sixty-five, was it?"
As she turned to find the page, Will tossed the white feather on the table into the air, and raised his wand, muttering, "Arresto Momentum Duo." The feather hovered in the air for a moment, before continuing its fall onto the table. Will sighed, and picked it up again.
"Hey, Will?"
"Yes, Rose?"
"I think you're super cool."
The young boy said nothing, but when he muttered the spell again, the feather stayed where it was, obstinate in its refusal to fall.
"For fuck's sake, what are you doing here, Weasley?"
Rose returned his glare in kind as they met in the middle of the corridor. "Grow up, Malfoy. We both signed on for this knowing fully well we'd have to put up with each other."
Scorpius crossed his arms. "True, but I wasn't expecting Pomfrey to have kept you on for so long. I was sure she'd've found a way to be rid of you by the first week-"
"Oh, give me a break-"
"Ever heard the phrase 'three's a crowd'?"
Rose began to walk down the corridor, her head angling slightly when she heard him follow behind. "You're more than welcome to go away if you're worried about overcrowding; Pomfrey and I can handle this ourselves."
"I need to make sure you don't kill anyone." He paused, deliberating. "Not that I really care if you do. I just want to witness your fall from grace."
Rose turned on him, her eyes cold. "You deserve every bit of what you get, don't you, Malfoy?"
Something about the way she said it unnerved Scorpius, like there was something especially important there; it was on the tip of his tongue. Where had he heard that before?
"If you mean top grades, Quidditch Captainship, devilishly handsome good looks, not to mention my Head Boy title, then, yes. I would say I deserve what I get."
They continued to bicker as they made their way down the corridor, and Rose got in one more "Fuck you, Malfoy," before they each pushed open one half of the double doors and fell silent.
Pomfrey looked up as they arrived. "Ah, Miss Weasley, Mr Malfoy."
Rose and Scorpius blinked at the seemingly healthy boy sitting on the foot of one of the hospital beds, partially concealing the girl behind him. "This absolute buffoon has admitted to pouring a love potion into this girl's drink — a dare from his friends, he says. Such games are absolutely deplorable if you ask me, not to mention what I would qualify as grounds for expulsion ("Oh, lighten up, Madam Pomfrey!"). She is, as you might have expected, absolutely infatuated with him."
"I love you, Asher," the girl crooned, as if to top off Pomfrey's speech, the bed rustling as she fidgeted.
"If you don't mind my asking," Rose said, uncertainly. "How come we're not just waiting for the effects to wear off?"
Asher muttered something under his breath, and when Pomfrey shot him another death glare he cowered.
"That is an excellent question, Miss Weasley," she said, puffing herself up to her full height. "It seems Mr. Cromwell has managed to-"
"Profit from the brains behind Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?" Scorpius finished dryly. He inclined his head as Pomfrey turned around to sternly berate the still crooning girl behind her. The girl who, he happened to notice, had both of her hands handcuffed to the frame of the hospital bed. "Ironic, isn't it, Weasley?" he whispered, smugly. "Cleaning up daddy's mess?"
"I hate you," Rose hissed back.
The nurse turned back around to face them, and the two Heads quickly rearranged their expressions into more neutral ones.
"As Mr Malfoy has correctly surmised, Mr. Cromwell attained his love potion from the Weasley joke shop and I'm afraid there's no time limit on its effects."
"Yikes," Rose murmured softly.
Scorpius frowned. "There is, however, an antidote," he said, though it sounded like a question.
Pomfrey's face took on a somewhat ugly hue and she turned to face Asher again, her hands crooked on her hips. "Would you like to explain to Mr Malfoy why we cannot use the antidote to cure Miss Bennett?"
Asher raised a hand to scratch at his hair. "I uh…misplaced it," he said, sheepishly. From behind him, the girl continued to pull against her restraints, her face scrunched up in anguish.
"So I'm guessing we need to brew a new antidote?" Rose finally asked.
Pomfrey nodded. "The only one I am aware of is a stronger version of the antidote for the Amortentia potion, but it is extremely difficult to make. I was hoping the two of you could be of assistance."
Scorpius cleared his throat. "At least it won't take too long."
Pomfrey clicked her tongue. "Mercifully. It should only take an hour or so."
Scorpius was tempted to ask her why she didn't simply brew the potion herself, but it occurred to him that he was most likely a better potions brewer than she was, and he thought she might know that. He didn't want to admit it, but the girl beside him was probably better than her as well. They made, unfortunately, a rather perfect pair.
"I'd imagine you have sufficient experience with love potion antidotes," Rose said in an undertone.
"Oh, I don't need potions," Scorpius replied, undeterred. He nodded downwards, smirking. "Magic's all right here."
"You are so unworthy of your badge!" Rose hissed as Pomfrey moved away to fetch the trolley filled with ingredients.
"Why?" Scorpius bit back, just as spitefully. "Because they only give them out to prudes like you?"
Rose opened her mouth to retort but Pomfrey's return distracted her. Her eyes ran over the ingredients on the trolley. Scorpius studied her, wondering if she had brewed the potion before. He had - not that he had actually ever needed a love potion antidote - and his fingers itched as he realised that the ball was in his court now; he was going to send it back over to her with so much force her head would spin.
The session wasn't as painful as Rose was expecting.
Pomfrey was still in the room with them (though she was attending to other students a ways away) so they couldn't exactly dissolve into a shouting match, especially with sick students around. Also - and Rose had noticed this over the years - Scorpius always seemed far more reluctant to fight with her during Potions, as if she was a distraction he didn't much want.
Rose was good at Potions; she was Head Girl, she was good at everything. But still. Brewing potions with Scorpius was nerve-wracking, especially when it wasn't one she'd ever brewed before, or ever even seen made. She didn't know if he'd made it already, but with Scorpius that didn't really matter; first or hundredth time, the damn thing would be perfect.
As she turned around to grab the castor oil behind her, she caught sight of Asher as he descended closer towards Jade's face, and she barked his name. "Don't you dare."
He angled his face to look at her, his eyebrows raised in innocence. "She wants me to."
Scorpius made an unsatisfied noise. "I'm not even going to dignify that nor you with an answer."
Rose's eyes flicked in his direction, but he was still scrutinising the textbook as he stirred.
They worked in silence (with the exception of Jade's incessant cooing) for a few minutes before Rose heard footsteps behind her, and she tensed as she could discern the near silent smell of breathing behind her.
"This looks complicated."
"It is," she replied shortly. "And it's all your fault, by the way."
Asher ignored that and wandered a few steps over to where Scorpius was standing over the cauldron, and he pointed into it. "What are those?"
"You are to stand at least five feet away from this cauldron," Scorpius said sternly, not bothering to look up. "You have a distinctively clumsy air about you, not to mention stupid."
"What?"
"I don't want you getting 'stupid' in my potion."
"Our potion," Rose interjected sharply.
"If you say so."
Rose rolled her eyes, and leaned over to look inside the cauldron, and, noticing it was now the colour specified in the textbook, poured in the castor oil.
"What is he still doing here?" Scorpius muttered, jerking his head towards Asher, his dissatisfaction evident.
Rose scoffed. "I'm pretty sure the minute Jade loses sight of him she'll scream her bloody head off."
"I tried," Asher said.
"Don't leeeeeeeave!" Jade warbled from the bed. "Don't leeeeeave me."
"Go tell her a story or something," Rose said, pinching her temple. "Try and get her to shut up, will you?"
As Asher drifted away, Scorpius added in the Gurdyroot. "We only have two minutes to add the Wiggentree twigs after this dissolves," he said, tapping the textbook. "I think it best if I do it."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rose bristled, glaring at him.
"I mean, if we want this added in two minutes, it's best if I do it."
"You're stirring, I'll do it."
"I don't want to risk this potion on your word-"
Scorpius reached over for the twigs at the same time Rose did, and their hands collided, and one of them - or maybe both - knocked over the jar of Camphi, and the colourless gas seeped out, filling the air with the smell of rusty sandalwood.
"Contain it!" Scorpius snapped, hurrying to screw the lid back onto the jar.
Rose flicked her wand and the air shimmered as the gas was sucked into it, and then it and the smell disappeared.
She let out a deep breath and braced her hands on the trolley.
"You almost fucked us up there," Scorpius said after a few moments.
For all of two seconds Rose thought he might've decided not to be a spiteful git, but of course, he hastened to correct her. "It was your fault," she said, harshly. "If you'd only let me do the twigs, that wouldn't have happened-"
"I said I was going to do it, but of course you didn't listen, as usual-"
"It was your hand that knocked it, not mine-"
"Why must you ruin everything, Weasley?" he suddenly seethed. He seemed to regret it and hastily looked over to where they had last seen Pomfrey, but she had retreated back into her office.
"Me?" Rose said incredulously. "You're the one who ruins things! I thought we were getting along for a little while and then you had to go ahead and-" She cut off immediately, clamping her mouth shut.
"What?" Scorpius demanded, seemingly abandoning the potion as he dropped the thermometer he was using to stir and faced her full on. "What, Weasley? What fucking changed, huh? Why'd you suddenly go all bipolar on me?"
"You're just going to stand there all innocent and pretend you don't know-"
They were cut off as Jade gave an earsplitting wail when Asher bent down to retrieve the chocolate frog she had thrown at him, temporarily disappearing from her line of vision. Her screams attracted the nurse's attention, and Pomfrey reappeared. From beside her, Scorpius took the opportunity to add in the twigs. Rose's head snapped back and she opened her mouth in displeasure when she noticed that the Gurdyroot had fully dissolved. She closed her mouth again and set it into a thin line, watching him work in silence.
"Madam Pomfrey," Scorpius called once the two minutes had ended. "It's ready."
The nurse hurried over, lifting her glasses down to her nose and inspecting it. "Excellent work," she praised. "It looks perfect. I am exceedingly grateful to the both of you. I shall be sure to let Professor McGonagall know of your work here. I can manage now."
They walked out in silence, the Hospital Doors shutting with a prominent thud, and then they were alone.
It only took a moment for Scorpius to tsk at her. "It's a good thing I was there to do that, huh?"
"Will you just let it go?" Rose cried, and the volume that she spoke caught Scorpius off guard. "God, I can't believe for a second I — I…ugh." She made a strangled sort of noise as she pressed her hands to the sides of her head.
"You what?" Scorpius challenged, his voice too echoing throughout the corridor as he matched hers.
"Nothing," Rose snapped.
"Coward."
Rose's hands were by her side in an instant, and she turned on him, inflamed. "Merlin, you never fucking learn, do you? You just keep going around acting like an entitled, self-absorbed little boy, and you never learn. You deserve every bit of-" Her expression soured even further, but she pressed her mouth tightly shut. She shook her head violently at him, her face almost contorted with frustration. "Just…just fucking leave me the hell alone, alright? I'm so done."
Scorpius' eyes had widened as she spoke, and now they narrowed so far they were tapered to near slits. "Oh, you're pissed? You have no fucking right, Weasley." Scorpius stepped closer, close enough that Rose had to incline her head to meet his vicious gaze. "How long did you know, huh?"
Rose was quickly losing her patience. "Know what?"
"That my girlfriend — ex-girlfriend — was cheating on me."
She froze. "What?"
"You heard me." It was hard to see past the anger, but she thought he looked inappropriately smug with his choice of leverage. "You knew, didn't you?"
"Wha-how did you-?"
"I deserve better, do I?"
The words that Rose had spoken in a sort of mercy were violently flung back at her. Memories of their night at Hogsmeade temporarily clouded her mind so that the dancing boy who held her with his warm, callused hands was standing before her. She savagely expelled them.
She braced her hands on his chest, and roughly pushed him back. "Well, what did you expect? We're not fucking friends or anything! I suppose it's just easier to get along with me than to not, right?"
Scorpius looked stunned.
"Sound familiar?"
A shadow seemed to pass over Scorpius' face.
"Fuck, that's why you're pissed?" he growled, furious. "You're acting like a little brat because your feelings are hurt? Oh, well, I'm sorry to break it to you, Weasley, but you and I were never friends. Never."
"Then what were we?!"
Scorpius levelled his gaze at her, and while his cold expression gave nothing away, if she had listened closely, she would've heard the skittering beat of his heart as it began to free fall. "We weren't anything."
"Bullshit!" Rose couldn't remember a time when she had felt so angry, so fucking hurt. And it was worse than whatever she'd felt before, because she didn't want to be hurt, she didn't want any of this. She didn't want anything to do with him.
"Bullshit how?" He was looking at her as if she was a child he was humouring, and she wanted to punch that pretty face of his in.
"Don't try and pretend like you didn't care, because you did-"
"Sweet fucking Merlin, Weasley, you think I care about you now? Are you absolutely delusional?"
"Damn it, Malfoy." Her breath came out through gritted teeth, her voice a near whisper, and a twisted smile had worked its way across her face. She felt manic; she had no idea if it showed. "Don't you care about anything?"
She realised that she couldn't care less no matter what he ended up saying, and she turned away from him then, crossed the length of the corridor in mere seconds, and was already halfway down the next before she took her next breath.
Scorpius stood in that empty corridor as he watched her go, a sudden numbness making his shaking hands go cold.
I try not to, he thought colourlessly to himself as the sound of her footsteps faded away. Because as soon as you care, you're fucked.
A/N:
Ah, I've missed writing these two this way. As always, thank you to everyone for taking the time out to read and review this fic - I know I don't reply to reviews, but I read every single one and squeal out loud every time I get a notification that a new one has been posted :P Sorry it took me a while to get this chapter out — I'll try and get back on track with quicker updates. This chapter is even longer than the last one, no idea how that happened :P Chapter titles come from Bon Jovi's Dead or Alive and The Killers' All These Things That I've Done, and I have to say, this chapter gave me so much grief when it came to choosing the first title. Other strong contenders were: "Welcome to Your Life" from Tears For Fears' Everybody Wants to Rule the World, "I Try Twice As Hard and I'm Half as Liked" from Fun's Some Nights, and "Let's See How Far We've Come" from Matchbox Twenty's How Far We've Come.
~ Rach
P.S. Sorry that some of the formatting for the paragraph breaks are fucking up :( It's annoying me too.