The hospital wing was mercifully quiet. Pre-season Quidditch games weren't usually so brutal, and aside from a fourth year Ravenclaw who came and went with an Invigoration Draught, there were seemingly no other injuries on-pitch besides Scorpius himself.
Albus flagged down Madam Pomfrey, who was busy taking inventory of her remaining draught stocks. She took one look at their trio - with Scorpius gingerly holding his injured shoulder, Rose carrying his broom over her shoulder, and Al looking as frazzled but jubilant as usual - and barely suppressed a sigh, before abandoning her clipboard and quill at her desk.
"Mr Malfoy," she smiled thinly, tottering over. "Mr Potter, and Miss Granger-Weasley. Another Quidditch injury?"
Al laughed, and fiddled with his glasses. Rose clammed up and wouldn't meet Pompfrey's eyes. Although they hadn't previously visited the hospital wing in this particular formation, Scorpius and Rose were equally familiar with Madam Pomfrey as a result of their tumultuous Quidditch careers. Albus caused enough mischief in the hospital wing for Pomfrey to become as equally disdainful as she was fond of him.
"Just a scrape with a bludger." Scorpius provided, lying through his teeth about the severity of the hit. "Not that bad, really."
Al rolled his eyes before loitering off towards Pomfrey's potions cabinet. "Come off it. Nearly took him off his broom."
Pomfrey side-eyed him as he went. "You're more than welcome to investigate my stock, Mr Potter, for educational purposes- but should I find even a vial out of place it'll be detention for a week! And you, Miss Weasley- what have we said about restraining from shattering bones with those bludger hits of yours?"
The sound of Al tinkering away with glass and vial racks was completely drowned out by Rose's squawk of indignation. "Hardly! Slytherin played Ravenclaw today, it wasn't me!" She huffed, flushing an impressive shade of red. "Besides, it was Carrow. Aiming for keepers is redundant, anyway."
"Oh, of course it is." Pomfrey mused, smiling ruefully. She reached for her wand and gestured to Scorpius. "Alright then, let's see that shoulder."
He realised that meant peeling off most of his Quidditch gear. Reluctantly, he stepped down from his stool, refusing to look anywhere but the ceiling as he started unclipping his elbow pads- if only McLaggen hadn't been blocking the showers, then at least he could've cleaned himself up a bit before being subjected to an inspection. As soon as he started fiddling with the clasps on his cloak, Rose unceremoniously dropped his broom onto a nearby bed. "I'm going to- make sure Albus doesn't touch anything he shouldn't," she declared, that scarlet flush never leaving her cheeks.
Albus looked up in confusion as Rose strode over, then he grinned and whistled with his fingers. "Looking good, Scor!" He jeered as Scorpius resumed undressing. Rose slapped his hand away from a blue-tinted bottle. Scorpius shook his head at him, fondly.
"Please don't kick them out." He quietly pleaded with the matron. He stopped holding his breath and dropped his equipment on the bed, next to his broom. When he pulled his jumper and undershirt up, Pomfrey immediately began shaking her head.
"Just a scrape, he says," she fussed, brows furrowed. Deep lines carved worry into her forehead. "You're the opposite of your father in his youth, did you know that?"
Scorpius bit back a defensive quip. "Always had the suspicion," he relented.
"I imagine so," Pomfrey gave him a once over, examining the clusters of black and purple that blossomed over his shoulder and across into the valley of his clavicle. She pointed her wand at the bruising and traced it through the air. "Nothing a quick spell and a Wiggenweld won't fix."
Someone knocks on the door, and Scorpius cranes his neck to see the Head of Gryffindor carrying a leafy Dittany plant across the wing. "Sorry to interrupt, Madam," Professor Longbottom smiles apologetically, "but I'm here to drop off that Dittany you requested, and to pick up Miss Granger-Weasley."
"How many times have I told you, Neville- call me Poppy, now." Pomfrey titters with a fond smile.
Something clatters at the back of the room. Albus closes the potions cabinet with a guilty look on his face. His guilt quickly evaporates upon spotting Neville.
"Uncl- Professor!" He grins, distracting the professors from whatever he broke with his contagious excitement.
"Professor." Rose frowns, looking rather deflated.
Professor Longbottom leaves the Dittany on Madam Pomfrey's desk, before turning to his Godchildren with a troubled expression. "Albus, Rose- I'm sorry we haven't spoken much since term started! Giant pumpkin season, and all that. But you know I'm not here for a catch up."
Scorpius watches with an unmeasured amount of guilt as Rose squares herself up to face punishment from someone she clearly trusts and respects a lot. "How's McLaggen?" She asks, looking only slightly guilty.
"Better, now that I've fixed that nose of his. Come along, my office." The herbology professor nods his head towards the door, and Rose dutifully follows. She doesn't even glance at Scorpius on her way out.
Al looks torn between chasing down his cousin or sticking to the hospital wing. His more mischievous side beats out his loyalty, and he mouths a "dinner?" to Scorpius as he rushes for the door.
"Not quite, Mr Potter!" Pomfrey calls after him as she hands Scorpius a flask of Wiggenweld. "What the devil have you done to my potions cupboard?"
Fifteen minutes later, Scorpius and Al leave, but not after a stern talking to: Pomfrey was missing a vial of Felix Felicis, and the floor was covered in glass. Albus almost landed himself with bedpan detention for a week, but he smiled charmingly and apologised with clear sincerity, promising to replace the vial with assistance from the Potions Master. Scorpius couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have the surname Potter, and how it must be to escape discipline through his father's name alone; but then, he reasoned with his more bitter thoughts through the knowledge that James Potter spent most Saturdays in detention. If anything got Albus off the hook with teachers, it was probably the Slytherin in him.
"Rose's fault." Albus insisted. "She's clumsy like that."
Scorpius wanted to say, he didn't know she was clumsy. She could probably thread through the Quidditch hoops backwards if she wanted to. "She won't get into too much trouble, will she?" Scorpius asked, dreading the answer. "For McLaggen?"
Al shoved his hands into his pockets, quickening his pace. "With Neville? Probably not. Maybe detention for a couple of nights. With McLaggen? Who knows. I'm gonna go and tell James though, just in case- him and Fred should be back to the Gryffindor tower by now. He'll be cashing in on his bets, no doubt- said you'd save more shots that McLaggen, just so you know!"
"You do that." Scorpius nodded, indulging in the minor satisfaction that came with a compliment from Gryffindor's best chaser. Unfortunately, taking off his filthy Quidditch robes only to put them back on had made him feel somehow past disgusting, veering dangerously into inhuman territory. "I'm going to go clean up. See you at dinner?" He offered.
"Sure. You're alright, yeah?" Al asked, looking concerned. "McLaggen's an arse, but you don't have to worry about it- he won't mess with you if he knows you're with us."
Scorpius smiled tightly and nodded. "I'm fine, don't worry." He reassured, before continuing down the hall, as Albus started to climb a set of stairs to the second floor. "See you!"
The clarity of a hot shower and clean clothes relaxed the residual ache in his shoulder and made him feel a lot better. The adrenaline wore off, and as he left the boy's bathrooms on the first floor he ran into some housemates, who sang his praises for their hard-earned win.
"You should've seen McLaggen's face!" An older boy - Matthias? - snickered and clapped him on the back. Scorpius supposed that meant first-hand accounts of Rose's standoff hadn't circulated too far. Yet.
He'd tried not to think about it too much, or read into how willing Rose had been to defend him - it was probably more about McLaggen than him, since he'd seen him mooning after her like an overgrown puppy - but it was hard. In his five years at Hogwarts, he'd been on the receiving end of a fair few hexes and jinxes, even fists, but he'd never had someone step in to defend him. With Albus, they tended to handle their problems discreetly; Harry Potter's famous cloak of invisibility worked absolute wonders, when it wasn't being shared amongst the rest of the Potter-Weasley brood. But Rose had put herself squarely between himself and a physical threat, she'd stared it down head-on and made her intentions clear. He couldn't let her take the fall- not alone, and especially not without thanking her.
He cast a quick drying charm on his hair and caught his reflection in an arched window, praying he wasn't about to go and track down a pretty girl with his hair all fluffed up and messy. It was passable.
With half an hour until dinner, he stalked through the castle corridors, doing his absolute best to look busy. He acknowledged cheers and commandments from fellow students with quick thanks and half-nods, and tried his best to avoid turning on his heel to weakly confront a couple of Gryffindor boys who excitedly muttered "did you hear about Rose Weasley?" within earshot. Eventually, he found himself out in the courtyards, heading over to the Herbology greenhouses where Professor Longbottom kept a rather informal office.
When he arrived at Greenhouse Three, he found Professor Longbottom and Rose sitting by a trough full of leafy blue plants. He couldn't quite recall the species- herbology was never his strong suit. They were talking in hushed tones, and Rose had a troubled look on her face. He stopped staring at them through the glass- it felt bad spying on them without their knowledge, so he waited by the front entrance, too nervous to look nonchalant.
He went over what he planned to say in his head to try and steel himself. When Rose emerged from the front door, looking tired but oddly pleased with herself, his plan fell to shambles in an instant.
"Rose!" He jerked upright, stepping away from the door. She jumped back, and reached for her wand - like any sensible witch would, upon finding a boy waiting for them unexpectedly - but visibly relaxed when she realised it was him.
"Malfoy." She replied, her voice measured and even. She closed the sliding door to Greenhouse Three behind her. "How's the shoulder?"
He supposed giving her a fright wasn't the best way to show her his gratitude, but he couldn't turn back time. "I- sorry, for scaring you- didn't mean to give you a fright." He scrambled over his words and righted himself to his full height. He wasn't sure if he liked how much he loomed over her. "I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Did Longbottom give you detention?"
A guarded look crossed Rose's face. Alone, she wasn't nearly as excitable and energetic as she had been after carting them away from McLaggen, but he supposed the adrenaline had worn off for her too. "Officially, yes- repotting mandrakes." She offered him a wry smile, folding her arms over her chest. "But surely you've heard from Al how much Neville loves tea and biscuits."
"Perhaps I have, but I'll never tell." Scorpius relaxed considerably, relieved to know she hadn't completely thrown herself under the bus. "I came to thank you- would it be alright if we talked, somewhere private, maybe?"
She considered it. "Is the Astronomy Tower private enough for you?"
They made the trek in relative silence, making small talk here and there. Scorpius supposed it was natural, given how they'd barely interacted previously. By the time they'd hauled themselves up the Astronomy Tower stairs they'd cut into their allotted dinnertime hour - he allowed himself to entertain the notion that she might allow him to accompany her to a late dinner, before quashing it down as embarrassing and somewhat Victorian.
Scorpius had always liked the Astronomy Tower, even if the stairs made it a pain to visit. The intricate metalwork of the Goblin-crafted Astronomical Clock glimmered delicately against the enchanted, nebulous ceiling. Rose seemed a lot more bashful now he had her all to himself; she tugged at the hairs at the back of her neck when she was nervous, a mannerism she shared with Al. Perhaps they'd acquired it from the same source.
"I wanted to thank you for defending me," Scorpius broke the silence, aiming to alleviate the awkward tension. "But also to ask you not to do it again, especially not up against McLaggen. Don't get yourself into trouble for my sake- we barely know each other- and McLaggen is a big guy-"
Rose frowned and scrunched up her eyebrows, and Scorpius got the impression that he'd messed up already. "For your sake?" She parroted, arms crossed once more. "Who says I did it for your sake- do you think Albus would've let you get yourself beaten up on your own? I've seen you both in duels, and McLaggen would've flattened you!" She glared up at him, stern and unimpressed.
Scorpius suddenly felt kind of sympathetic towards McLaggen, if this is what he was faced with. "Right. Sorry. Didn't mean to imply anything untoward." He closed up, regressing into the mannerism reserved for the overly-polite negotiations of his world back home, of his ever diplomatic mother and conflict-averse father. "But truly, it means a lot, even if it means more to me that you intended it to."
"It's not that I didn't do it to protect you-" Now it's her turn to scramble. He can practically see the cogs turning in her head. "Look, I didn't do it for you, but I didn't not do it for you- you're Albus' best friend. Even if we don't know each other, I know a lot about you, and you're important to him."
He stares down at her, contemplating her words- for all his aversions of Albus' cousins, he supposed it would've been unreasonable to ask Albus to never speak of him, purely because of his subconscious paranoia surrounding his surname. He'd even met Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake, and their fathers had once shaken hands at King's Cross. It was stiff, awkward, and unbearably uncomfortable, but it had happened. For their sake.
Through his inner-turmoil, he notes that he's probably going to make her uncomfortable if he stares at her for too long. He also notices the striking colour of her hazel eyes - not quite brown, with flecks of gold and green standing out in vibrant contrast to the gingery tones in her hair - and he forgets how to breathe for a second or two. He's seen pictures of her mother in the Daily Prophet: they look quite alike.
"I-I guess that's understandable." He shrugs, stiff as a board with his hands balled up into fists at his sides. He's still not great at the whole opening up thing, especially not with pretty almost-strangers, and not without making an absolute fool of himself. Whatever his intentions with this girl (Al's cousin! His subconscious screams in warning) the worst case scenario would be for her to find out that he's a bleeding sap on their first private meeting.
He throws caution to the wind, anyway. "What I'm trying to say is thank you, I'd like to get to know you better." He rushes out, barely giving himself room to stammer. "Maybe it's strange that we haven't talked more. Al always says you're his favourite cousin."
She puffs up, looking a bit brighter. "Of course I am, we've practically been together since birth." She grins toothily, and Scorpius notes that the slight crookedness to her canines, and her adorably slightly-too-big front teeth. They don't make her look any less attractive. He's self-aware enough to admit that they're still in that awkward transitory stage, between goofy pre-pubescent teenager and fledgling young adult; he just prays he's growing into himself as well as she seems to be. She clears her throat, coughing into her fist - another nervous habit? - before offering him her other hand. "So then- friends, I suppose?"
His eyes roam over her hand - over the nicks and cuts on her fingers, and the slight bruising to her knuckles - and for once, he acts without thinking. He takes her hand delicately, and pulls out his wand. When she doesn't jerk away, he taps his wand gently against her knuckles.
"Ferula." He smiles as thin, white bandages snake around her hand. "Friends." He reiterates. "Would you like to walk to dinner together?"