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Chapter 2: Window Glows and Drunken Fools

26th of June, 2024

Sunday morning in Paris hit Dominique in waves; the smell of baking bread wafting up three flights of stairs, crisp sunbeams leaking through the shutters, voices traveling along the cobbled streets… It was barely six in the morning and she had been awake for almost an hour, tightly wrapped in a cocoon of quilts and scrolling on her phone, hoping not to hit a minefield. The name 'Malfoy' was blocked on everything, but she couldn't be sure.

I'm away from it all, so far away. She reminded herself.

A soft patter of feet was on the creaking floorboards outside her quaint room. Her younger cousin, Nell, called out as she timidly opened her door. She peered her messy head of braids past the towel Dominique had thrown on the hook the night before and exclaimed, "oh, you're awake!"

Dominique's mind searched for anything but the sinister gloom she had been serving up since leaving the Malfoy Manor. "Morning…" her attempt at sounding cheery failed as her dry throat clenched around the word. Uncomfortably, she cleaned the sleep from her eyes while pushing the blankets off her bare legs.

Nell opened the door, revealing flour-dusted clothes, "Maman wanted me to get you… we could use your help down there."

"Of course."

Of course. Of course.

That was why she was there in the first place, right? Not to hide and feel sorry for herself… she could have done that at home.

Since opening the year before, Aunt Gabrielle's bakery, La Boulangerie Magique, had been positively flourishing. Both muggle and magical folk alike were scrambling to get their hands on her treasures with such ferocity that it was proving difficult to keep up with her small staff. When Fleur heard this, she suggested that Dominique go to visit; 'take a breather, get some rest, do some good.' It had sounded like heaven to Dominique. She loved her aunt and cousin. And in Paris, Dominique would be a whole body of water away from her problems.

Now, all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball.

After throwing on the first clothes she could get her hands on, she slipped on her paint-covered trainers at the end of the bed. Nell led her down the maze of stairs, blabbering the whole way. Dominique was amazed at her cousin's morning energy. All she could manage was a few ill-placed mmm and mhmm's.

Nell paused as they hit the swinging door into the bakery, gathering her long skirt into her hands and smiling, "ready?".

Dominique was nearly taken out by a woman walking with a sheet tray of hot pastries as they passed through. Gabrielle looked up from the mound of dough she was mixing by hand and wiped a chunk of hair out of her eyes, dragging flour across her forehead. "'Ere!" she yelled, motioning wildly for Dominique to take the spot next to her. She grabbed her hands and plunged them into the warm dough, "keep kneading zis till I tell you to stop!" Her accent was much thicker than her daughters, having barely left France most of her life. "Zee bakery opens in 'alf an 'our!" She clapped her hands, sending flour and sugar flying, "chop, chop!"

In that half hour, Dominique felt like she got nothing done. She was very slow compared to the seasoned veterans, who seemed only annoyed by her presence. Sugar, dough, chocolate, and puree were all over every part of her by the time the clock struck seven, opening time.

The second the front door was unlocked, they were flooded with people, hands grabbing for the glass counters. Gabrielle shoved Dominique up front after she deflated a bowl of meringue, "smile, be pretty, don't mess any'zing up!".

Nell and Dominique manned the frontline all morning. Nell made delicate lattes and cappuccinos, handing out cups of steaming foam with swirling patterns. Dominique did the sales, shoving countless loaves of bread into pale yellow paper bags and boxes. Each box was decorated with a small bundle of daisies and a little blue ribbon. It was insanity having to tie each one by hand… Dominique longed for her wand, wishing that Gabrielle would have opened up a bakery in one of the magical districts of the city instead.

The madness did not slow until nearly closing when they ran low on everything, and Dominique's hands were severely cramping. Nell smiled out of the corner of her mouth, watching Dominique wring her hands. "You get used to it after a while."

Gabrielle flitted in from the kitchen. She was no longer covered in flour and seemed to have just had a fresh shower. She whirled around her niece, eyeing the display case with a click of her tongue and a smile that matched Nell's. "You did well today," she told to Dominique, reaching in to grab the last chocolate croissant. She placed it into Dominique's hand, "eat." This was less of a suggestion and more of a command.

Gabrielle watched as Dominique took a bite… Dominique's eyes rolled back; it was the bloody best croissant she had ever tasted. Buttery, flaky, and full of rich dark chocolate that coated every bit of her mouth. She was so hungry that she took another huge bite, closed her eyes, and melted back on the counter, chewing slowly. For a second, she forgot about everything. All that existed was her and the croissant. She ate it leisurely, not opening her eyes until she felt Nell stand in front of her, "I am taking you like it?"

She wiped the crumbs from the front of her shirt. "What's in those things?"

"I know, it's like magic… whatever Maman touches turns to gold." She winked.

What a thought; a single bite of a golden pastry could make you forget your problems.

The little bell above the door jingled, and the sound from the street leaked into their now-serene bakery. She hid the rest of the croissant underneath the counter and looked up at the woman standing before her. Despite the muggy summer heat and sweat on her brow, she wore a scarf. "Are you still open?" She donned a posh English accent and clutched a newspaper in one of her hands.

"Yes," Nell's smile was wide and welcoming. She leaned over the counter to gesture at the sparse display. "Not much left. If you want, we can give them to you for half off."

Pleased, the woman clapped her hands together. Dominique could see that the pictures in the newspaper she held were moving.

She was a witch.

For a moment, this relaxed her.

For a moment, she could still taste the chocolate.

Dominique backed off a little bit as Nell described what was left. She grabbed each pastry with tongs and carefully put them into a yellow box. The woman set the paper down, and something flashed in the frame catching Dominique's eye.

SCANDAL AT THE MALFOY MANOR.

Her heart thudded against her ribs.

MALFOY'S IN HIDING.

Across the page were pictures of them… and him, him, him, him. Scorpius held up his hand to shield his face from the camera. Draco huddled him and Astoria to his chest. The picture of Narcissa was from years ago when she was still solid and terrifying in a much different way than she was at the manor. Along the bottom of the page were pictures of Dominique and the rest of the apprentices. Her face was smiling at the camera like the fool that she was.

DEATH AT THE MALFOY MANOR.

Her heart sank, she felt sick to her stomach, and before she knew it, she fell backward.

"Oh, dear!"

"Dom? Dominique?"

She could barely hear their voices as they called to her.

Death at the Malfoy Manor, death at the Malfoy Manor, death, death, death…

Tears fell.

Her voice cracked, and all she could say was her name…

1st of July, 2023

Scorpius looked up at Dominique from his place on the dock and then slumped down, kicking his legs like a toddler. She was madly wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Blood and spit glistened in the moonlight. His eyes were closed, his hands raised above his head, palms resting open. It looked like he was about to fall asleep. They were at the edge of the small lake on the Malfoy estate. It was freezing. A small lantern swung back and forth from a dilapidating boat shed.

"Why did you kiss me?" she asked, stomping over to where he lay.

His face twisted from calm to confusion as he lazily opened his eyes, "why did you let me kiss you?"

"Let you?" she snorted, "I don't know about you, but from where I was standing, it looked a lot different than that."

He did not bother to answer.

Behind her, the manor's windows gleamed in a warning. They were far enough away to where no one could hear them. Although she feared prying eyes, what would they think of them out there?

"Shouldn't you pay more attention to who you're kissing, or do you just kiss everyone that comes knocking?"

"I…" he lifted his hand, pointing, then lost his train of thought. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked, slurring his words.

She would have gestured to the now-lost chicken dinner, but the only sign of the mess was gravy sliding down her pants. The drizzling rain was trying its best to wash it off – it only succeeded in making it look worse like he'd vomited on her instead of over the dock.

She could still hear the sound of their teeth clacking together. Her upper lip throbbed, and her hand quickly joined in the pain's beat. A large part of her wanted to walk away from him. Could she just leave Scorpius and go back to her room? What if he were to drunkenly fall into the lake and drown? She would definitely be blamed. She could only imagine the new stories after it.

"Get up," she told him.

He barely shifted as she nudged him with her foot.

"Get up! You can't stay out here in the rain."

"Who says?"

"I do."

"I do." He mocked her in a baby voice, refusing to look at her as he rolled onto his side and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

He was smiling to himself, proud of his defiance.

"You're a child!" Dominique spat. The rain started to fall harder. She was about to give up and Apparate them both back when there was a soft popping and the sound of a gasp. They'd been caught. Dominique was a child straying too close to the stove, her hands hovering above the flames.

It was Emilia. She rushed to Scorpius' side, "what happened?" she asked, not accusingly.

"I…"

Emilia's soft brown hair bobbed as she assessed the situation. Her eyes trailed to Dominique's swollen lip and quivering hand, to Scorpius' face. She sighed and lightly slapped his cheek with the back of her hand. He opened his eyes and smiled, "Emmmiieeeee," he cooed, reaching up to touch her face. She let him and then grumbled at Dominique, "we have to get him back. Quick, take my hand."

They were back in his room in a flash, the chicken mess had been brushed inside, and the door was latched closed. Scorpius lay on his plush carpet; he groaned, gagging.

"Serves you right!" Emilia scolded, waggling her wand to float a wastebasket to his side.

He wasted no time in throwing up again. It was silent and fast like he had done it a million times before. Emilia looked at him with a sad sort of love. She wiped her wet hands on her white apron and motioned for Dominique, "help me move him to the bed."

Dominique did not want to touch the man who had just thrown up and stolen a kiss from her. Except there was a softness to Emilia's expression that made her not want to let her down. They placed him on the long blank space on his bed with crumpled sheets reserved for sleeping. The rest of the bed was covered in books, and a nearly empty vodka bottle rested on his pillow. Emilia attempted to prop him up with a huff of breath. He sunk down, his chin meeting his exposed collarbone, blood dripping from his mouth. Squinting, he spoke again, "Emmmiliiaa, when did you get here?"

"What happened?" She asked Dominique, ignoring him, as she looked for something to wipe the blood from his chin.

"I came to give him his dinner, and when he opened the door he…." Dominique paused, unsure if she should tell her.

Emilia rolled her eyes, "don't worry, I've heard it all. How do you think I knew where to find him?"

"He does this often?"

"I wouldn't say often, but… enough."

Hot flushed Domnique's cheeks. Scorpius had become a drunken scoundrel! There were plenty of people at Hogwarts she would have put into that category, many of them Scorpius was friends with, but he never came close to that classification. Scorpius had always been fairly tame. Sure, as the Slytherin quidditch captain and later captain of the Montrose Magpies, he dated around. He partied as much as the other players, but he was never as close to the level of irresponsible indifference as he was there on his bed.

Scorpius' head bowed and jerked up, his eyes landing on Dominique, "what are you doing here?" his voice was full of disgust.

"What?"

Emilia rushed to his side and snatched the vodka bottle out of his hands before it could meet his lips. "Maybe you should go," she told Dominique with a sympathetic smile.

Dominique stepped away from them, her foot slipping on a potato. He was trying to get up. Emilia held him. She spoke softly to him and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He looked at her and then over her shoulder at Dominique. Coldly, he spat, "Weasley," like it was an insult – like he hated the very name.

Without looking back, Emilia threw a hand behind her, "go!" she demanded.

Dominique ran out and slammed the door, hoping that it would send a searing crack through his drunken skull. This was truly a side of Scorpius she had never seen. He was usually so put together, stoic, and cool. Sure, it was a known fact he was sharp when in a foul mood, pricking with his words and stabbing glare anyone who dared to close to him. But being Albus' cousin, that was something she never had to deal with. Scorpius had always been stiffly polite to her, no matter his mood.

Scorpius' voice had curled around her last name like a snake ready to squeeze its prey. Her veins scorched. Albus... how could he be friends with someone that was such a terror? Did he know that he was like this? She reached for her phone and looked for Albus' name, typing the message: 'we need to talk.' She groaned when it failed to send. She should have known.

"No service here." Alice was walking by. She looked up from her usual spot on the floor and waved her phone at Dominique. Gems and hanging keychains glittered in the candlelight. "I've been trying for hours. Mrs. Malfoy said there was no service. Just owls."

Dominique grumbled and stared at her useless phone, trying to make it explode with her eyes.

"What's a-matter, Weasel? Afraid he'll forget about you if you can't get ahold of your widdle boyfwiend?" Georgia was coming up beside them with Theodore and Oliver.

Dominique sneered.

"Lay off her, Gigi." Theodore said.

"Why? Do you have a crush?"

Theodore rolled his eyes at her and walked away with Oliver.

Georgia looked at Scorpius' door and glared, "have fun?" her words dripped with insinuation.

"Not as much fun as you were going to have."

She laughed, throwing her head back, "at least I can admit it, virgin."

Alice watched them with wide mouse eyes. Dominique almost felt sorry for her, stuck in that house with all of them.

4th of July, 2023

Draco was at breakfast the morning after that first night. Dressed far more casually than any of the apprentices had ever seen him be, with his long hair pulled back into a bun. In passing, he gave Dominique the impression he was just as cold and distant as his son. Yet when he spoke, it was like liquid gold spilled from his lips. He showered those around him with his shine, providing full attention to any who required it. He knew their names before they offered them and smiled at each of the apprentices, shaking their hands by folding them inside his. His smile was perhaps the warmest thing Dominique had yet to experience in those walls, and it was the first thing that made her want to stay.

Two days after his return, they were all in the drafty ballroom working on separate pieces to show him what they were 'about.' (Draco seemed to care not about Astoria's warning, 'used only for entertaining…') He walked around the room, his feet barely making noise in the echoing cavern.

Dominique shifted in her spot on the hard floor and felt her spine crunch against the etched wood paneling behind her. She pressed down on her pencil, scraping through the paper. It was difficult for her to concentrate on the pencil drawing in her lap.

She felt Draco's energy before she heard him.

He cleared his throat, squatting down to her level to look out the same cathedral window she was. She was attempting to capture how the afternoon light hit the mighty oak trees outside. Her hand moved faster in his presence, and she made another mistake, once more digging the pencil in.

He watched her as she corrected and re-corrected her error.

His voice was gentle. "Nervous?"

Her stomach flipped. She cleared her throat, "I think so."

"Why?"

Her mind was racing, trying to think of a way to say, 'because you're an incredibly famous, incredibly intimidating artist who I worship!' without sounding like a bloody basket case.

Draco offered her a small smile and tapped his fingers against the edge of her drawing. "Why do you make art?"

Her voice caught in her throat, "I always have."

"Is that what drives you? Familiarity?"

"No, I guess not," she answered with a scrunch of her nose.

He raised a thin blond eyebrow, a trait she was beginning to recognize in all of the Malfoy's. "Why that? Why the window?"

Because it was to the outside.

Because she felt trapped.

Because she missed her family.

She missed her friends.

She missed her boyfriend.

She had plenty of answers, all of which she was too afraid to tell him. He looked like he wanted so much from her, from all of them. Could she really only offer complaints?

Answering slowly, she said, "because it's beautiful," hoping it would satisfy him.

"You don't sound so sure about that…." His disappointment weighed between the both of them. He tapped his index finger against her sketchbook and stood up. "I want you to think about it."

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"I am going to ask you again," he threw her a look over his shoulder, "and I expect an honest answer next time."

Later that night, Dominique was tucked under the covers with a pen, trying for her life to draw something that meant anything. She was stumped, stilted, stuck in quicksand, sinking faster and faster with each tragic brush of her pen.

Isn't there a reason I'm here? Wasn't I supposed to be good at this? These questions plagued her as she heard the familiar tap of a beak against a window.

She pushed the windows open with force and ducked as two owls swooped in, dropping letters on the bed. Holding back from ripping into them, she gave each owl a treat and a scratch before sending them on their way. Then she first tore open the navy envelope adorned with Callum's chicken scratch handwriting. The heavy scent of his cologne drifted off the unfolded pages. He had spent the last month in Spain with one of his fathers, Dean, while the other, Seamus, traveled to Italy on business. A picture of Callum lounging on a rocky beach, drink in hand, fell into her lap. He gave the camera a cheeky thumbs up and sipped from a twisty straw: 'With love, C.'

In his letter, he said he was back in Belfast: 'Da isn't back yet. The house is quiet. Father is moping. It makes me miss you like hell. When are you going to come to your senses and leave that place so I can see you?'

Dominique would have to refrain from telling him how homesick she was, or he would never let her hear the end of it.

He was admittedly just as unhappy as her parents when she told him that she had decided to go to the manor instead of renewing the lease on their loft. She had not made the decision lightly. It felt right at the time. Callum was just accepted into a mathematics program at an excellent muggle college. He was going to be busy with that and work. Watching him achieve so much gave her the awful sense that she might be 'left behind.' She wanted to be something, do something other than mope around her sleepy hometown, and watch all her friends grow without her.

'We haven't been apart since we were thirteen. I don't want to start now.' Callum told her. It was a biting reality. But this test was one she was sure they would survive.

Dominique buried his letter underneath her pillow and propped his picture on the antique lamp on her side table. She tried not to think of him, her siblings, parents, or soon-to-be-born nephew and turned her attention to Roxanne's letter. Her name was looped across a pale pink envelope; in the corner, she had drawn a heart.

Roxanne was the only one in the whole family that was like Dominique. They found solace in one another when she was also sorted into Hufflepuff. Attached at the hip from that point on, she became her best friend. It was laughable, really… nearly a whole family sorted into Gryffindor. Then Albus, Roxanne, and Dominique came along to break that tradition. Two puffs and a slithering snake.

Roxanne filled her letter with all the adventures she and Jack (her boyfriend and the fourth in their friendship quad) partook in on their road trip across America. At the bottom, she scribbled a quick worry - 'I'm afraid when we go home and have to go back to our normal lives, he will think I'm boring.'

While their friendship was many years deep, their relationship was very new. Dominique frowned. She knew what she had to do. She dug into her backpack to find her old, nearly filled sketchbook and searched for a specific drawing she had done of the two at Christmas. Jack looked over at her with a massive smile while she braided her long hair. Dominique carefully ripped it out and wrote on the bottom, 'when someone looks at you like this, you don't have to worry about a thing. XOXO, Dom.'

The Malfoy's owlery was separate from the main house, among a cluster of willow trees behind the manor. The fastest way to get to it was down the long hall to the indoor pool and out its wall of windows. The clock on the wall read ten to midnight. Dominique threw on the white robe that came along with the ensuite and stuffed her feet into her trainers, smashing down the backs. She nervously rolled up the drawing and charmed it so it would not get wet in the night's misty air.

The pool room was cold, silent, and calm. Lights along the bottom of the pool gave the water an otherworldly glow as steam rose from its surface. Her rubber soles slapped on the marble as she quickly exited out the back door and galloped to the owlery.

The owlery was a short brick tower with circular windows and a mossy domed roof. It fit in well with the giant weeping willows, blending in and hiding except for the small light that hung from the doorframe. Inside were over two dozen owls of all shapes and sizes. They more or less ignored her as she entered, only hopping to attention when she held up a solitary treat. The owl who landed next to her was snowy white with eyes the color of burnt orange peels. Plump and eager, he snatched the treat and lifted a foot awaiting instructions. When she tried to scratch his head, he jerked away, "one track mind," she teased as he gave her a look. Giggling, she told him, "please take this to Roxanne Cedrella Weasley… and don't worry, she'll have lots of snacks for you when you get there."

While jogging back to the pool room, she was struck with how mighty the manor looked in the pitch dark. She paused, staring up at its many windows, most dark, some twinkling with life. She counted the floors quietly, "servants floor, main floor, bedrooms, library…" pausing as she reached what would be the forbidden wing. It was a stoic tower with a top like an arrow tip. None of those lights were on except in the highest room, above the roof, a jutting piece of architecture – a stalagmite growing from stone. Draco's private study. She let herself watch his flickering lights as she wondered which masterpieces he created while inside.

Requiem.

Composed Father.

Creature of Nobody.

Possession.

Or perhaps, The Discovery of Forever…

The Discovery of Forever made Draco who he was as an artist. It was a severe, haunting painting. The first time she saw it, it made her eyes swell and her heart flutter to a stop. It was the first painting he had ever gotten to move, and it just so happened to be a portrait of his mother, Narcissa. It was personal and poetic, a natural raw experience. Some say that's why he finally achieved the disappearing skill of creating moving, breathing, almost living art. In it, she was young and beautiful, like she had been before the second wizarding war drained her. She stared intensely forward as the background of serpents and flowers writhed and wilted, her eyes full of emotion. An emotion that only Draco knew.

Many argued about what she was looking at or feeling. Some say it was sorrow for what her family had done. Some say it was hatred, some anger…

To Dominique, it looked a lot like love, and for that, she adored it.

As if aware of an audience, the room went dark.

A chilly breeze made her legs light up with goosebumps, so she tore herself away from the room and ran for the door, shivering in her robe. The pool room wrapped her in heat. Curious about the water, she kicked off her shoes and dipped a paint-chipped toe into the deep end. It felt like a heavenly bath, the perfect temperature. Not being able to help it, she pushed her foot deeper, submerging to her shin and sending her tilting off balance.

Should I? She wondered.

The sound of the door opening was like a siren. Jumping to attention, she launched herself away from the pool and into the shadows to hide behind a pillar.

Why am I hiding? I'm not doing anything wrong.

It was too late now to show herself. She gripped the sides of the pillar and waited. Someone was traveling along the pool's edge, getting closer to where she hid. There was a sigh, a groan, and then a diving splash. She dared to peek around the corner and saw a blond head bobbing to the surface.

Taking a deep, loud breath, Scorpius dove, disappearing into the rippling water. She watched as he shifted onto his back and fanned out his long arms to float and gaze up at the glass ceiling. The stars twinkled down. He seemed alert and alive in their light. Blissfully unaware of her presence, he swam around. He was effortless and smooth, his lean arms gliding nearly soundless in and out of the water.

Dominique watched, hypnotized.

Then suddenly, in a burst of energy, he was at the edge of the pool, peering into the darkness where she hid.

Don't breathe. Don't move.

"Hello?" He called out. Droplets splashed as he pulled himself out of the pool.

Dominique pushed her body against the pillar. There was near complete silence from him as he inched closer; the only sound was of the water dripping from his body. Her heart pounded. She dug her nails into her hips, willing herself to stay silent. Another burst of energy, and he had her pinned against the pillar, his white wand to her throat, his face contorted into a snarl. "Who-" he started in a roar only to let go of her like hot coals, "Dominique?"

She held the spot where his wand had jabbed her, her fear melting into anger. "What is your problem?" she fired at him.

His pale eyes watched her face, "Do-" he started to repeat her name, stopped, and blinked slowly. "Are you…"

He seemed to decide something suddenly. His face softened as he lowered his wand and moved back toward the pool, leaving a trail of water dripping from his shorts. Dominique's eyes wandered up his pale legs as his thigh bulged against clinging fabric. Shaking her head, she adverted her eyes. He was still in incredible shape for not playing quidditch since his accident.

"Is assault just a thing for you?" she asked him as she hopped in place, trying to get her shoe back on.

"Hardly," he growled as he reached his right arm over his head and used his left hand to squeeze the shoulder blade. He winced, rolling his head, neck audibly cracking.

Dominique was overcome with the sudden memory of his last quidditch game with the Montrose Magpies. His agonizing screams as he hit the ground from hundreds of feet in the air. The way his bones broke through his back like baby birds breaking a soft shell.

It was the game that would have sent them to the World Cup. Everything was riding on that game for him.

Now, his injury made playing near impossible.

"I wasn't the one lurking in the shadows… Was I? What were you even doing? It's–" he went to check a watch that was not there, then looked up at the sky, gesturing, "the middle of the night!"

"I could ask you the same question."

He scoffed.

"I very obviously have a purpose for being here. You, on the other hand…" he raised an eyebrow, suddenly distracted, "nice pajamas…."

Shit!

There was no way to be taken seriously while wearing purple butterfly pajamas. Dominique tilted her head up at him and tried to confidently say, "they're a gift from Louis." She was thankful that the dim light concealed how much she was blushing.

"Proud, are you?"

"Very."

They stared one another down. His eyes were clearer than she had seen them since that first night; the bags underneath - though always there - were less noticeable, and his skin had life to it. She wanted to tell him he looked good, better. Yet she knew that it would not be a welcome comment.

"You still haven't answered the question," he hissed suspiciously.

"I was sending an owl."

"Callum couldn't wait?"

The mocking way that he said Callum's name made Dominique scowl.

"Oh, so not Callum?" Scorpius let out a small laugh and cocked his head; a water line streamed from his hair, "perhaps another admirer?"

"My only admirer is Callum. No one else matters."

"Good to see someone so… loyal." He was back at the water's edge. He put his hands on his hips and looked out at the owlery. A wicked smirk spread across his cheeks, "are you going to tell him about our kiss?"

Dominique tripped on her loose trainers as she stomped a foot at him. He did not flinch to help her. "Our? Our kiss?" She repeated with volition.

"Yes… our kiss. Are you going to tell him?"

"I wouldn't be afraid to tell him if that's what you're insinuating! It's not like I was the one responsible or wanted to! You ambushed me!" She felt her body go red again.

Scorpius shrugged, looking bored. A bruise was still resting in the corner of his mouth from that night. "No need to get defensive," he told her, biting the bruise with his canines and turning away from her.

"I'm not–"

"It's not something I meant to do," he told her coolly, "it doesn't matter. It was just a kiss. One in a sea of thousands."

He had no idea he was now the only person she'd kissed besides Callum. She touched a hand to her lips, feeling her own bruise, and wondered if she should tell Callum. Would he be angry with her? She stared at Scorpius' back, wanting to slice her nails down it and throw him into the deep end to drown.

"Well," Scorpius' voice was hoarse when he spoke again, "if you don't mind…."

"Mind what?" She asked, just realizing how long they'd sat there in silence.

He slid back into the water and flipped to face her, splashing her feet, "unless you want to go for round two, I suggest you go back to whatever it was you were doing in the shadows."