Disclaimer: etc

A/N: So I meant to update this Saturday night, but I managed to stuff up my internet access and only just managed to get it working on something bigger than a mobile phone. Never fear, I've been working on the next (last) chapter in the mean time and have promised a certain someone it'll be done by Christmas :)

Scorpius had never felt more contented. He stretched out his legs, allowing himself to smile as his knee touched something soft. Rose's leg, wound up between his.

He wanted to savour the sensation, but he opened his eyes anyway. Sunlight streamed through her living room window, and he frowned. Was it that late already? He'd been hoping for -

Six fifty! His eyes fell on the clock on the kitchen table in dismay. It was Monday, he reminded himself. A work day. He couldn't stay here, much as he wanted to.

He half sat up, smiling down at Rose's sleeping form as she stirred next to him.

He, Scorpius Malfoy, was waking up. With Rose Weasley. On her couch.

Except that he wasn't Scorpius Malfoy. His mouth curled up at the realisation, but he didn't care. Last night had been -

Except that he was Scorpius Malfoy.

He stared suddenly back at the mirror, hoping he was imagining things - but of course he wasn't. Polyjuice Potion barely lasted an hour. His flask, dammit, where was his flask, he couldn't let Rose find out like this -

With a glance at Rose, he carefully reached for his jeans pocket, lying next to the coffee table beside him. He'd been taking sips from the flask all night, to keep it up, but he hadn't counted on falling asleep...

He ripped the lid open and took a sip, but nothing came out. Dammit, the flask was empty. He'd finished it sometime in the night, obviously, but the observation didn't help his mood.

The lethargy that had been slowing his mind suddenly lifted. He had another flask somewhere, didn't he? He'd prepared it specially, knowing that he'd be spending a whole evening at Rose's place...

A memory of the night before flashed before him. The kitchen counter. He'd grabbed one vial, certainly. The vial they'd used to make the butterbeer. He winced at the memory, and his head decided to take that moment to start pounding like a door-knocker. Merlin, maybe there was something to be said for following the recipe to the letter. That stuff had been strong...

But he had bigger problems right now. Without the extra supply of Polyjuice Potion, he was stuck as Scorpius Malfoy. And he had no idea what she was going to say when her alarm clock ticked over to seven a.m., and Rose Weasley woke up to find Scorpius Malfoy's legs entwined with hers.

She was still asleep as he eased himself out, holding his breath. He stumbled over his jeans - dammit, he'd known they were there, how could he have been so stupid? - but she didn't open her eyes, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He picked up his jeans, but he couldn't find his shirt. It didn't matter. His coat was outside in the hall. He could wear that home.

He thanked whatever gods were watching over him for Apparation - and cursed whoever'd invented Anti-Apparation charms for houses. He just had to get outside. To the front door. And then he was free.

Six fifty-eight, the clock read in harsh red numbers. Two minutes. He walked around the table and through the door, with a last glance at Rose - still asleep - and the clock - six fifty-nine. It had ticked over while he'd been making his escape.

He half-crept, half-sprinted through the living room, grabbing his coat from the hook, and looked out the small window next to the door. He stopped with a start - he couldn't go out there in just his underwear! He struggled into the jeans, wrapping his coat around him without actually putting it on - there, that would do -

He opened the door just as the alarm rang out, shrill from Rose's bedroom.

He closed it behind him just as her voice called out sleepily for Edgar.

And then he Apparated from her door, wondering what the hell he'd just done.

He decided to forgo breakfast in favour of a shower. A long one, a cold one, because for one thing there was no way he was going to wait for the heating to kick in, and for another –

What the hell had he just done?

He stripped off his coat roughly, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. A rip, and something small and dark rolled under the counter, but he hardly noticed.

The hell –

His head pounded, and he pushed the shower door open with one hand, holding his head in the other. Blindly, he turned the tap, and cold water spurted out in bursts. He stood there, letting it pour over him, vaguely aware that it was freezing, that there were goosebumps all down his arms.

Rose. He'd – he had no idea what he'd done with Rose. He'd woken up next to her in his underwear. He'd crept out past the kitchen and seen the empty bowl of butterbeer, tipped over on its side in Rose's sink.

He grabbed a bar of soap, suddenly angry.

He'd had what should have been the most wonderful night of his life.

And he didn't remember it.

Scorpius stepped out of the elevator, ignoring Jones and Edison as they brushed past him.

"Bloke's insane, it's too soon," Edison muttered, but for once Scorpius wasn't worrying about work. If that was what they were talking about.

The elevator doors cluttered shut behind him as he started down the corridor. He wanted to talk to Finch, but he didn't, and he didn't even remember what had happened so what was he supposed to say to him, anyway?

Well, Finch could probably help him out with that one, he thought, smiling despite himself. He'd probably been in that situation more times than –

"What's got you so happy today?

He looked up, startled. Finch slipped out of a doorway to his side, an old man Scorpius didn't recognise following closely behind.

This wasn't...?

Shit.

Merlin, he didn't even remember his name, he'd thought he had time – now he was screwed, this was awful, he'd ruined his one chance to impress the man –

Finch laughed. "Scorpius Malfoy," he said with a grin, "may I introduce you to Mr Samuel Davies. That's your cue to sag in relief, by the way."

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, and hoping desperately his companions didn't notice, Scorpius reached out to shake the other man's hand. "I haven't seen you around here before, sir," he said cautiously. Just because he wasn't Flint didn't mean he wasn't one of his men...

The old man threw back his head with laughter. Scorpius, unable to look him in the eye, fixated instead on the way the movement tickled the air around his beard. It was a remarkably full one, even if it wasn't long.

"I think I'm going to like this boy," Davies said conversationally to Finch. "He'll make an excellent minion, don't you think?"

Finch coughed. "Uh..."

"Thought you said he was a Timer?"

"Not for long," Scorpius said morosely.

The old man winced. "Haven't passed the Flint test yet, have you?"

"I'm sure you will," Finch said bracingly. Scorpius wanted to punch him.

"And I suppose you have?"

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "Just this morning."

"Flint is here?"

All the relief he'd felt at hearing Samuel Davies' name fled. Finch nodded, waving his hand vaguely towards his nametag. A small black label had been appended to the bottom.

Re-Employed, read the label in large green letters.

Impossible to miss – unless your thoughts were otherwise occupied.

But Merlin, there were more immediate problems than what had happened with Rose!

He strode down the hall and reached the door to the Time chamber, grabbed his nametag from the box at the door –

Scorpius Malfoy, read the first line, as it always had. But in place of the second line, the one that had always simply read Time, next to an unexplained two pips, there was a new message, flashing bright yellow against red.

Status: Indeterminate.

And no pips.

He heard Finch's footsteps behind him, but he didn't turn around. "It's today, isn't it?" he said flatly.

"Almost certainly." Scorpius was glad he didn't elaborate, didn't add anything about how he was sure it'd all be fine, that he had nothing to worry about.

"Almost?"

Finch drew up beside him, placing his hand on the doorknob. "He has a list. A clipboard. He's going through it one by one, in private interviews." He jerked his head towards Davies. "It's how I met him."

"You didn't know him before? I thought I didn't recognise him."

"We were waiting together. Think he'd just had his, he was giving me advice. Listen, Scorp –"

"I get it. I'll start packing my desk up now."

He reached for the door handle, but Finch's hand still lay over it. "No, I'm serious. Play up the stuff you have done. I've seen you, it's not like you've been sitting around playing marbles for the last three years. Flint's not a rules man, he's a money man."

"I haven't finished a project that was meant to take six months. Even I can admit that's not a great track record."

Finch waved his hand. "He's a money man, which means he's a spin man. You've just got to work out how to tell the story in a way he'll –"

"You mean lie."

"Scorp –" Finch let go of the doorknob and grabbed his shoulders. "Scorpius Malfoy, this is your job, this is your life, this is your last chance to save it. I'm your friend, dammit, I'm not going to let you just throw it away!"

This was useless, there was no chance that status on his badge was going to change to Re-Employed, he shouldn't get his hopes up, but this was – this could – Rose –

"Okay," he said, before he could stop himself. He ran his free hand through his hair, self-conscious all of a sudden. Everything seemed to hinge on this one moment. Maybe he wouldn't lose Rose after all.

"Okay," he repeated, before he did start getting his hopes up with stupid fantasies. "But you've got to help me."

Finch's face lit up, and the shoulder grab miraculously transformed into a sort of hug – or awkward pat on the shoulder, anyway. "I've got some stuff I've got to sort out with Davies. Give me half an hour."

"And if he calls me before then?"

"He won't. And if he does, well, just don't mention your trainee stuff. Just, I dunno, say you decided to focus on something that'd increase the profits of the department. Then shut the hell up about it and talk about something else."

Davies coughed behind them. "You ready, then?"

Finch nodded, and the two of them set off towards the elevator.

"Finch?" Scorpius called out on a whim.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be late."

Every set of footsteps made him jump.

Could you explain what you do here, Mr Malfoy?

He couldn't do what Finch had told him to do. Papers lay strewn over his desk, and every now and then he'd reach out for another, bring it to the front, and stare at it just as intently – and blankly – as the last.

Certainly, sir. I worked on the latest Philosophy of Time project with Mr Jones and –

Philosophy of Time? He couldn't have picked a worse example to prove he was increasing the department's revenue. Finch would have had him eating out of his hand by now. One grin, approximately three sentences and he'd probably be promoted to Minister for fricking Magic.

Every time he tried to imagine the conversation it sounded worse.

Really? Then explain why your name wasn't on the paper they submitted, Mr Malfoy.

I'm a trainee, sir, I wasn't officially assigned to the project –

Then you can't have done very much at all, you lazy slacker! You're fired!

Scorpius jumped. Even Flint's imaginary voice was enough to make him quake in his boots. He checked his badge compulsively, but the sight of the yellow text did nothing to calm his nerves.

More footsteps.

"You're working yourself into a state, I see."

Scorpius' shoulders sagged in relief. Finch. He looked at the clock above his bench. "You're late."

"Five minutes, man, give me a break. It's chaos in the Brain Room."

Scorpius turned to face Finch, frowning. "Thought it was only Time that was getting the overhaul."

"At the moment." Finch shrugged, then leaned closer. "Between you and me, I'm starting to get the impression Bletchley didn't resign voluntarily, if you know what I mean."

"The powers that be have decided to play with more of us mortals, then," Scorpius murmured.

Finch laughed. "Means Flint is just a puppet. I reckon it's a good thing."

Personally, Scorpius didn't see how it changed anything. Puppets could do just as much damage as the real thing. Especially if the puppet-masters decided to mess with the rest of the Department of Mysteries, as well. But he didn't comment. Finch was here for a reason, and it wasn't to gossip about the chaos in the Brain Room.

Finch leaned over, knocking over a jar of quills as he did so. Scorpius discreetly moved his ink bottle out of his reach.

"These the projects you were going to mention?"

Scorpius was amazed he could make any sense of the mess of parchment on his desk. He nodded jerkily. "Yes. Maybe. I mean, I'm going through all of it. Figure I'll have to at some point."

"You're not fired yet," Finch muttered. "Definitely not this philosophy crap, you'll be crucified. What about this one?"

He held out a dog-eared notebook.

"I don't even remember what that is."

"Replenishing the Time Turner supply cupboard."

"That was three years ago. And a monkey could have done that."

Finch laughed. "What do you think they hire trainees for?"

Scorpius grabbed the notebook from Finch, and picked up another one from the desk. "I was thinking maybe I could talk about this one? It's just some notes I took for Ackerley at the start of the year. About Pensieves."

"You really shouldn't be telling me all this."

Scorpius snorted. "Please. The cleaning lady probably knows more about the projects than I do."

"This is the Department of Mysteries. We don't have cleaning ladies." Finch eyed the clutter on Scorpius' desk. "Although maybe we should."

"Should I mention it or not?"

Finch shrugged, taking the notebook from Scorpius' hands. He flicked through it, sighing. "To be honest I think you're overthinking this. All you've got to do is tell him what you've done. Be honest. Just skim over stuff that didn't make any money."

"I'm not sure I agree that the department head should care this much about money."

"If you don't go along with it you won't have much say in the matter, so I suggest sticking with my plan."

"Yeah, because I've got so much say in my current position..."

They were interrupted by yet another set of footsteps. Two, actually, although one set consisted of more stomping than stepping.

"Parker, be reasonable -"

Scorpius couldn't help but turn to watch the spectacle, and Finch whistled softly.

"He's going to pay for this, damn him!"

The woman hurried after him, her voice pleading as she ran. "Parker, be reasonable, it's just a job."

"Don't tell me to be bloody reasonable! I suppose you're on his side now that he's decided he wants you -"

"Don't be ridiculous! Just because I didn't call him a bloody motherf- " She cut off, glaring at Finch and Scorpius. "Didn't make it," she whispered to them, as Parker banged his way through the door to the chamber.

"We noticed," Finch said drily, and she rolled her eyes and ran after him. "Case in point," Finch noted to Scorpius. "I told you it was all about spin. You've just got to go in there, show you've made a bit of money - even that Time-Turner stuff is enough, it's not like they expect Time to rake in the profits - and for pity's sake suck up to him? It's not that hard -"

"For you, maybe."

"For you, too." Suddenly Finch narrowed his eyes at him, and dragged an empty stool over to the bench. "You've shown quite well over the last few weeks that you're quite capable of lying when it suits you."

"I'm -"

"I'm talking about Rose."

Scorpius looked away. "Obviously."

Wait.

Over the last few weeks? As in - recently? As in Edgar Spore? "How did you know?" he asked, more casually than he felt.

"About what?"

"I never told you I was still doing it."

"But you are, aren't you? You still haven't stopped. Have you told her yet?"

Scorpius looked back at him. "Obviously not," he said flatly. "You wouldn't have if it were you, either."

"I wouldn't have gotten into such a ridiculous situation in the first place."

"It wasn't ridiculous! I'm not you, I can't just waltz up and chat her up, just like I can't just waltz up and lie to my boss -"

"Merlin's pants, Scorp, it's not lying! Say whatever you want, just don't call him a moron to his face."

Reluctantly, he felt a smile creep over his face. He looked around quickly. "Can I whisper it to someone else?"

"If you're sure of their loyalties first," Finch whispered back with a grin.

Scorpius straightened. "Better not say anything to you just yet, then."

"Whatever. We're going to tidy up this desk of yours, by the way. There's no point spending half an hour convincing Flint how organised and productive you are if he's just going to come back and see this pigsty."

"I take offence to that."

"I should bloody well hope so!"

They worked in silence for a while, Scorpius haphazardly and Finch more methodically. It was the opposite of their usual working styles, and Scorpius had to conceal a grin when he accidentally knocked a roll of parchment to the ground. He climbed down to pick it up, grinning at Finch as he came back up again. "I'm turning into you."

Finch stared at him for a moment, then smiled. "Excellent. You're ready to joke again. Which means you and me are going to have a talk about a certain mutual acquaintance of ours."

This was what he'd wanted, wasn't it? What he'd sought out Finch for in the first place, before this stupid mess with Flint had come to a head?

But it hadn't, yet, and Scorpius didn't feel remotely confident they had a case.

"This is hardly the place, Finch," was all he said, trying to concentrate on the title of the paper in front of him. The Magical Manipulations Of Matter In -

"Rubbish. It's perfect. You're trapped." He swivelled on his stool to face Scorpius. "Now. Tell me where you've been all weekend."

Scorpius opened his mouth to reply - then closed it as he remembered everything that had happened since Saturday. Had the Malfoy dinner really only been two nights ago?

"You saw me Saturday night," he said finally. "Came into the office Sunday morning and created this mess, and the rest is history."

"And you didn't see Rose at all, is that right, Scorpius?"

He didn't answer.

Finch grinned. "Okay, wrong question. Of course Scorpius Malfoy didn't see Rose Weasley this weekend. That true for Edgar Spore, as well?"

"I slept with her last night."

Silence.

For once even Finch couldn't summon up any response. The general chatter in the lab didn't subside, but to Scorpius there was utter silence in their little corner of the room as he watched his best friend consider his bombshell.

"As Spore."

Scorpius couldn't look at Finch. "Yes."

"Have you told her?"

Of course not. "No."

"Dammit, Scorp -"

He wanted to argue, wanted to defend himself, but suddenly he just didn't have the energy. "I can't, okay? I can't have her as Scorpius -"

"Maybe if you asked!"

"She likes Spore," Scorpius said flatly. "She likes Spore, and she's happy to... be with him, and right now that's all I want."

"This wasn't what you wanted when you started."

He put the paper he was holding back onto the desk. "I just want to enjoy this while I can, okay?"

Finch didn't say anything for a while. He stared down at the notebook in his hands, but Scorpius could tell his eyes weren't moving. "Are you ever going to tell her?"

"I'm not going to see her again."

When had he decided that?

Finch smirked, finally looking up at him. "That bad, was she?"

"Shut up, you bastard."

"What happened?"

"You're going to hate me for this." Scorpius took a breath. "I don't remember."

And Harry Finch-Fletchley* burst out laughing. "You're serious? You finally got the one thing you've wanted since, what, third year? And you don't even frigging remember it?"

"You don't think I've already beaten myself up over this?"

Neither of them noticed the footsteps approaching their corner. Until the shadow passed over Scorpius' desk, and disappeared.

Finch looked up, suddenly aware of their surroundings again. "Flint," he muttered. "Don't look now."

So Scorpius looked, of course, and though the man's head was turned away from him he would have sworn he saw a smirk cross his lips as Scorpius stared at his back. He told himself he was being ridiculous, but it didn't stop the shiver that ran up his spine at the sight of the man who was about to ruin his life.

And his clipboard.

He was overreacting. The memory of the woman who'd run through before flashed into his mind. Bianca something-or-other, and she was right - it was just a job, and there'd be other jobs, and so what if none of them were as perfect as this one was? So what if he'd completely lose the respect of the girl he'd been pining after for years? So what if -

"You're getting wound up again," Finch whispered in his ear, and Scorpius jumped, feeling flustered.

"He's going to come here soon, isn't he?"

Finch shrugged. "Far as anyone can tell the order's totally random. You could be next, you could be next week -"

"Let's plan for sometime today, shall we?" Putting things off hadn't done him any good in the last three weeks - or three years.

"Tell you what," Finch told him, glancing at the clock. "It's just on twelve now. Why don't we go out for lunch, talk about nothing -"

"All talk of Rose and work forbidden?"

"You're no fun at all."

Scorpius straightened. "What if my name comes up next?"

"You can tell him lunch is an essential part of the productive workman's day. Merlin, Scorp, he might be a reformer but he's not about to let you starve."

"You sure about that?" Scorpius glared at Flint's dark hair. He could definitely see the man as a modern-day slave driver. Flint's reply, though, was interrupted by the beginning of the bell-ringing.

Lunch was uneventful, and the hours following it contained some of the most tense moments of Scorpius Malfoy's life.

Every footstep was a stomp, every click of a pen was the snap of that damned clipboard. Finally a single clock chimed four, and Finch announced that he really had to go.

"We've done everything we can, mate. It's all up to you now."

"You're leaving?" Scorpius asked as Finch eased off his stool.

They'd worked mostly in silence after lunch. It hadn't seemed right to talk. The cafe upstairs had been one thing, but the mood in the office that afternoon had been sombre. The effects of the morning's culling, as Finch had put it, had begun to show.

The two desks closest to the trainee corner had been cleared out. Nearly a quarter of the cubicles in the chamber itself were now empty, and the visual impact of it left a far more powerful impression than the abstract warnings they'd had in the last few days.

"Hell of a recruitment job they've got ahead of them," one man had said, leaning over Scorpius' desk halfway through the afternoon. Tucked away as it was at the back of the room, though still open enough that the 'powers that be' wouldn't suspect conspiracy, the trainee corner had become a bit of a gathering point through the day.

Mike Edison snorted. "Depends if they want them back, doesn't it? Heard he fired them because they weren't doing anything 'constructive', he's hardly likely to want to replace them, is he?"

"Still, it's a big cut to the team," another woman said worriedly, peaking her head around a large jar, and most of the group nodded.

"Budget cuts," someone muttered, before a cough had alerted them to Flint's arrival.

Now, Scorpius looked around at the near-empty chamber. It all felt so sudden, dammit! He'd left work on Friday thinking maybe he'd have to put a bit more effort in - and now on Monday afternoon the entire office could talk of nothing else but Flint's overhaul.

"He couldn't have given us two weeks probation?" Scorpius muttered as Finch gathered up his things. "At least this way we know, I suppose."

Finch smiled slightly. "Just remember, you're not fired yet."

"Yet." Scorpius glanced at the small pile of papers they'd reduced his desk to. He couldn't help thinking he was glad Finch had come over - not for his help with his case, but for his help cleaning out his desk.

This morning he'd been full of hopeful optimism, when Finch had first suggested all was not lost.

Now?

The list of papers on his desk looked pitifully small, the numbers in the Galleons Saved or Earned column even smaller.

Finch patted him on the back, probably more sharply than he'd intended - then turned to face him, his eyes suddenly serious. "Look, Scorp, this is enough to show you've done something. Don't overthink it, just remember what we talked about. You haven't been wasting your time here."

He closed his eyes, and Scorpius got the feeling he had something more to say. He waited.

"But you've got to do something about your trainee project." He opened his eyes and looked straight at Scorpius. "He's impatient. He's going to want to close it off as part of his reforms. Just give him something, okay? It doesn't matter what it is. I can't help you, Scorp, I don't know your project, but dammit, you've got to show something!

Scorpius nodded. "I really appreciate your help today," he said honestly. Even if he wasn't sure it'd be worth it.

Because it all came down to him stopping Time.

He sighed, turning back to the pile of notebooks and papers in front of him. He resisted the urge to shuffle through them, sort them again in some other order -

"Malfoy, hmm?"

He could only stare blankly at the man looming over him. He was bulkier than he'd looked from further away, and Scorpius suddenly wondered how he'd ended up with a desk job. Maybe he hadn't wanted it, and that was why he was taking it out on all the rest of them.

He tried to smile, but he felt like a corpse. One of those skulls you saw in the brain room with all their teeth, their mouths stretched back to halfway up their faces. So he stopped, and Flint tapped his clipboard impatiently.

"Looks like I won't be seeing you today," he said conversationally. "Pity. I was rather looking forward to your interview. Knew your dad at school - played Quidditch with my brother. Gotta love the old Slytherin ties, don't you?"

Scorpius decided it was probably prudent not to mention he'd been in Ravenclaw.

"Gonna say something for yourself?" Flint demanded, but Scorpius' mouth suddenly felt dry, and he couldn't have said a word to save his life.

So he smiled again, tapping inanely on one of his workbooks. Merlin, Flint was going to think he'd escaped from Mungo's...

"Might as well get home early." Flint waved the clipboard around, and Scorpius had to duck discreetly to avoid a direct hit. He had a feeling it hadn't been entirely accidental, either. "Looks like you're first up tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," Scorpius managed.

Flint looked down at his notes, more carefully this time, and Scorpius' heart sank as his lips curled into a smile. "I look forward to watching a live demonstration of the results of your little project, Mr Malfoy..."

"I'm not going to see her again."

Scorpius heard the words, echoing in his head as clearly as they had when he'd first spat them out at Finch that morning.

So why was he standing in front of her door, only three hours later, his hand poised to knock and his brain asking him what the hell he was doing?

He wondered if she knew he was there again. If she was sitting inside, waiting for him to pluck up the courage to actually knock. Or if she'd gone to bed, or gone out, or she didn't want to see him -

And it'd be perfectly reasonable if she didn't, wouldn't it?

He sighed, and knocked quickly before he could stop himself. He knew he should be at home, knew he should be making the most of the few hours he had left to come up with something to show Flint.

But he couldn't leave Rose hanging.

So here he was.

The door opened. "Edgar!" Rose exclaimed, smiling widely, but she didn't move to embrace him.

Which, again, made sense. It wasn't as though they had the kind of relationship where they could hug each other.

Although Scorpius could do with a little physical comforting right now.

"I have to apologise," he said stiffly, still standing on the doorstep.

She gestured for him to come in, her smile no longer quite so wide. "For what?"

"Last night. I took advantage of you."

"Took advantage -?" Rose gave him an incredulous look. "What is this, the nineteenth century? And how do you even remember what happened? You were pissed out of your mind!"

He scowled. "You know exactly how to cheer a man up, don't you?"

"Apology accepted, however unnecessary. Personally I think it's more likely that I took advantage of you..."

He smiled at her teasing, but for once it did nothing to ease the mood he was in. "Can we talk on the balcony?" he asked abruptly, and she narrowed her eyes at him, considering.

Then she nodded, and they walked through her living room to the balcony door. He didn't look at the couch.

It was funny. Just this morning he'd been thinking the Malfoy dinner party had seemed ages ago. Now the memory of waking up with Rose gave him the same feeling.

They stood in silence for a while, him leaning against the balcony, her sitting on one of the chairs.

"Is something wrong?" Rose asked finally.

He raised his eyebrows at her. "You guessed."

"A monkey could've!"

"You're much prettier than a monkey," he said impulsively, and her cheeks flushed pink in the lamplight.

"Work?" she asked, though, instead of replying.

Yes. Not that unemployed Edgar Spore could admit that.

Although Scorpius Malfoy had been thinking he and Edgar had rather a lot in common at the moment.

"I'm useless. Bloody useless." The words tumbled out before he could stop them, thrown out over the balcony because he knew he couldn't say them to Rose's face. "Isn't everyone supposed to be successful?"

"There are a lot of different definitions of success -"

"Most of which require a job, I think you'll find."

"You don't need money to spend time doing things that fascinate you. That inspire you."

"And where do you think most people get that intellectual stimulation from? You don't get much pissing around at home, that's for sure."

"So get a job -" Rose cut off, flushing red all over her face. "I'm sorry."

"I never realised how much I need it before I..." There wasn't really a way he could explain losing his job when he wasn't supposed to have one in the first place.

"Needed what?"

"That stimulation. The excitement, the tedium, the coworkers -" He flung a hand out over the balcony.

"It's not just that, is it?" He looked back at Rose, and was shocked to see her wringing her hands in her lap. The sight was so incongruent with his vision of Rose that he nearly laughed out loud. "I've never come close to losing - to being unemployed. I don't know how I could live without the stability of it."

He turned back to face the horizon. "I always thought I'd support a family one day."

It was a Scorpius thing to say. Edgar wouldn't dream of saying it, and he was skirting close to dangerous territory, but he didn't care. He had to be Edgar tonight, had to sort this out, but dammit he wasn't going to let a fragment of his imagination get in the way of a conversation with his best friend!

He tried to imagine a future with Rose - but all he could see was her walking through the front door, Galleons streaming from her hands, while he slunk in through the window and told her he'd lost another job.

He was open-minded, dammit, but he wasn't going to sit around while his wife paid for the meals on his table...

"A big one?" Rose asked behind him, and he smiled a little at that. Of course that would be the question she'd ask.

"Big enough."

He remembered Flint and his clipboard and decided on three. One for every house except Slytherin. His mother would kill him.

He leaned over the railing, contemplating the view below. Rose lived on the third floor. A pretty big bump if you fell.

He leaned further, and closed his eyes.

He should go home, he thought suddenly. He'd come here to apologise and he'd done it. There was no other reason to stay. It wasn't like he planned a repeat of the night before.

She hadn't confirmed or denied anything about last night. They were acting like it hadn't happened, and he didn't know whether to be glad or not.

He wished it hadn't.

Not as Spore, anyway. The familiar ache in his stomach clenched up again - was he going to spend the rest of his life with a fist in his gut? He leaned over even further, his body bent over the railing, willing the cold metal bar to push it out, push it away -

"Scorpius, no!"