Disclaimer: I do not ever, under any circumstances, think it is alright to call a woman a whore… however Rose had her own ideas in this chapter and was feeling rather persecuted. Also she's fifteen and is therefore rather less careful with her words then, for example, her mother might be.
Chapter 4: Fifth Year
Dating other people is, frankly, confusing. Not only does it mean that he must constantly strive to control the overwhelming jealousy he feels whenever he sees her with any male that is not a member of her family, it also means that he must strive to keep up with her serial monogamy. Why he feels the need to keep score he cannot say. He only knows that if she will insist on driving him to the brink of insanity, he will return the favour. Problematically he cannot think of the string of girls he flirts with or snogs or takes to Madame Puddifoot's as anything but place holders. Nevertheless he becomes expert at flirty small talk and gets to know the ins and outs of the Hogwarts broom closets rather well.
He happens to be dating Chelsea Hopkins at the beginning of fifth year while Rose is between 'disposables'. Chelsea is a sixth year Ravenclaw with long blonde hair and a perfect hourglass figure. She has made him the envy of every male in his year and has therefore lasted longer than previous attachments. He is walking her to her seat at the Ravenclaw table with his arm slung across her shoulders when Rose's voice cuts into their Transfiguration discussion.
"Hey Malfoy!" He turns his head, looking past Chelsea to Rose. She sits in a sea of red but he picks her out and recognises the look of mischief on her face immediately. Her chin tilts and her eyebrow arches in challenge as she addresses a single questioning word to him.
"Still?"
The corner of his mouth tugs up to match hers involuntarily. There is a space of some moments in which Chelsea and the sea of Weasley cousins cease to exist and Scorpius tries to test how long he can go without answering her. Rose's smile never falters, in fact it seems to grow with every second she is the focus of his attention.
"Still." He replies at last, turning away from her so that he does not witness the Cheshire cat grin that is due to make an appearance on her face any second.
Chelsea is making bewildered inquiries but he doesn't hear her. Instead he hears Dominique Weasley of the Weasley Inquisition.
"Rose Henrietta Weasley, do explain what that little showdown was about. Immediately."
"I was just asking Scorpius if we're still on for Charms practise tonight." Rose replies in her most innocent voice; the one she only uses when she is one hundred percent guilty.
"If that was about Charms I'm a blast-ended screwt. You, my rosiest of Roses, were marking your territory!"
The rest of the conversation is unfortunately lost to him, as even Dom's sonorous voice cannot carry far in the Dining Hall at lunch time, but he is left with a smug sense of victory nonetheless.
They find a temporary equilibrium afterwards. They are friends, they laugh and tease and flirt, they fight a little and study together a lot and almost perfect the art of dancing around each other by using 'still' as a kind of touchstone.
"Do you still want to study for Transfiguration tonight?"
"Do you still have that library book out?"
"Why are you still wearing that hideous scarf?"
"Why are you still wearing that hideous face?"
"Are we still on for Zonko's this Saturday?"
"Are you still dating Eileen Jones?"
"Do you still like Puddlemere for the cup this year?"
"Are you still going to duelling this evening?"
And always the answer is 'still'; a word that encompasses so many affirmatives. Yes, I still want to kiss you. Yes, the boy whose hand I'm holding is still just a placeholder. Yes, when she rests her head on my shoulder I think about you. Yes, I still belong to you and you still belong to me. Still is a balm for all jealousy and insecurity for almost all of fifth year… right up until Brendan Adams makes his entrance.
He's an arsehole; a seventh year Gryffindor quidditch player with a sparkling smile and an ego larger than Slughorn's belly. Scorpius cannot stand him from the start. A feeling of general animosity is to be expected with all of Rose's flames. The need to outdo them in classes and clubs and the urge to Jinx them from behind suits of armour are also not unusual. Adams saunters right past animosity and into all-encompassing hatred when he swats Rose on the behind in front of Scorpius before their first date. Rose gazing up into his face as if star struck does not particularly help his case either.
Two weeks into their 'thing' (apparently they're 'together' and 'don't need labels') Scorpius overhears a rather odious conversation on his way to check on his Herbology project. Adams is sitting behind the greenhouses with a couple of the Hufflepuff quidditch players. He is making crude gestures with his grimy hands and describing, in great detail, how Rose looks naked. The surrounding boys heckle and cheer alternately, driving Adams to ever more graphic detail.
In his rage Scorpius completely forgets he owns a wand. He pushes through the huddle of boys, drags Adams forward by his lapels, draws his arm back and then rams his fist into that smarmy pretty boy face. The feel of flesh and bone beneath his knuckles is momentarily satisfying and then just really bloody sore. Adams clutches at his face, spitting swear words and tries to hit Scorpius back. His rather hampered attempts are rebuffed and he is felled by a merciless knee to the groin. Scorpius steps over the writhing figure, shaking his right hand, and makes for the History corridor, Herbology project forgotten.
He lurks in an empty classroom until he hears the rumblings of her class packing up. They spill out of the classroom, all in a rather sleepy daze, and begin to meander towards dinner. He strides up to her, takes hold of her elbow and begins to purposefully steer her in the opposite direction.
"Scorpius? What's going on?" He ignores her, continuing to drag her towards a hideous tapestry depicting her parents and Harry Potter camping in the Scotch countryside. He yanks the monstrosity aside, opens the door behind it and waves a hand for her to enter. She finds herself in a small study. He shuts the door firmly behind them and then rounds on her.
"Are you sleeping with Brendan Adams?" He demands. She stares at him in shocked silence as her brain struggles to switch on and accept what he has just said to her. She slowly turns a glowing scarlet.
"What?"
"Brendan Adams. Are you screwing him?"
"How dare you ask me such a question?" She spits, stalking towards him, index finger at the ready. "As if my sex life is any of your business." She pokes him in the chest and continues to advance, forcing him backward. "And what kind of… of… Scarlett Woman do you take me for?" Poke, poke. "We've been on two bloody dates!"
"So that's a no then?" He feels considerably calmer in spite of the fact that she is still jabbing her finger into his chest at regular intervals.
"I'm going to wring your neck you infuriating prat!" He grabs her hands before she can try.
"You didn't let him see you naked did you?" Rose emits a rather terrifying sound, a scream that she is refusing to allow past her lips. Then she kicks his shin. He hops about on one leg plotting Adams's demise.
"I'm going to pull his entrails out through his nostrils and then gag him with his large intestine. I'm going to tie him to the goal posts and let the bludgers loose on him. I'm going to…"
"…explain your shocking bad manners immediately?" Her arms were crossed and the expression on her face was a dangerous one. Her wand had migrated from her pocket into her hand.
"Don't even try getting testy with me. Your prat of a boyfriend is the one describing you naked to anyone who'll listen!"
"Which led to you believe that I'm sleeping with him?" Her words are harsh and rushed, as if it angers her that they are passing her lips. He begins to get the sense that things are going awry.
"Which led me to consider the possibility." He huffs.
"Which naturally led you to dragging me in here and calling me a whore?"
"I did no such thing!"
"You implied it!" She growls, glaring at him.
"You know I don't think that about you."
"You're just considering the possibility?" The sarcasm in her voice is still sharp, but she physically withdraws; no more poking or advancing. Her anger is so much easier to handle than her hurt.
"Rosie, I didn't mean it like that, I swear."
"Well it certainly sounded as if you did."
"I was angry and jealous and I just saw red. I'm an idiot." He says quietly, drawing closer to her and smoothing his hands up and down her arms. His face is tilted down towards hers but she's determinedly studying their feet.
"You thought I slept with someone else."
"I didn't think Rose. I promise you, if I had stopped to think I would have known better." There is a long uncomfortable silence. He feels like a prisoner waiting for his sentence to be handed down.
"Is this because you're sleeping with someone else?"
"No!"
"You were awfully quick to jump to conclusions Scorpius… and well, Chelsea Hopkins? Who would blame you?" Her voice has gone flat and tired. He inches even closer to her and brings his hands up to frame her face. He tilts her chin so she's looking at him.
"I do not want to do that with anyone but you." He refuses to break eye contact, staring down at her until he knows she believes what he's told her. Then her head tilts ever-so-slightly into a nod and she melts into him, burying her face into the crook of his neck. Her tears are silent but he feels them soaking the collar of his shirt. He holds her tighter and whispers platitudes into her hair. One of his hands runs soothingly up and down her back and as he waits for her to cry herself out he wonders how the hell he managed to rescue this one. He shudders as he thinks of the few moments when he felt her slipping away.
She pulls back and then takes a step away from him, sniffing and swiping at her eyes.
"Merlin, I'm a mess." She says, drying her eyes with the sleeve of her robes. He reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear.
"You're beautiful."
He steps closer and presses his lips to her forehead. Her eyes close and she sighs softly. His head dips and he kisses her eyelids. He traces his nose down the line of hers and rests his forehead against hers. His half lidded eyes gaze into hers, gently seeking permission. She tilts her head and gently brushes his mouth with hers.
AN: Sorry that this took a while. I've been moving and have no internet at home at the moment. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'd really appreciate feedback… seriously, why the silence?
Thank you to: demoninthenight; peacock33, youcunt and my anonymous reviewer! You guys are awesome!