Chapter Eight

When Scorpius was not in classes, he was with her. She started to smell of sweat and fever on the second day, and through her protests of, "I'm fine!" and, "This is ludicrous! The only sickness I have is stir craziness," Quince consigned her to four more days. Her eyes glazed and she only recognized Scorpius half the time when he visited her.

It was a short time, but it was a bad time. Scorpius did not know how to deal with these feelings he was having for her, this gut-gnawing worry and this desperate pull toward her, like she was a planet and he a mere piece of space detritus tugged by accident into her orbit. He could not get anything related to the case done, and he began to drown his anxiety in sex.

The sex or makeout sessions—which it was varied depending on the girl and the day—weren't bad, mostly. It was just that he felt empty in a way he had before, but hadn't noticed as much. And girls got frustrated with him because he operated essentially on the Hospital Wing's visiting hours. He was not once late for a visit with Rose.

Albus noticed, and tried to dissuade his friend, unnerved at just how off-kilter and out of sorts the usually unflappable Scorpius was. But Scorpius refused, always arriving late for his clandestine closet/Room of Requirement meetings and always leaving early so as to be sure to bring Rose this textbook or that homework.

Scorpius was aware, on some level, just how deeply and inordinately this was affecting him, but chose not to care. He delivered his hollow kisses and received hollow head, all the while worrying at how sick Rose had looked last time he checked on her.

He arrived now, hair tousled and sweaty, his arms full of books. He made his way to the familiar bed, where Rose was sitting up reading. He smiled at her. "Hey, Rose. How are you?"

She looked up and smiled back at him. "Evening, Scorpius." Her gaze turned a bit disapproving as she eyed his appearance. "I am fine, but you are looking a bit the worse for wear. You get in a fight or something?"

"Not exactly," he said tersely. "Anyway, I brought you your books. They're damn heavy."

She accepted his change of topic with only a wry eyebrow for comment and said, "Thank you, I know. And the substantive portion is much lighter than the thing itself." She reached over to take one, putting down her book, but Scorpius placed them at the edge of the bed.

"Not yet. Talk to me a bit first."

She laughed and said, "Y'know, time was when you'd do anything to avoid talking to me."

"Time was when you'd realize that if I'm willing to haul ass over here and stay all hours of the night, I expect some kind of reward."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine. Any news on the Ella case? Do you remember anything? Find out anything new?"

Scorpius cleared his throat. "Haven't really been able to concentrate on that too much lately."

"Haven't you? So what have you been doing, when not carting around my textbooks?" she asked teasingly, leaning forward on her elbows.

He fought a grin. She looked sweet like that, all impetuous smile and eyes bright with amusement rather than fever. He sighed. "When the hell are you getting out of here, Rose?"

Rose sighed too. "I don't know. Quince said four days last time, right? It's been three, and I feel pretty good. Believe me, I'm going so stir crazy I actually tried to sneak out."

Scorpius laughed with surprise. "Did you?"

She proceeded to tell him the whole story, which of course involved her being unable to sleep, and then climbing out the window and making so much noise because she was tired and sick and uncoordinated that Quince caught her and made her take a Sleeping Draught.

"Oh god. Oh Rose, what a stupid—oh, you bloody insane bint. See, if I'd have been there—" he smiled—"you would've gotten out."

She rolled her eyes. "The sad thing is, I believe you."

"But seriously, you need to get some rest if you're going to get better. Sleep is really important—"

"Yes, Mother." She gave him a pointed look.

His grin turned sheepish. "Sorry. But it's hard not to mother you. You're always—I don't know—endangering yourself. And if you don't hurry up and get better, I won't be able to work up enough focus to get to the bottom of the Ella thing."

She wrinkled her nose. "We need to think of a better name for it." She thought a moment. "I'm always endangering myself?" She raised a wry eyebrow.

"You are. Taking curses for me, getting sick, trying to sneak out the window…"

"Pfft. That's not dangerous," she laughed.

He shook his head. "You're impossible."

They were quiet for a time, during which Rose stared at him thoughtfully and he sat silently, trying to let her ride out her thoughts. Finally he couldn't take it and asked, "What's eating you?"

"Nothing, just—why the hell are we friends now? I mean, I hated you for six years, and now after all of, what, two weeks, I can't remember why." She frowned. "It's kind of weird, is all."

Scorpius shrugged. "It is a bit strange, I guess. I never really thought about it." He couldn't stop himself from adding, "Once it started, it just felt… natural." He sighed. "I don't know. I think it's a bit like magnets, you know? On one side they repel each other, but if you turn them around…"

She was smiling. "That's such a cheesy analogy. But it makes sense."

He returned her grin. "I know."

Suddenly they both heard someone laughing, and Albus came around to sit on the side of the bed. "Well damn. That's a sight I never thought I'd see."

"What?" Rose asked confusedly. Scorpius stayed silent, knowing a setup when he saw one.

"My cousin and my best friend agreeing on something."

Rose stuck her tongue out at him. "Whatever, Albus. Just accept the newfound peace and quiet."

They all talked until the boys had to leave for dinner. Scorpius would have skipped his meal, but Albus dragged him away. They walked quietly in the hall for a while.

Then Albus finally broke the silence. "Mate," he said softly but insistently, "you're sweet on Rosie, aren't you?"

Scorpius blinked. "No. Why would you say that?"

Albus raised his eyebrows. "Because I know you, Scorp. You're giving her that 'sun shines out of your ass' look."

Scorpius laughed a bit nervously. "Sun shines out of—I wasn't aware I had such a look."

"You do. You looked at Emily that way."

Scorpius winced. Emily Carter had been one of his few "serious" girlfriends. He had been in love with her, really in love with her, but finally she had broken it off. She told him he was too clingy and overprotective. He had gotten over it, and she had since transferred out of Hogwarts, but he still didn't enjoy discussing the relationship's rocky trajectory. "Did you have to mention her? She's distant past."

"And Rose is the future?"

"No. I don't see why you're insisting I feel anything other than friendship towards your cousin."

"Because I fucking know when you're lying, Scorpius!" Albus sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, if you say you really don't, I'll believe you. If you look sincere. Which you didn't, just now." He put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's—you know, it's not like I'd necessarily mind, if you did. Don't worry about that. If you hurt her—well, that'd be a different story. But I think—" he stopped himself. "So. Do you? Like her?"

Scorpius threw his hands in the air. "She's fucking insane. And really smart. And I have no idea what I had against her before. She's frustrating as hell and I don't know what the fuck to do with her, except I know I want to do something."

Albus raised an eyebrow.

Scorpius gave him a look.

Albus stared back.

Finally, Scorpius sighed deeply and said, "So what if I did? Just a little bit?"

Albus smirked. "Knew it."

Scorpius waved a dismissive hand at his friend. "Yeah, whatever. Smartass." He shrugged, mood darkening. "But it's not like I could do anything about it. Even if I did feel strongly—which I don't, I'll admit that I feel something but I'm not about to bend down on one knee—my father and her father would kill us both."

Albus studied him, then said slowly, "I don't know about that, Scorp. Uncle Ron is actually pretty accepting. He just has to be given time to come around. He's nice to you at Christmas and summers, isn't he?"

"Nice enough. Me being your friend is one thing. Me being involved with his daughter—don't get any ideas—is entirely another."

Albus shrugged. "I'm not going to make you date my cousin, Scorp. I just want you to understand that if you do—well, I would be fine with it. Just as long," his intense green gaze caught Scorpius's, "as you promise not to hurt her."

Scorpius shook his head. "I don't think I could if I tried anymore. I promise you that if something does happen between Rose and me—which it won't—I will try my best not to hurt your cousin, and to make amends for it if I do. You have my word."

Albus nodded. "And you understand that if you break your promise—not that I think you will—family is extremely important, and it will be my duty to protect Rosie?"

Scorpius smiled at his friend. "You have my express permission to beat me up and lock me in a portable loo."

Albus laughed. "All right. Sorry about the interrogation."

Scorpius shook his head, indicating he wasn't upset. "But I'm not madly in love with your cousin or anything." He paused. "And if you say anything to her, you are a dead man, best friend or not."

Albus stuck out his tongue. "I won't tell her. She'll probably figure it out."

Scorpius's stomach dropped. "Oh shit. You think so? You know there can't be anything between us, there just—"

Albus guffawed. "Calm the fuck down, man! Rosie's good with books, but she's only good with people that appreciate her honesty. She doesn't know how they work like you do."

And as soon as the words left Albus's mouth, Scorpius knew they weren't true. She could use, had used Demetri Ivers, he had seen it in his eyes and in her face, and there was no question about it. Albus wasn't lying, he could see the honesty in his friend's deep green eyes, but he knew somehow the underlying untruth of it. And it wasn't that he thought Rose was bad—how could something so clean and beautiful and pure and young be bad? But he knew she wasn't the innocent her cousin thought she was. And he wanted instantly to know (because everything about this girl pulled him in and turned him inside out and hurt him and elated him) why there was this discrepancy, how it had come about, what the real story was.

He shrugged and said a blank, "All right," wanting very badly to go back and—what? Confront her? Entreat her? He had questions, many questions, but didn't know how to pose them. Whether she thought them close enough even to answer.

He had a date after dinner, but he was thinking of canceling, because once again he could feel her tugging him inexorably into her orbit. She called his name in that affectionate way she called Albus, with a burning in her eyes that he'd never actually seen but knew must hide somewhere in their dark, tumultuous depths.

He snorted. God. "No, I'm only a little in love with her." He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, the fingernails of his other hand pressing into his palm. Shit. I need to stop. This is bad for me. I'm going to see that girl—what's her name? Amelia?

"Scorpius?"

Scorpius shook his head to clear his thoughts, then smiled over at his friend. "I'm fine. Let's go eat."

#

Amelia, he discovered, was a sloppy kisser. Her name also wasn't Amelia. It was Alana. She was rather a loud moaner, too, and he found himself wishing he'd cast a more powerful silencing spell. He was able to overlook the sloppy thing for a while, and for a minute or two he was really into it. But for a minute or two he had thought he felt auburn hair under his fingers, and freckled cheeks brushing his. The sun had always been generous with Rose Weasley.

It had not been generous with Amelia, who was pale and small and emaciated. She had equally diminutive dark eyes through which shone her Slytherin cunning, and a sharp slash of a nose.

She had her hands all over his shirt buttons, mouthing messily at the skin between the cloth. Oh, for god's sake. I really don't want to be doing this. My pride is not going to allow me to go see Rose, but my time could be more profitably spent sleeping.

"I'm sorry, Alana, I just realized—I'm going to be late for rounds. I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. Scorpius was good at lying.

"Oh." She said, disappointed. "Well… you could skip rounds…" She trailed a finger down his chest.

He sighed inwardly. This bint obviously does not know how being a prefect works. "No, if I skip once more, they'll strip me of prefect status," Scorpius said firmly but adding the proper dosage of regret to his tone.

"All right. But owl me," she said in a way she thought was seductive. She walked away swaying her hips.

Scorpius sighed deeply, started walking. It took him until he was about halfway down the hall to realize where he was going. He stopped, leaned against the wall. "Oh, shit." He closed his eyes and let the darkness coat his eyelids. "She's getting out tomorrow, probably," he told himself aloud. "I don't need to see her today. I don't want to see her—" he paused. "Fuck." And he kept going towards the Hospital Wing.

He had not too much trouble sneaking in—Quince was out and pretty much everyone but Rose was sleeping. She did not see him immediately, being immersed in her book, and he watched her tuck an unruly curl behind her ear. Finally he cleared his throat, walking over.

"Scorpius!" she said happily, and then giggled as she put her hands over her mouth, realizing she'd been too loud.

He gave her a wan, thin smile. "Hi."

"So," she whispered from behind her hands, eyes bright, "Quince is letting me out tomorrow."

"Is she? That's good. I still haven't been able to get anything done without my muse." He poked her nose over her hands to show that he meant her.

She took her hands away from her face, grinning. "You're so bloody pompous."

"I know. So are you." He sighed. "So you feel all better now?"

"Yes. Except that I've got to finish this homework before I sleep if I'm going to classes tomorrow."

"Your health is more important than your homework, Rose. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true," Scorpius said, his tone half teasing, half serious.

"Mm. I don't know about that, Scorpius," she said, eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, by the way, Ella's finally out of the hospital… but someone else is in."

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. "You think it was them?"

Rose sighed. "There was a bandage around the kid's head. He's been unconscious for three days, and I heard he was hanging by his wrists from a beam in the Great Hall. And—" her eyes darted around the room—"there was another Dark Mark by his head."

Scorpius's brow furrowed. "Who found him?" He thought some more, then added, "Unconscious? So we can't interview him?"

She laughed. "Aren't you going to ask whether he's all right? Some teachers found him."

Scorpius waved a playful hand at her. "Well, is he?"

"Mostly. He'll live." Rose sighed. "I have to get out of here. We have to figure out who did this."

"I know. I really—I just don't remember fucking anything. It's really frustrating."

Rose rubbed at her eyes, prompting Scorpius to open his mouth with an anxious, "Are you tired? Should I go?" on his tongue, but she continued, saying, "I have a few guesses. They're shaky, but—do you have a quill and parchment?"

Scorpius quickly turned and rummaged through his bag, easily coming up with a self-inking quill and fresh parchment, and handed them over to Rose with a flourish. She rolled her eyes, then quickly scratched out ten names. She blew on the ink, folding the paper crisply. "It should be self-evident that if you drop this someplace, we could get in a lot of trouble," she said in a low voice, her gaze heavy on his face.

"It is. I won't." He paused. "Exactly how certain are you of these guesses?"

Rose sighed. "None of them a hundred percent, that's for sure. But I've had some time to think and rule out people as objectively as I can. On average, I'd say—sixty to seventy percent sure?" She tangled her fingers in the bedding. "God, I hate this. Did I have to endure this Sectumsempra shit for nothing?"

He smiled softly at her. "This is something, isn't it?"

She looked at him, sighed. Slowly, tentatively, she reached out a hand, which he eagerly took. They stayed like that for a while. Scorpius wanted to open his mouth to tell her to sleep, he should leave—after all, he was getting so fucking dependent on the feel of that slender hand in his, wasn't he?—but he stayed, because how often exactly did Rose Weasley feel affectionate, particularly towards him?

She was moving again, at that same dragging, uncertain pace, bringing his hand—where, oh god, where, where? She brought it to rest on her cheek, the corner of her mouth pressing into his palm like a flower hastily pressed into the hand of a lover (and if he's thinking metaphors like that, he's really in trouble). "I trust you," she whispered into his hand, so quietly that he could only just determine what she had said by the movements of her lips. "Be careful."

He couldn't look at her. Fuck, did she know what she did to him? After such a short—

But then, had it really been so short a time? His father would often joke (with a hint of warning in his voice that Scorpius had to get older to catch) that if he pulled Rose Weasley's pigtails one more time, her hair would just fall out.

Scorpius shifted uncomfortably. He really didn't want to think about that right now. He closed his eyes, opened them again, responded to her request hushed like a prayer: "I will. You too. Please."

That quiet little laugh, and he didn't know why they were both speaking so softly now but it didn't matter. She let go of his hand, placing the parchment and quill in his palm in the same motion. "Good night, Scorpius."

And some five minutes later, he was walking down the hall in a confused state of longing and emptiness and fullness and wondering when the bloody hell he had fallen so hard for this girl. Why he had fallen so hard for this girl, when it could only end in a train wreck.