Happy Thursday morning, all! Thanks so much to all that have reviewed so far. Please please please keep letting me know what you think! The next chapter will be short, and it will be up fairly quickly, never fear!

This chapter is rated T for language and mildly suggestive themes.

Chapter 6: A Man Named Merlin

I still couldn't believe it.

It was the day of the concert. Albus, Lysander, and Nate were practicing in the Room of Requirement. They had insisted that I come and practice with them, but I told them it was pointless. They would need to prepare the songs without me.

So instead of practicing with my band, I was sitting on my four-poster, my legs crossed, staring at the dress that was hanging down from the canopy. I had hung it there last week after my mom had sent it. It was a short, tight, sparkly, black shimmering dress, sleeveless with thick black straps, but the "V" in the front and in the back dipped dangerously low. My mother had insisted that it was too revealing, but I told her it was a concert—everyone would be dressed like this.

In my mind, though, I'd hoped that I would stand out—make people whisper as I walked in the room. I wanted people to look at me and notice me. I wanted people to see me. I'd gone years hiding in the shadows, but no more.

Now, my dress was hanging on my four-poster, looking lonesome and forgotten—it was such a sad, pathetic metaphor for my life.

The worst part was that everyone around me seemed smug. Other than Lucy, Albus, Nate, and Lysander, I could sense that everyone felt like I'd gotten what I deserved. Meg had been more cheerful around the dormitory for the last few days, and every time I saw Hadley, he was laughing hysterically about something. The word had gotten around that I would be missing my band opening for the concert, and I didn't know if I was paranoid or if everyone was pleased about my downfall.

I was sitting on my bed, plotting my revenge against Malfoy, when Lucy walked in.

"Hey," she said.

I didn't say anything.

"Albus is downstairs. He's looking for you."

I checked my watch. They should have still been practicing. Without saying anything to Lucy, I walked down toward the common room, cursing the antiquated spells that stopped men from coming into our rooms. Albus doesn't even fucking like girls.

Albus was standing at the foot of the stairs patiently. Wordlessly, I walked passed him and sat on the couch in front of the fire. He came over and sat next to me.

"This sucks," he said.

"I know."

A few moments of silence passed.

"So the guys and I were talking…" Albus started. I looked at him. He seemed fidgety, nervous. "We… we decided not to open for Wear the Wolves."

I whipped my head to face him. "What?"

"We need you, Rose. We—"

"What are you talking about? You—"

"We can't. We—"

"No, you shut the fuck up, Albus. If you guys don't open," I clenched my jaw and spoke through my teeth. "I'll never forgive you."

"Rose, we need you. What are we going to do? We need the uke, and we need your violin, and we need your vocals. We just… We need you. This was supposed to be for all of us—our chance—"

"And you aren't going to waste that chance just because I'm not there. You'll just have to do the songs that don't require the ukulele or the violin. We have tons of songs, Al. Listen to me." I turned to face him on the couch. "Opportunities like this don't come along often. We get one shot—one fucking shot—and you aren't going to throw it away just because I'm not there. You're going to go out there and play the—the best goddamn set we've ever played. Because—because this shit is—it doesn't just come around. There aren't going to be other chances—other concerts. This is it. You aren't going to toss it away out of some displaced sense of fucking loyalty to me. Fuck that."

Albus looked at me, his jaw clenched. "But who will sing?" he said desperately. "Lysander and Nate—"

"You have to sing, Al."

"I can't. I—"

"You're the only one who can. I know you get scared, but it's our only hope. You have to sing."

"What about your new song? It's so good. You should be singing it."

"I'll have tons of opportunities to sing it."

"None like this."

And he was right. Silence fell over us as we both sat deep in thought, each contemplating the position we were in. There would never be another chance like this—I was certain of that. And I wanted to sing my song—the song I had finished after my detention with Malfoy a few days ago. It didn't matter if it was good—they had to sing it anyway, without me.

"If you don't play this set, I'll never forgive you, Albus," I said quietly, resolved. "And you'll never forgive yourself."

A few hours later, I was walking into my detention with Malfoy. Of course, he was sitting at his desk—waiting, just waiting for me to come and sit in front of him and serve this undeserved detention while my band got their one shot at actual, real success.

"Ms. Weasley," he said when I walked in. I didn't say anything back. There was nothing to say. "Come this way," he said, gesturing toward the closets that held all the potions materials. I followed wordlessly.

"So for your detention tonight, you'll be reorganizing and restocking the potions cabinets. They're completely abysmal." He glanced at me, expecting me to—what?—agree, commiserate? I ignored him and stared forward at the shelves in front of me. He continued. "I've written out where I want everything on this parchment." He gestured toward a parchment lying on a nearby table. It was an outline of the cabinet with markers for what things he wanted to go where. "You can go off of that. It's fairly straightforward. Any questions?"

I didn't even look at him. I just walked over and grabbed the parchment so I could start working.

I checked my watching. 8:03. The band was supposed to go on at 8:30. Maybe if Malfoy let me out at a decent time, I might be able to catch the tail end of the set. I couldn't get my hopes up for that, though.

I worked mindlessly, fighting back tears. I was livid at Malfoy. Being in the same room with him was making me physically ill—my stomach churning. The hatred I felt for him was overwhelming. It was burning inside me, making my hands shake slightly and my head swim. I tried to blink slowly to clear my head. It didn't work.

He had taken my dream from me—the dream I had confided to him—and he didn't even seem to care, to notice. I should have been with my band—I should have been preparing to go on, and I tried to think of our songs—the songs they would sing tonight—but all I could hear was stupid McGonagall's voice in my head.

"Consider this a lesson."

"You've been cruel to everyone around you for over a year."

It wasn't cruel. What I had done over the last year hadn't been cruel. I just stopped letting everyone treat me like a fucking rug. What kind of lesson was this? For once, I had done nothing wrong, and I was being punished for it. For once, I had decided to stop letting people walk all over me, and now this was some kind of karmic lesson.

Let people treat you like shit, Rose. It's the only way you'll get what you want. That's the only way you'll be happy. Is that what the universe was trying to tell me?

Who cares if I dyed Brenda Ackerman's hair green and it was stuck like that for a month? Brenda had laughed at me for not paying attention and then getting an answer wrong in Charms. And so what if I put that powder in Harriet Bones's bed that made her break out with disgusting boils. Harry had told people about a poem I had written about Hadley a few weeks previous during our break up. She'd humiliated me. And what does it matter if I got Meg and Hadley back and broke them up? They obviously deserved that.

So what kind of message was the universe sending? You stick up for yourself and you get punished. You do nothing wrong and you get punished?

"Consider this a lesson."

My hands were trembling as I worked, and I could feel the backs of my eyes burning. My chin quivered and I took a deep breath.

I couldn't cry. I couldn't think about the fact that the thing I'd been dreaming about for years would happen tonight—my band would be performing as an opening act for a famous band. We had the potential to have our big break and I wouldn't be a part of it. But I wouldn't cry.

But oh, my hands were shaking, and my chest was carrying such a heavy weight like a large stone had settled right on my sternum. I could feel Malfoy's eyes on me as I worked throughout the detention. I sensed him watching my every move, as if I might combust at any minute.

If I did, he would have no one to blame but himself. He was the reason I was on the verge of tears—the tears of missed opportunity. Tears of hatred and anger. He was the reason that I was missing out on the dream I'd had for almost as long as I could remember, and he was the reason that my chest felt like it would collapse under the pressure. But I hated him even more because he was the reason my fingertips had been tingling for weeks. He'd given me inspiration for my new song, and he'd smiled at me. The day he'd given me this detention—right before—he had smiled, and I hated him for that.

I checked my watch. 8:37. They would be on by now. They were probably playing "Magic Woe," which was the song we'd agreed we'd start with. People were probably cheering—screaming—for them. Everyone was probably awed and impressed. No one had heard us before and they would be shocked to find that we actually had talent. I thought of that, and then, for some insane reason, I thought of my little black dress, all alone hanging on my bed.

I couldn't think about any of that. I couldn't think about my lonely dress. I couldn't think about my song.

Minute after minute passed slowly as I continued to reorganize the shelves. I refused to check my watch again—refused to speculate about which song they were playing. But it was so hard. I saw Albus—nervous as hell but singing the songs that he knew so well. I saw Lysander, sweating profusely like he always did when he got too into his drums. I could see Nate up there—looking more stylish than ever. A tan blazer, expensive jeans. Then, for some reason, I imagined Lucy—standing off to the side, looking indifferent and ethereal as she always did because she lacked all social skills. Nate would be playing with so much passion, probably thinking about her when he played the keyboard on our ballads. But Lucy would just be standing there, looking oblivious and sipping punch, smiling weakly.

Then, bizarrely, I smiled. I felt mildly giddy imagining Lucy, and I had no idea why. It was an absurd feeling to have in this moment, but as soon as that feeling was there, it was gone. And I felt the overwhelming urge to cry. I belonged with my people. My hands shook and my heart raced, and suddenly, I heard glass break.

I looked down, snapping out of my trance, and saw shards of glass on the floor. The tears came instantaneously. I bent down to try and sweep up the glass with my hands—not thinking—and I was a little too rough and I cut my hand. I cried out, and suddenly I was sobbing. My hand was bleeding, and I was on my knees in front of one of the supply cabinets, and I was crying. I thought I heard someone saying my name, but I couldn't focus on anything but crying harder than I ever had in my life.

Then, I felt strong arms around my shoulders. In some rational part of my brain, I knew it was Malfoy, but I wasn't feeling rational. I buried my head into his chest and wept for what felt like an eternity.

Eventually, I was able to catch my breath. Eventually, I was able to wipe my tears away and come back to reality. Eventually, there were no more tears left.

That was when I realized that I was being held by Scorpius Malfoy. He smelled good and he was warm. I hiccupped, and looked up at him as he was looking down at me. I noticed a wet spot on his chest and I touched it with my finger, lightly.

"Sorry," I mumbled. He didn't say anything. He was looking at me with so many emotions in his gray eyes. He was on the floor with me, on his knees, holding me closely, looking down at me with concern and confusion and something else. I was looking at him, and my arms were trembling from my shoulder blades down to the tips of my fingers—always, the damn fingertips. He was holding me. And he felt so good. And he smelled like heaven. But I hated him. But god he smelled so good.

His hand moved up so that he was cupping my face, looking down at me. My face burned and tingled where he touched me, and I hiccupped again as I felt a tear begin to escape. He reached up and brushed it away with his thumb.

I wanted to kiss him.

He was my professor and I hated him and I longed to punish him for what he'd done to me in the worst way possible, but I wanted to kiss him. No, I needed to kiss him. His lips looked so soft, and he was being so tender, and he smelled so good, and his arms felt amazing around me. My heart was pounding, and the butterflies were flying so frantically in my stomach that I felt mildly nauseous.

My eyes fluttered down to his mouth, and unconsciously, I licked my lips.

And then he leaned in and time stopped.

I couldn't decide—did he smell better or taste better? Because he tasted like the most amazing thing in the world. It was the sweetest kiss. His lips were gentle but slightly urgent, and he used his hand to tip my head back. I sighed into the kiss, and then his lips were nudging mine apart, and I acquiesced, allowing him to go deeper—wanting it more than anything.

I heard a quiet sound from his throat that was unmistakably a growl. And then everything changed.

My hands dove into his hair and I pulled him closer, and his hands moved to my hips and pulled me up, gripping me tightly and making a quiet noise of approval as he did so. I was straddling him, and his tongue was twining with mine, and I couldn't think. It all felt too good. It was sweet. It was intense. It was forbidden. I whimpered.

It was like that sound had woken him up. He pulled away, glanced down at my swollen lips, and then lightly pushed me off.

I moved back and sat against the cabinet. He leaned back against the table behind him, his knees bent in front of him. I noticed that the glass was gone—he must have vanished it.

I wanted him to say something. I needed him to break the silence because my stupid fucking fingertips were tingling, and if I focused on that or on his lips, I would want to kiss him again. And for some reason, I felt like I shouldn't. What the hell just happened?

"I shouldn't have done that," he said after an eternity.

Fuck. I didn't say anything. I looked down at my hands that were resting in my lap.

"But I want to do it again."

I looked up at him. He was staring at me. His eyes kept flickering down to my mouth. My breath caught in my throat.

"No one's stopping you," I managed to whisper. I amazed myself with my ability to speak.

"Hmm," he said. "No, that's true." The faintest smile graced his mouth. "But you should go."

"What?"

"To your concert. It's"—he checked his watch—"8:58. You might be able to see the end of your band."

"Really?" My face lit up.

He nodded.

"Oh my god," I scrambled to my feet as he stood up elegantly. "Thank you," I said. I moved toward him. I wanted to embrace him, but after what had just happened, I didn't know if I should. "Thank you," I said again.

He smiled. "Go," he said quietly. And with one last glance at him, I ran from the room.

"This song is for our bandmate, Rose. She wrote this song this week, but unfortunately, she couldn't be here tonight. So—"

"I'm here!"

I pushed through the crowd and toward the stage. Silence fell over the crowd.

"Rose?" Albus put a hand over his eyes to try and see out into the crowd over the lights. I waved. Albus gaped. "Rose!"

"Hi," I said casually as Nate pulled me on stage. All three of my bandmates looked completely dumbfounded. I grinned and turned around. "Hey everybody!" I waved at the crowd, who all cheered. "Do you all want to hear one more song?" They cheered again, and I felt adrenaline coursing through me and I had a strong urge to giggle. This is fucking crazy. I turned to look at my bandmates who were beaming at me. "Let's give them what they want, guys," I said. "One, two, three, four."

There was a man
Called Merlin
He was known for his magic
But not for his sin
People remember
That he could make some from none
But they forget
All he wanted was to run

Merlin Merlin
Put me up high
Merlin Merlin
Higher than the stars in the sky
Merlin Merlin
Make me wonder
But oh Merlin
Don't drag me under

Merlin could do what most of the world
Could only dream to do
But he was just a man
Who only wanted you
He dreamed you would come back
For so long
But then he found another
Who made him feel so wrong

Merlin Merlin
Put me up high
Merlin Merlin
Higher than the stars in the sky
Merlin Merlin
Make me wonder
But oh Merlin
Don't drag me under

He found that one
Who made him feel so wrong
But his fingertips would tingle
When that one came along.
He found that one
Who made him feel so wrong
But his fingertips would tingle
When that one came along

It was like magic
It was like magic
It was like magic
It was magic.

Next chapter: Malfoy second guesses the kiss.