A/N: Thank y'all so much for all the kind words about this story. Your reviews are what make me want to keep updating like crazy! I just want you to know that I've got a HUGE chunk of this story completed already and it is taking all my will power not to post it all at once-that's how excited I am for y'all to read it. Soon soon soon! So keep reading because I can guarantee you that things are going to get SO freaking good.

Chapter rated T for language and suggestive themes.

Chapter 11: Scorpius

What could I do?

Fuck.

How could I get this damn girl out of my head?

It had been a week. A long, agonizing, painful week since I had last touched Rose. I was losing my damn mind. I absolutely was.

I was sick, wasn't I? I was a fucking sick creep for being attracted to a seventeen-year-old girl.

Well, almost eighteen. And she was of age. She could fucking apparate—that should count for something, right? And what did it matter? I wasn't that much older than her. I'd only left Hogwarts five years ago.

It was just… Dammit. What was it?

Well, I knew what it was. She was bloody gorgeous and her body… Christ. And she was smart. She was probably the smartest student I had, and she hardly even worked for it. Her intelligence and wit came naturally. And that night… I remembered seeing her on that stage—singing with her band, completely in her element—and I knew that I was fucked. If I hadn't been able to get her out of my head before that, there was absolutely no chance I would be able to now.

"I'm here!"

I stood in the back of the Great Hall, hiding in the shadows as the crowd whispered quietly and frantically to themselves as Rose made her way to the stage. I leaned back against the wall, trying not to think about that kiss—while craving her lips on mine—and crossed my arms as she made her way to the stage.

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

"Hey everybody!" she said to the crowd after her bandmate had pulled her to the stage. "Do you all want to hear one more song?" I watched her. Her eyes had never looked brighter and bluer—she had never looked happier than in that moment as she called out, "Let's give them what they want, guys. One, two, three, four!"

The crowd loved her and how could they not? Her hair fell in red waves around her shoulders, and she flipped it back as she got more into the music. I frowned as I listened to her voice… She was absolutely just as good as any professional band I had ever heard, and I couldn't believe it. But I also just couldn't stop looking at her. She was wearing the tight black jeans and the loose fitting blouse she'd been wearing in our detention. I remembered thinking when she'd walked in how incredible she had looked when she sat down at the table and looked at me expectantly.

And then she'd started crying, and Jesus if she hadn't looked even more beautiful with her eyes rimmed red and her cheeks stained with tears. I didn't know why I had held her—it had been instinct. She was distraught, and I'd done that to her.

I'd put her in that pain.

And I had to fix it.

McGonagall had told me about the concert. She explained about Rose's band and how long they'd been planning on this. She explained that she understood that Rose needed to be punished but couldn't he just let it slide this one time and she would make it up?

But I'd been stubborn. She'd embarrassed me and it was all revenge.

I was a twenty-two-year-old man and I was hell bent on getting revenge on a seventeen-year-old student.

So I'd gone to her. I'd scooped her up in my arms and wiped her tears away and I'd made the big mistake of looking at her lips. I remembered my heart speeding up. I hadn't had that strong an urge to kiss someone in so long that the feeling was almost foreign. But she'd looked up at me with those wide, beautiful, blue eyes, and I knew I'd be a fool not to kiss her.

I sighed.

It wasn't until halfway through that I actually started listening to the words of the song that Rose and her band were playing.

"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…"

The dawning I suddenly felt was overwhelming.

It's me.

That song is about me. I was the one who made her feel wrong. I felt that to be true so strongly that my hands started shaking—it was like adrenaline was pumping through me so hard that my body couldn't take it. She'd written a song about me.

She wanted me. I already knew that by the way she'd responded to my kisses and my touches—but it was like hearing this song solidified it in my head. And I understood what she was saying—I understood wanting someone but knowing it was wrong. I knew because I wanted her.

I had to get out of there. It was like the Great Hall had suddenly become too small and I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think. So, I ducked out of the hall and went back to my office as quickly as I could.

I remembered that night. That feeling I'd had when I realized that song was about me. And she'd admitted it. She'd come to my office as I'd sat there trying to distract myself. She'd walked in looking sexy as hell with her face slightly flushed and her hair pulled up messily on top of her head as if she'd been dancing at the concert all night.

I hadn't regretted letting her go to the concert at all in that moment. I'd give anything to see her that flushed and happy all the time.

And I'd asked her. "Who was it about?"

And she'd looked at me, eyes searching and nervous. "You," she'd said.

I shouldn't have kissed her. I shouldn't have kissed her that first time, and I shouldn't have kissed her when she'd come back to my office. And that overwhelming realization that I was kissing my student had hit me like a ton of bricks. I'd fought so hard for this job. McGonagall had been skeptical since I was so young, but I'd eventually convinced her. I loved my job. I loved standing at the front of that classroom and watching the light come on in someone's eyes as something suddenly clicked. I loved laughing when my students acted silly or made jokes. I even loved it when I had to discipline them because I enjoyed teaching them the error in their ways. I was so lucky, and I loved it.

So I made her go. Even though there was nothing more I wanted than for her to stay, I made her go. I had to.

I sighed and swiped a hand down my face, and I looked up at the back of the classroom when I heard the door open. I had to teach the N.E.W.T. students in a bit, and it was always about this time when they started to shuffle in.

When I looked up, my breath caught.

There she was.

She was standing at the back of the classroom, having closed the door behind her. She was leaning against the door, looking at me, head tilted—studying me, really.

"Hi," she said.

"Good morning, Ms. Weasley," I said, forcing the formality in my voice—not wanting to give anything away.

She rolled her eyes, and I had to look down to hide my smile. She'd caught on.

"'Ms. Weasley,'" she repeated as she walked forward and sat on top of the table she had moved to since she'd started seeing that fool Underwood. I tried to hide my scowl at the thought.

I looked up at her and she was looking at me with an arched eyebrow.

I raised my eyebrows in question.

She rolled her eyes again. "Don't act dumb," she said as she crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on her hands. "You can snog me but you can't call me Rose?"

I shook my head and shot a quick glance at the door to the classroom that was still closed.

"Is something bothering you, Ms. Weasley?" I said. I knew that my voice sounded cool, but I felt anything but cool and calm. She was looking at me with those blue eyes and her robes had slipped when she crossed her legs so I could see one milky knee. Even from where I was, I would see the smattering of freckles there. I hid my smile.

She gaped at me, and I smirked as I stepped down from my platform and moved toward her. We were only about a foot from each other, and she was watching my every movement.

"No, nothing," she said.

I leaned against the railing that separated my desk from the rest of the classroom and crossed my arms.

"Seriously?" said Rose, looking at me with an annoyed scowl. I raised my eyebrows again, and she rolled her eyes.

I looked at her. Her chest was heaving slightly, and she was biting the inside of her bottom lip. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder and her head was tilted to the side. She narrowed her eyes as she regarded me. In that moment I thought I had never seen anyone more beautiful. It pained me to look at her—I hated looking at her and feeling like this and wanting her so badly but know I shouldn't—couldn't—have her.

"What?" she said.

I smirked and shrugged.

I moved from my spot against the railing and moved so that I was now leaning against the table right next to her, my arms still crossed. I looked out of the corner of my eye and fought my smile as she edged a bit closer. From where I was, I could smell her. She smelled like lavender and honey and some other scents that I couldn't place. I glanced down at her thigh that had become a bit more exposed when she'd scooted closer. I wanted to reach out—to run a finger along it just to see—to see if I could make her shiver.

I could feel her eyes on me, but I didn't look at her. I couldn't look at her because if I did… Fuck, if I did I knew what would happen.

I felt her edge a bit closer so I could feel the heat radiating off her body. She had uncrossed her legs and she was leaning forward on her hands, trying to get a good view of my face. I stared straight-ahead, acting interested in a scratch on my desk.

My heart was fluttering like a goddamned girl, and I knew that if I looked at her it would only get worse.

"Look at me," she whispered.

I sighed and shook my head. "I can't."

"Why?"

Her voice was so soft. It was like I could hear the vulnerability. Or something.

"You know why."

Silence fell between us and I felt it charge like electricity. She was looking at me and I could smell her, and she was my student, but god what was I going to do, and then I did it. I turned my head.

When I turned my head to slowly look at her, I withheld a gasp. She was even closer than I had thought, her face inches from mine. Her blue eyes were boring into mine, and I couldn't help it when I glanced down at her lips. She moved forward and I leaned to the side.

"You have a boyfriend," I said. It was really all I could think to say.

"Who cares?" she breathed. She tried to lean forward again but again, I leaned away.

"You're my student."

She rolled her eyes—again, seriously, with the damn eye rolls—and tried—again—to lean in. She made a frustrated noise that sounded like a growl when I leaned away.

Then, she reached forward and grabbed the front of my robes and pulled me toward her, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Kiss me," she said in a gravelly voice.

My heart was pounding. I looked down at her lips. I wanted to. I had to. They were there, and I could smell her. And—

Just then, I heard the sound of voices right outside the classroom. I gave her a small smile, wrapped my hand around her wrist to pull her hand off my collar before I turned and walked back up to my desk. As soon as I took a step away from her, the door to the classroom opened and several students came piling in.

I turned around when I got up onto the platform and saw that she had hopped off of the desk and was walking to her seat. When she sat down, she looked up at me. Her chest and neck were red. I smirked, and she scowled at me. It was adorable.

I was sitting at my desk with my head in my hands later that night. What a goddamn mess I had gotten myself into. Weasley. Jesus.

But it was all my own goddamn fault.

If I hadn't been such a stubborn asshole and given that girl detention when I didn't even know for sure that she had been at fault, I would have never felt the need to comfort her when she'd burst into tears on the floor of my classroom.

But Christ, she'd just looked so beautiful and helpless hunched on the ground, tears streaming down as she reached her breaking point. I knew it had been my fault. Who would I be if I didn't at least try to make up for the mistake I'd made… But then… God it had just gone too far…

If we'd never had that first kiss, I wouldn't be going through this right now. I would never know what it was like to kiss her—what it was like to have her fingers in my hair, her legs around my waist—and I wouldn't feel the longing I felt for her now.

But who was I kidding? I'd been longing for her since I first saw her in the Great Hall the morning that classes began. It was certainly true that the longing had skyrocketed since our kiss, but in all honesty, I would have been in this situation either way—wanting something, someone, I couldn't have.

Because I couldn't have her. No matter how much I tried to rationalize it in my head—she wanted me too, it was only a five-year difference, she was of age—I couldn't have this girl. I couldn't think about her, I couldn't kiss her, I couldn't… No I couldn't even think about what I couldn't do with her because that was a dangerous path. I'd already let my imagination wander too far, and I had to put a stop to it.

With a heavy exhale, I stood up from my desk, pushing my chair back so hard that it teetered a bit before falling back in place, and I strode toward the front door of the classroom. I had to walk this off—I had to think.

I had to fly.

As I walked out of the classroom, I pulled my cloak off and tossed it to the side before pushing through the classroom door and walking into the dark castle. It was twilight outside—the late evenings of summer continuing in the mid weeks of September—but in the dungeons, you would never know it. It was as dark down there as if it were in the middle of the night.

I walked quickly, trying to suppress my grin as I thought about flying. I'd seen a lot growing up with magical parents and going to Hogwarts for seven years. I'd been a potions master's apprentice in Germany before I'd come back to teach at Hogwarts—she had mixed potions the likes of which I had never, ever seen. I'd watched a chair be turned into a dog and I'd seen my mother clean an entire kitchen with a flick of her wand. Once when I was seventeen, I had magically shattered all of the glass in my room in a fit of rage when I found out I hadn't made the Chudley Cannons after making it through all the tryout rounds. I'd seen a lot in my years as a wizard, but there was still nothing—nothing—like flying.

I felt like I had bugs crawling on me—my skin was itching with excitement, and as soon as I ascended the stairs from the dungeons, I couldn't take it anymore—I broke into a run. I ran through the castle, grinning like an idiot, hardly able to stop myself from screaming with glee as I ran through the entrance hall, so completely overwhelmed with the excitement at the idea that soon I would be in the air, and I would be feeling that feeling that made me feel like nothing else.

My white button up was fluttering in the wind as I ran out onto the grounds, and my black slacks were swishing back and forth. If anyone were to see me in this moment, they would be completely and utterly confused, but I didn't care. I had a one-track mind. I just wanted to get in the air.

When I finally made it to the pitch, I ran into the locker rooms to Hooch's office where she let me store my broomstick and other Quidditch gear. I didn't even bother to change into the clothes I kept stored in a bag in a small locker in the corner of Hooch's office. I didn't have time. I had to fly. I had to.

As I gripped my broom and rushed from the office, I had to suppress a giggle that was bubbling in my throat because of my eagerness and giddiness to be in the air. Get a hold of yourself, Malfoy. The anticipation had even allowed me temporarily to forget about Rose—that was how intense just the thought of flying was. Even the thought of flying had me so distracted that I was able to forget about the person who had constantly been on my mind for weeks.

Right as I was about to exit the locker room, I hiked my leg over my broom, and as soon as I was out the door, I kicked off and I was flying.

I was soaring.

In the air it was just me and my broom. I dove around—the wind whipping my hair—and my mind was blank. At one point, I let go of the handle of my broom and raised my hands in the air as I flew downward toward the pitch after soaring so high I could hardly make out the pitch. I felt weightless—powerful—as I released the broom and let it guide me. It was terrifying and exhilarating. It was incredible.

Stars were shining brightly in the sky when I finally landed on the pitch, a bit sweaty, and my hair sticking up in different directions. I grinned and ran a hand through my hair before heading back to the locker room to put my broom up. It was remarkable how much better I felt after all of that. I thought about showering in the locker room, knowing that no students would be down here this late, but after what had happened with Rose, I was still paranoid about showering down here. But really what I wouldn't give for her to come down here… while I was sweaty and practically high from my flying experience. I would probably grab onto her and never let her go.

No. Enough. I decided I would just go back to my quarters and shower when I got back—another chance to clear my head.

My trip back to the dungeons was much slower than my trip down to the pitch. I wasn't in a big rush to get back because I knew that down there meant more time alone with my thoughts.

I should write to my parents, I thought as I walked through the entrance hall and descended the stairs. I was distracted from this thought, however, when I got down into the corridor that led to my quarters and I heard some murmuring and rustling from an empty classroom that hadn't been used since before I had been at Hogwarts.

I heard a giggle. "Stop…"

I heard a bit more hushed sounds, but I was in such a good mood from my fly that I decided I would leave these kids alone and just go back to my quarters without punishing them.

That was until I noticed the tone of the sounds changing.

"Stop… Seriously…"

I frowned and walked up closer to the door so I could hear it a bit more clearly.

"Don't…"

The rustling got a bit louder, and if I wasn't mistaken, it sounded like whoever was muttering protests was trying to stop whatever was going on. I was conflicted about barging in and interrupting until I heard one more thing…

"Hadley, honestly…"

I clenched my jaw, and burst through the door without thinking about anything else.

The sight before me had my heart pounding hard in my chest. Rose was on her back on a desk, her skirt pushed above her waist, and Underwood was standing in between her legs, his shirt hanging open, one hand on one of Rose's hands—apparently restraining it—and the other in his pants.

When he heard the door open, Underwood jerked his head back, and when he saw me, he pushed away from Rose, and she looked up at me—her eyes wide and frightened. I wasn't sure if she was frightened that she'd been caught or about the situation she'd just been in.

"What's going on here?" I demanded. I felt the anger coursing through my blood, threatening to explode. I tried not to look at Rose because I knew if I saw her on that desk looking scared because of what this kid had done to her, I would lose ability for rational thought. I needed rational thought right now—I always did when she was involved.

"Uh, nothing…" Underwood tried, buttoning up his pants and taking another step away from Rose.

"It looked like you were forcing yourself on this girl, Underwood," I said through clenched teeth. When I saw Rose tense up out of the corner of my eye, I knew that was exactly what had been going on.

"It wasn't—"

I took a few steps toward him, and I knew in that moment that I was going to lose my job at Hogwarts because I was going to take a swing at my student. I knew that because I felt my hand clenching and in my mind's eye I could see Hadley going down, clutching his nose. Right when I was about to do what I was seeing myself doing, I felt a small hand on my elbow.

I whipped around and saw that Rose had gotten off the desk and was standing next to me, looking smaller and younger than she ever had. Her eyes were wide and scared, and she was pleading—although I wasn't sure what she was pleading for. I looked down at her and clenched my jaw, and I saw that her eyes were watery. I wanted to pull her into my arms more than anything. I wanted to kiss that fear away. Instead, I just sighed.

"Get the hell out of here, Underwood," I said, still looking at Rose.

"Wha—I—"

"IF YOU DON'T WANT DETENTION FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR, GET OUT OF HERE," I roared. Rose flinched, and with a quick glance at her, Underwood rushed from the room.

When he was out of the room, I looked down at Rose, my heart clenching at the look of fear on her innocent face. She seemed to relax now that he was out of the room, and I just watched her, frowning. What the hell was she doing? I wanted to shake her, I wanted to scream at her, but all I did was take in every inch of her face. Her chest was heaving and it was splotched with red as she continued to look up at me.

"I—"

"Don't," I said as I bent down and heaved her up into my arms. She was practically weightless. I don't know why I did it—why I lifted her—I just knew I had to get her out of that room.

As I turned to leave the room, cradling her in my arms, she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face into its crook. I could feel her trembling as I used wandless magic to open the door to the classroom and slam it behind us as I walked down the hall toward my quarters.

We were there quicker than I expected—it was a room hidden in the wall around the corner from the potions classroom. There was also a door that led from my office to my quarters. I was able to get in by pressing my hand to the wall—the magic of the wall recognizing my touch and opening for me.

The door closed behind us as soon as I carried Rose into the room. I walked to my bed and bent down so I could put her in bed, but she wouldn't release me. Smiling slightly through my anger at Underwood, I sat on the bed with Rose still in my arms, and that was when the tears finally came. She dissolved, crying in my arms and holding me tighter. I felt my heart falter as I pulled her closer. I whispered words of comfort into her ear, which only seemed to make her sob harder, so after trying that, I settled on running my hand down her long red hair as she continued to shake and cry.

After a while, her tears subsided, to be replaced by the occasional sob or sharp intake of breath or hiccup. She still clutched me, and that was fine with me—I wouldn't have let her go even if she wanted it.

My throat burned with my anger at Underwood—it rose up in my throat like bile—my arms ached from holding Rose so tightly, my jaw hurt from clenching it and unclenching it so much, and my heart was still pounding wildly, replaced only by the occasional flutter when Rose would move in a certain way or squeeze me or touch me somehow.

Soon, I noticed that her sounds had changed, and I looked down at her and smiled slightly when I saw that she had fallen asleep. I moved slowly. At first, she clutched me a bit tighter in her sleep, but I was able to shift her fairly easily and get her onto my bed, covered, and rested on my pillow. I smiled when I pulled the cover up, and I considered what I would do about Underwood—what I would do about this situation that we had all found ourselves in.

"Goddammit," I muttered to myself as a put a hand on my hip and ran the other down my face, looking at Rose. She looked beautiful—her face a bit puffy and red, but otherwise completely at peace. I reached down, without thinking, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. In her sleep, she sighed and leaned into my touch. My chest clenched.

Yes, this girl was under my skin, and I was in trouble.

Next chapter:

"You should go."

"What? Why?"

He glanced down at my mouth, and my heart fluttered again. "Because I want to kiss you, and if you don't leave then I will."