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Chapter rated T for language and themes.

Chapter 21: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

The next morning, I woke up and I thought I was going to be sick.

I was sick for many reasons. My stomach was still in knots about everything that had happened with Malfoy, I had come to a resolution the night before that terrified me, and today I had potions.

I was like a zombie when I went to get ready. Unable to sleep, I'd woken up earlier than the other girls, and I was getting ready quickly so that I could get out before I had to talk. Yes, I had opened that new door with Meg, but talking was still such an exhausting thing to do when I was afraid I might burst into tears if they asked me any questions at all.

I dressed quickly, throwing my clothes on and shoving my robe into my school bag before heading out the door and down to the Great Hall. On my way down, I realized I had never been more hyper alert than I was in that moment. My eyes darted everywhere, looking for any movement that could be Malfoy because I feared running into him. I feared what I might do if I saw him alone—fall at his feet, beg, grovel, hold onto him and never let him go—and I wanted to be on my guard in case he snuck up on me.

Luckily, though, I made it to the hall without incident, and I was more grateful than I'd ever been to see Albus sitting with Fergus Bossenen at the Gryffindor table. At first, I contemplated not joining them because I didn't want to interrupt the relationship that I so desperately wanted Al to have, but then Fergus looked up and waved me over with a grin, so I smiled and headed over to them.

"Hey," I said to Al, kissing him on the cheek as I sat down next to him. My new affection seemed to catch him off guard, but I couldn't help it after the love and care that Albus had shown me the other day—I wanted to show it right back. "Hey, Fergie," I said with a smile at him.

"Rose, you look great today," Fergie said. "I love seeing you without any make up or anything. You've got great skin."

I smiled and thanked him. "Albus must have told you I was feeling down, right?"

Fergie smirked and Al looked steadily at his plate.

"Well, I appreciate the compliments either way."

Fergie smiled, and I was reminded of how handsome he was. "So, what's got you so down?"

I shrugged. "Boy troubles."

Fergie nodded. "I know the feeling," he said with an arched eyebrow at Albus. Albus looked up at him and I saw the tips of his ears go pink.

"Don't tell me this one is still giving you trouble," I said to Fergie, who shrugged with a smile.

"Wouldn't want to kiss and tell," Fergie said, making my eyes widen at the implication as I looked at Albus.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Albus said, stabbing at the food on the plate in front of him.

Both Fergie and I laughed, and it felt good. I realized that I hadn't felt happy or light like this since Sunday night—since before I left to study and Scorpius and I had been in his bed, whispering and laughing together—and warmth spread over me because it felt good and right. I shouldn't be so miserable about him.

"So, what are you guys doing on your date?" I asked Fergie. I wasn't looking at Albus, but I knew if he wasn't outwardly rolling his eyes, he definitely was on the inside. He hated dates—he hated going on them, he hated talking about them, he hated the entire ordeal—except the kiss at the end. He always told me that the only reason he kept going on dates was because he couldn't get enough of that feeling of anticipation right before that kiss at the end of a good date.

"I don't know," Fergie said. "Al won't let me plan anything cool. He just wants to hang out in Hogsmeade."

"I just want to make out in my dorm, so you should be happy I'm being romantic enough to go to Hogsmeade," Albus said poutily. I elbowed him, but Fergie just laughed, and when I looked up at him, the look he was giving Albus was so reverent and affectionate that it made my heart ache. It was so obvious that Fergie was madly in love with Albus, and I wanted to kill Al for not seeing it and appreciating it.

"You're such an arse," I said to Albus.

"What?" he said gaping like he didn't get what the big deal was.

"I don't mind," Fergie said, still watching Albus. "That's how I like my boys—all cynical and sullen."

And then Albus was looking up at Fergie, giving him almost the same look that Fergie was giving him. They smiled at each other—beautiful, genuine smiles full of unspoken words and passion—and I became so insanely jealous that I wanted to kick both of them. But I was just so happy that Al was apparently starting to feel for Fergie what Fergie had felt for him for years.

Then I felt like I was intruding on a private moment as they looked at each other and kept grinning like idiots, so I just ducked my head and started eating. I was ravenous. I hadn't had a good meal since probably Friday morning—I'd spent so much time with Scorpius, and then I had spent so much time mourning him that I'd barely eaten.

"Rose, I need you to weigh in on something," Fergie said.

"Yeah?" I said with my mouth full.

"You're disgusting," Albus said handing me a napkin. I just smiled and took it, taking a big swallow and looking at Fergie who seemed to enjoy my show.

"Al hasn't told Scamander about us yet."

I gave Albus a sharp look before taking a swig of pumpkin juice and looking back at Fergie.

"Albus Potter is a known coward," I said. "That's why he's a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor."

Fergie threw his head back and roared with laughter while Albus shoved my shoulder. "I'm not a coward!" he said. "I just like self-preservation." He folded his arms over his chest.

"Another word for cowardice," I shot back.

Albus shot me an annoyed look. "I just don't see what there is to tell."

Fergie looked a bit stung by that, so—feeling like I had to be in his corner since I couldn't stand Al and Ly together—I rushed to his defense.

"What do you mean?" I snapped. "He's your friend, and he's your ex, and he's in our band."

"So?" Albus huffed.

I gaped. "So, you're just going to complicate things if you don't tell him about your feelings for Fergie."

"Oh my god—"

"He's just going to keep thinking that you and him have a chance when you don't," I finished with a stern look.

"He knows!" Albus said angrily. "He doesn't need to know about my love life."

"He does if he keeps thinking he's going to be apart of it."

"Rose," Fergie interrupted with a sad and resigned look on his face. "Al's saying he doesn't have feelings for me that are important enough to share," Fergie said quietly.

"Fergie, that's not true," Albus said with a look of desperation. He tried to reach out and grab the hand that Fergie had on the table, but Fergie slid it away and put it in his lap. "That's not true," Albus said again. "You know how I feel about you."

"Then prove it," I said, not caring that I was on the border of intruding on something private. "I'll tell Ly if you don't."

Albus sighed. "I'll tell him," he said. I gave him a look that made Albus laugh. "I will!" Then he looked at Fergie. "Hey," he said, making Fergie look up at him. Then they shared a look that I didn't understand, but it seemed to make Fergie feel better because a moment later he was putting his hand on the table for Albus to take it. The longing and jealousy I'd felt earlier came back with a vengeance.

I wanted Scorpius. I wanted him to want me like Fergie so clearly and desperately wanted Albus. I wanted him to love me. And this afternoon, I would take steps to try and make that happen.

I didn't see Scorpius at breakfast. He had either come early, or he had just gone to the kitchens to grab something and then took it back to his office. Obviously he didn't want to see me. I didn't blame him.

But I desperately wanted to see him. I just wanted him to look at me—to see me and know that I wasn't as bad as he thought I was, to know I was still the Rose he'd spent the weekend with. I wanted him to see that I was good and not a spiteful bitch.

Al and I said goodbye to Fergie, who wasn't taking N.E.W.T. potions, and I was so happy—and of course, jealous—when I saw Al kiss Fergie on the cheek before we parted with him. When we turned away, I glanced back at Fergie briefly and I saw him touching his cheek where Al had kissed him.

"Why are you grinning like that?" Al asked me as we started walking to Potions.

"Nothing," I said. "Just… Fergie is in love with you."

He sighed. "I know."

I frowned. "You don't like it, though."

"I'm trying, Rose," he said desperately. "I really am. He just wants so much, so fast—"

"He can't help it."

"I know," Al said quickly. "I want to give him what he wants—he's a great guy—I just… Please let me be honest with you without you getting mad at me."

"You still have feelings for Ly, I know," I said with a sigh.

"I don't even know why," he responded angrily, running a hand through is already unruly hair. "He's an arse, and all he does is complain, and he's always trying to change me when Fergie…"

"He loves you exactly as you are."

Albus let out a slow, full exhale, and I reach up and put my arm around him. He was much taller than me so it was difficult, but I managed by letting my arm hang off the back of his shoulder while I squeeze his shoulder.

"Fergie is perfect," Albus said, looking down at me.

"Yeah," I said, nodding in agreement.

"But he doesn't… he doesn't… light me on fire the way Lysander does," Albus whispered.

I sucked in a breath, knowing exactly the feeling that Albus was talking about. I felt it every time I was even within eyeshot of Scorpius.

"He might, Al," I said with a reassuring squeeze. "Let him show you."

Al sighed and rolled his head on his neck. We walked in silence for a bit, and then he looked over at me. "All right, all right," he said, shrugging my hand off his shoulder. "Enough touchy stuff. What's your deal? Kissing me on the cheek, putting your arm around me."

I laughed and shrugged. "I just love ya, that's all."

He narrowed his eyes at me but didn't say anything, making me laugh again. He smiled.

"I'm glad you're smiling again," he said.

"Yeah, well, I've got a plan," I said.

"I don't think—"

"Not that kind of plan," I said, cutting him off. "None of those anymore."

"Really?" Albus looked bewildered.

I nodded. "Really really. I've got something else. I'll tell you after."

"After class?"

"After I do it."

We made it to the Potions classroom, and Albus grabbed my elbow to stop me before we went in. "You gonna be okay?"

My hands were clammy and I felt like I was going to throw up, and my heart was pounding so fiercely I thought all of Hogwarts could hear it, but I just said, "Yeah. Think so."

"I'm here for you, Cheeks."

I raised my eyebrows at him. 'Cheeks' was a nickname my dad had given me when I was little because my cheeks had been so big that he would poke at them and laugh when I would swat his hands away. It had caught on to other people in my family, but I hadn't heard anyone but dad use it in years.

"You better be careful before I get all lovey dovey again," I said.

"Gross," he said.

"Albus!" I said, puckering my lips and making kissing noises. I moved toward him and he laughed and yelped and pushed into the classroom to get away from me. "You don't like my kisses, Albus?" I said in a high-pitched voice before I chased after him with more kissy noises.

"Stop!" Al said, laughing as he ran to his seat and around the desk to block me from him.

"But I wuv you!" I said from the other side of the desk, trying to lean over it and grab him.

"Rose—!"

Al was cut off by the color draining from my face as Scorpius stood up from where he had been crouching behind his desk, apparently gathering some things that he had dropped. He set some papers on his desk, and looked up at us.

"Mr. Potter," he said coldly. "Ms. Weasley."

He hated me. It hit me like a ton of bricks. The look he gave me when he said my name told me all I needed to know. Scorpius hated me. At first I thought it was all just a defense mechanism, but now I saw. I sat down on the stool behind my desk, and Albus came rushing over next to me. I looked down and grasped my knees, trying to overcome the wave of nausea that hit me.

"You okay?" Al whispered, gripping my arm. I nodded. "You look like you're gonna be sick." I shook my head. "Rose…"

"Fine," I said hoarsely.

A few more people came in the classroom after that, and I took a few deep breaths. I watched as Albus transfigured a piece of parchment into a small paper cup and whispered "Aguamenti," before scooting the cup over to me. "Drink," he said. "You look like shit."

I smiled and sipped the water. Then I glanced up and I saw that Scorpius was watching me. My stomach churned again, and I put the cup down and pushed it away from me. I couldn't place his look, but I held his gaze, unable and unwilling to look away. Finally, he was the one who tore his eyes from me, and I felt mildly triumphant.

Let him see, I thought. Let him see how miserable he's making me.

Class went by in a blur. I noticed that Scorpius resolutely kept his eyes off me the entire time he was lecturing, but when we broke off to work on our potions, I knew—I could feel—that he was watching me. My movements were slow and measured because my hands were shaking so badly that I knew if I moved too fast I would ruin my potion and possibly shatter glass phials—the phials that I had probably filled weeks earlier in one of the stupid detentions that had started this all.

Albus would periodically ask me if I was okay, and every time I reassured him I was, the more skeptical I could feel him becoming about the truth in that statement.

When class was over, I told Albus to go on without me, and he did without questioning it. As soon as everyone was gone, I walked up to Scorpius's desk, and he looked up at me, startled when he realized I was the only person left in the room.

"Ms. Weasley—"

"Stop it," I snapped. "Stop with the fucking 'Ms. Weasley.'" Then I softened a bit. "I know you hate me, and I don't blame you, but I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I—"

He held up a hand. "I don't need to hear it," he said coldly.

"Scorpius—"

He looked pained when I said his name, but the look quickly passed. "I'm busy, Ms. Weasley."

"You seriously won't hear me out at all?"

He looked at me hard for a moment, and my chest clenched painfully. Then he sighed before gathering up his things and turning. "I don't think there's anything left to say," he said quietly before he walked into his office and slammed the door.

I heard the lock click, and tears stung my eyes before I blinked quickly to make them go away, and I decided that I would have to go with Plan B. There was only one way I could make this better—there was only one way that he could see how truly sorry I was and how desperately I wanted him to forgive me. So with that in mind, I grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

"What can I do for you, Weasley?" McGonagall said before walking around her desk and slowly taking a seat in her high-backed chair. Sometimes when McGonagall commanded the attention of the entire school I forgot how old she was—that she had been here long before even Ron and Hermione were at Hogwarts—but now, seeing her slowly sit as her old bones resisted, just for a moment, I could see that she was getting on in age.

Just like the few other times that I had been in the Headmistress's office, I couldn't help but glance around in wonder at the huge, circular room around me. When I glanced out the high windows, I could see the Quidditch pitch below, which made me wonder how many times McGonagall had looked down among the Gryffindors—the house that she used to be the head of—and watched us, scrutinizing us, as we practiced.

There were various knickknacks around the room, but the room was fairly bare—books lined shelves, and plaques and awards were around the room to show Professor McGonagall's various achievements. She also had a bowl of licorice snaps in the middle of the room that she told me once she had never eaten. They were simply a tribute to the man who had occupied the office two terms before her.

Which reminded me of by far my favorite part of the office—the portraits of all of the headmasters and mistresses that had ever served at Hogwarts. I glanced at them, most of them eying me suspiciously, other preoccupied with themselves—I thought I saw two playing a game of chess, each with a board in their own portraits, and moving the other players pieces to correspond with the moves they made in the other portrait.

When I landed on the most recent headmasters, I got the familiar chill I always got when I remembered all the stories Ron and Hermione had told me and Hugo about the both of them—my cousin's namesakes. Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, both of whom were watching me very closely.

"Professor, I—"

"Looks like Granger," I heard someone say. I looked up and saw Snape staring at me with narrowed eyes. "Prettier, though," he said.

"Severus," Dumbledore admonished while McGonagall shook her head.

"Of course Weasley's red hair," Snape remarked.

"Hmm," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, studying me and making me flush with embarrassment under his gaze. "A bit darker than the other Weasleys, though."

"When you two are finished commenting on my student's appearance, we have things to discuss," McGonagall snapped at the two of them. From where I was standing, I saw Dumbledore's cheeks pink underneath his glasses while Snape scowled. I smiled.

"Please sit, Weasley," McGonagall said when she turned back to me, and my smile faded.

"I'd prefer to stand if you don't mind, Professor."

She gave me a stern look and then shrugged. "As you wish," she said. "Now, what is it?"

Always straight to the point with her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something… Something I did."

She frowned. "Yes?"

"I—erm—" My heart was pounding and I felt light-headed. I thought I should have taken McGonagall up on her offer for a seat.

"Spit it out, Weasley."

"I wrote a letter to you about Malfoy."

Her eyes widened.

"What?"

"A letter… About Malfoy… And a—erm—a student…" I exhaled quickly. "I wrote it."

"You and Malfoy—"

"No!" I said quickly even though it was true that yes… Me and Malfoy… "I just… I wanted to get back at him."

"Get back at him," she repeated.

"I wanted to get back at him for making me miss that concert even though I didn't put that telescope in his desk and he gave me that detention anyway and I had to miss my band's one shot and he didn't care and so I wanted to do something because he just, you know, he deserved it, and I was upset and I regret it because it was stupid but I just—"

"Slow down, Weasley, slow down," McGonagall said, holding up a hand. "So that letter… Nothing in it was true."

I bowed my head and shook it, feeling ashamed.

"And you thought missing that concert and Malfoy potentially losing his position at this school were equal?"

I said, "Yes," before I could stop myself. Then I added quickly, "But he won't lose his job will he?"

McGonagall sighed. "No, Weasley, he won't."

I took a deep breath. "I understand if you need to expel me, but please let me be the one to tell my parents. It's going to crush them, and I just think it would be better coming from me because they respect you so much and they won't want to hear that I got expelled from you because they'll just be so embarrassed, and I already know I'm a disappointment, and—"

"Weasley, stop," McGonagall said. I looked up at her and she looked bemused. I almost laughed—I'd never seen McGonagall look so befuddled. "No one's getting expelled."

"I'm not?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "No, but you will serve detention with me every night for two weeks—"

"Really?"

"Don't look so relieved," McGonagall said. "You will also be apologizing to Professor Malfoy in person—"

"No, please—"

"It's not up for discussion," she said sharply. "I am being extremely lenient with you given the circumstances," she said. "If you hadn't come forward before I found out who sent it, I assure you the punishment would be much more severe, but…" she sighed. "I admire your courage in telling me the truth."

My courage, I thought disbelievingly. Not courage. Desperation. Need—strong unfailing need—for Malfoy.

"That being said," McGonagall said. "Ms. Weasley, I see what goes on in my castle. I know that you've been going through a hard time this last year or so." I tensed. "That is also another reason why I'm being so lenient, but listen closely, Weasley." She said, her voice getting dangerously low. "If you ever pull a stunt like this again, the punishment won't be so light. I've put up with your behavior and I am at my wit's end, do you understand?"

I nodded.

She nodded, too. "Now," she said, her voice returning to normal. "I want you to apologize to Malfoy—no arguments," she snapped when she saw me about to protest. He wouldn't speak to me. And I couldn't very well tell her that I'd already tried to apologize more than once. How was I supposed to apologize when he wouldn't even give me one chance to speak? "And if he chooses to give you additional punishment, you will serve that as well, do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, my voice small.

"Okay," she said. Then she waved me off. "You may go."

Without another word—afraid that she might up the punishment if she thought about it a second longer—I rushed from her office. On my way out, I swore I heard someone say, "Typical Weasley."

Next chapter:

Rose gets a distraction from her troubles with Scorpius, but it's not exactly the kind of distraction she wants.