The floor creaks underneath his bare feet. His wand, 10 inches of pure hawthorn, bounces in his hand, with every deliberate step. A dim fire is nestled in the corner, lighting the common room in an eerie haze. It's empty.
"Hello…?" he calls out quietly, his voice almost lost in the beckoning silence.
"Oh, Scorpius, Scorpius.. I thought you would come tonight."
The voice is low and purring, seductive and at the same time, the most frightening thing he's heard in his life. Scorpius whirls around, his muscles tense, his fingers clenched tight around his wand. The voice laughs, almost scornfully.
"Don't think you can fight me," it hisses. "Unless you want to see your Rose again, of course. Bigger and better have tried – and failed."
"Where are you?!" Scorpius shouts, trembling. Rose. "WHERE ARE YOU?!" he screams, brokenly, his voice cracking. "What did you do with Rose?! Where is she? WHERE IS SHE?!" But the voice never responds. Silence floods the room again, tactile and bittersweet. And as Scorpius falls to his knees, the voice speaks again, so softly he isn't sure if he's hearing it or not.
"I told you. Once you're in this far, it's all or nothing. You chose him over me. One more chance, Rosie…"
Words that dance on the tip of his tongue, words that are not meant for him. Suddenly, the portrait hole opens, light flitting through the opening. Professor Parvati strides in, her face pinched.
"Malfoy, what in the world is .."
But the words are cut off. Because lying directly in the light is Rose Weasley's crumpled body, facedown on the carpet, unmoving.
Scorpius hears a scream, piercing the tension, vulnerable.
And it's only until he's led off into Professor McGonagall's study, his heart melted to rock, that he realizes that the scream belonged to him.