News of the breakup travelled through the sandstone corridors as a trickle and then as a flood. By the next day, Naya and another dark haired Ravenclaw were inseparable which only aided and abetted to the rumours. Scorpius was well aware of this – he overheard the "Oh Merlin, did you hear about-" at breakfast, the "Shit, Diggle, guess what I-" on the way to astronomy, the "I'm going to have to cheat if I'm going to get through this." "Oh, speaking of!" on the way out of astronomy. It was a story that created ripples in all directions. In the snippets that he'd caught, ears instinctively pricking when he heard his name, Scorpius realised that there were different reactions. The solicitous whispers seemed to be split between anger on his behalf and those fucking awful unsurprised nods. Those hurt. Those really hurt. How, he wondered every time, how had he been so blinkered?
In the days preceding the match, Scorp surrounded himself with his friends. They got it. They understood. Albus had winced when Scorpius had told him – his voice dispassionate as if it had happened to somebody else. But that had been the end of it. By the next morning, Scorpius was chasing the Fucking Watch around under the furniture and Albus was whinging. The first time that Scorpius had been involved in a breakup, he'd been fourteen and Albus had waved a packet of playing cards at him and told him to stop being so overdramatic. This time, Albus waved a packet of playing cards at him and told him to stop being so overdramatic. There's was a friendship that was tried and true.
Rose, Scorpius was coming to realise, was very much like a duck. On the surface she was calm and collected, with legs kicking up a maelstrom underneath. Days later, when Scorpius asked if she knew just who was responsible for Naya being inexplicably bald for a day, or just why the dark haired girl was speaking only in rhyme, Rose denied everything; The picture of innocence. But there was no one else in the school quite as talented or, possibly, as motivated.
Match day drew ever nearer; Tensions mounted, bets were discreetly placed – although every teacher knew about the betting pool. Rumour had it that several were invested, and Scorp knew for a fact that Hugo Weasley had placed two galleons against Gryffindor for his father. Despite Scorpius's best efforts, the match had become personal. Perhaps the breakup of one of Gryffindor's most notorious students and the princess of Ravenclaw mere days before the match was bad for moral, but it was great for business. Hanks and Scorp still ran together every morning after a tense few seconds.
"I've got to say it," Hanks had said eventually, breaking a pensive silence. "I heard what happened. Think it's a load of shite, personally."
"Than-"
"I'm not done." Hanks stopped in the path and Scorp did, too. The stockier boy stared hard at the Gryffindor, before reaching out and clapping a hand to the taller lad's shoulder. "I'm playing this match on Sunday, and I'm playing to win." He smiled slowly, wryly, and Scorp wondered where this was going. "But I'm a betting man, Malfoy. I've got money on you. You and your lunatic captain. I'm either winning or losing on Sunday, don't really care. I'm just glad we're mates."
And Scorpius was reminded of why he liked the Ravenclaw so much. "Fucking sentimentalist." He mumbled at his feet, before looking up and catching Hanks's eye. "Me too, Hanks. Me too."
Hanks had nodded once, as if that settled something, and had taken off again. Scorp has watched his back for a moment, bemused and – as he'd later recount to Weasley – all warm and fuzzy inside.
Friday night saw the Gryffindor players huddled around Rose's layout of the match. She wore her rich, scarlet hair pulled back in a ponytail but strands still escaped to whip at the holographic players on the cardboard pitch. The team's red cloaks were flapping in time with a brisk breeze which had been building all day, and Finnegan was taking issue with it.
"Really?! Cap, be reasonable, would ya?! There's no way the weather conditions on Sunday are gonna let us fly like that."
Rose was unimpressed, one eyebrow arched. "Oh, come on. What's the worst that could happen, Ronan? So we muck up the turns – that's fine-"
"Death. Death could happen."
Rose allowed for this with a nod that said that perhaps, but that it was a perfectly reasonable sacrifice to make.
"Let's keep it down, chaps." Amy Fletcher said warningly, eyeballing the side of the pitch. From the stands, several faces peered down at them. By now it was common practice to spy on the other team's training sessions. Students from both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been skiving lessons to scout out the others (the sheer lack of attendance in class had been drawing attention from teachers and students alike, with one handing out detentions like they were hot and the other treating the skivers with admiration or scorn) but it was true that the Ravenclaws suffered significantly more guilt over this. Ravenclaw had trained earlier that morning, and Hanks had cheerfully pulled a finger across his exposed throat when he noticed Scorpius waving at him gleefully from his sentry point in the stands.
"We either play it safe," Rose was arguing heatedly, colour rising in her cheeks, "and we do exactly what we've always done and they'll expect it straight away. Or we just try the Holyhead formation! And if we die - which we won't - then we went down fighting, right?"
"Or," Scorpius contributed over Ronan's retorts, when it looked as though the slight girl might well deck the Irishman, "We play in the nude. They'll never see that coming."
Scorpius was ignored.
Ronan opened his mouth again, oozing righteousness, when Fletcher slapped a hand over his mouth.
"I'm with Malfoy."
Scorpius gaped. "You are?"
"Well obviously, I think your idea is idiotic, but it could be a laugh for our last training session before the match."
"I love you, Fletch, but are you out of your-" Rose stopped in her tracks. "You know what, that could be a good idea."
Scorpius was horrified.
"Let's do it."
From the desk of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, Order of Merlin (First Class)
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasley-Granger,
I write to inform you of an incidence that occurred earlier this evening (Friday the 10th of March) in which your daughter, Rose-
Dear Mr and Mrs Malfoy,
I write to inform you of an incidence that occurred earlier this evening-
Dear Mrs Fletcher,
I write to inform you of an incidence that-
Dear Mr and Mrs Finnegan,
I write to inform you-
Dear Albus,
How I wish you had seen what the Gryffindor team decided to do just over an hour ago. You, I am sure, would have found the entire situation quite entertaining. At just past a quarter to nine, young Dawkins from Ravenclaw (You would remember Dawkins the elder – dreadful child. Just dreadful) came rushing into me in the corridor in the most ungainly of manners. The child was yelling about the Gryffindor team flying around, naked as babies.
Well, they weren't quite. They of course wore eye protection which was most sensible, and modesty was preserved. Ronald Weasley's child was at the heart of it, Albus. I do not know what to do with her…
"And just who," A voice had boomed from the darkness gathering at the edge of the pitch. It was rich and intimidating both in it's impatience and Scottish-ness. "Is behind all of this?"
Minerva McGonagall had seen a lot of things in her life. She had, after all, lived a long one. But the sight of the red and gold capes of Gryffindor house, of her house, keeping the chill off of some of her brightest students' rumps, clad only in their underwear, was almost too much.
"Out of the air!" She yelled, voice carrying so far that the centaurs in the forest felt like they had done something very wrong. "At once!"
Students touched down around her, faces lit with sheepish smiles. "Isn't it a lovely evening, Professor," Malfoy said as he disembarked, and had McGonagall been marginally less absolutely furious, she might have agreed.
"Enough, Malfoy." She snapped. The team gathered around her like puppies who knew they had done something a little wrong and they were a little sorry. But they weren't puppies. They were her students and "What is the meaning of this, Weasley?!" McGonagall demanded, rounding on the girl.
Weasley had gathered her cloak around her a little more firmly, flying goggles pushed up over her mass of flyaway hair. "Well Professor," the girl began, "We were having a few issues regarding the Holyhead formation-"
"Do not play games with me." McGonagall warned succinctly, sternly, and still Weasley maintained that impish look about her. "I'm of a mind to ban you all from playing on Sunday."
That was enough. Rose went from looking as though this was all a jolly lark to looking queasy. "Oh Merlin, Professor, no; Please don't! It really was that everyone had got so stressed and I thought-"
"Thought what, Miss Weasley?" The Scotswoman said primly, steely eyed. "That making a mockery of Gryffindor house was a good idea?"
"No, just that-"
"Detention, Miss Weasley. From now until Easter – and you may start at once."
Rose looked distraught, "But the match-"
"You may still," McGonagall said clearly, seeing the girl's mother look back at her from the wide, distressed eyes. "play in the match. But make no mistake, Granger," Rose tilted her head, "Weasley; This kind of behaviour will not be tolerated."
Weasley nodded. The team behind her stood looking browbeaten but very much behind her. There was something about Weasleys that had always inspired this dogmatic loyalty, McGonagall thought, frustrated.
"Very well," She said, finality in her tone. "Then we'll say no more on the matter. But for Merlin's sake, would you all put some clothes on."
She turned her back on the mumbled "Yes, Proffessor's" and "But these are my Calvins, Proffesor's" and strode across the grass pitch towards the school. As she thought of the letters she would now have to write, she allowed herself a small, wry smile. Albus would have been in stitches.
Back on the pitch, the tension left the team in a wave and turned to chattering as they bundled themselves off towards the changing rooms. Only Rose stayed behind, a muted expression on her face.
"Hey," Scorp nudged her shoulder and she glanced up at him, worrying the inside of her cheek with her teeth. "It was a really good idea."
Rose snorted, smile briefly lighting her face. "You would say that," she pointed out as she started towards the warmth. "You started it."
"True!" Scorp agreed, keeping pace. "And I stand by the fact that it would have been even better if we were starkers. But we made the Holyhead formation work!"
Rose stilled, "Fuck it, we did. We actually did."
"Yeah, turns out that when everyone relaxed-" Scorpius kept talking but Rose wasn't really listening. The huge stadium lights had started glowing dully as the light had fled the sky, and it lit up Scorpius's profile. Rose found herslef watching the dips of his collar bones, the movement of his jawbone, the way the scar on his neck shifted when he breathed – Rose was staring. Rose was staring and Rose was suddenly struck by the fact that this man was stunning.
"Rosie?" Oh Merlin, what was she doing?
"Mmm?"
"You okay?"
Rose dragged her gaze from the glimpse of shoulder that she could see under his cloak, the finely carved torso still littered with the latest accumulation of cuts and bruises.
"Fine," She said hoarsely. "Just fine."
She was no idiot. This was lust. Nothing else. This was the fact that they'd been flying around entirely unselfconsciously and it was the most like herself she had felt in months. This was the fact that he had just split it off with his girlfriend and that was the only reason she was even letting herself look and –
She jerked when Scorp clutched her hand. "Stop striding off, Weasley. Jesus. You know McGonagall wasn't really pissed, right? She loves y-"
Rose looked up and caught Scorpius's grey eyes, and they changed. They changed. And all Rose could think was "Oh shit," in the moment before she rose up on her tiptoes to meet Scorpius's lips.
"My evening was fine; Thank you so much for asking!" Albus cheerfully snarked as he peeled his shirt off in readiness for bed. "I had-" and his voice muffled as he stuffed a toothbrush in his mouth. "The mosht inshigurating conversashion wif Ernie Shackleforsh abousht those plantsh I've propogated!"
"Ernie who?"
Scorpius was lying flat on his back. He'd been there, prone, a dazed look in his eyes, since he'd made his way back from the pitch. The quidditch kit that the team had gleefully shed was back on, and he was entirely oblivious to the marks that his leather boots were leaving on his sheets.
"Ernie," spit "Shackleford."
"Ah."
"Yeah, and he reckons that-" Albus's voice muffled as he pulled his stripy pyjama top over his head. "if I spoke to the healers at St. Mungos-"
"I kissed your cousin."
Albus got lost inside his shirt. "What the hell, Malfoy!?" he cried out of an arm hole.
Scorpius had found a spider crawling in amongst the ceiling beams. "Yeah."
"Why?!"
The spider attached itself to one beam and jumped, a trail of silk thread streaming from it.
"Dunno, mate."
It alighted on the window sill. The moonlight caught the silver webbing and really, it was sort of tranquil.
"Malfoy!"
Albus reappeared from the inside of his shirt, black hair an uncontrollable mess. "Why the hell would you kiss my cousin?" He moaned, looking traumatised. "You could have any rebound you wanted and you picked my cousin?!"
"Hey!" Scorp sat up, straight into the spider's web. "Fuck, shit. Hey, no! Nobody said rebound?!"
Albus said nothing. Albus just looked at him. And it was the same look that Scorpius had got when he'd accidentally set fire to their dorm in third year, and it was the same look that he'd got when he'd pleaded with Albus not to tell on him in fourth year because it didn't need stitches and couldn't Al fix it? And it was the same look that Scorpius had been given when he'd fucked up in first year, and he was terrified that Albus was going to walk away.
"She isn't," Scorpius said vehemently, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forwards. "Al, mate, I wouldn't do that."
Albus sat down heavily on his bed across from Scorpius. "Scorp, it's not what I think. It's what the rest of the school will think. Everybody else. Your team. Naya is already saying that you cheated on her with Rose – you've heard all of those rumours. Don't drag Rose into it, Scorp. You'll make everything Naya is saying true. It's not fair on her."
Scorp blinked. "But it's not true. What Naya's been saying. It's not true."
"You're dense."
"It's honestly not."
"I know it's not, you pleb. It's everybody else."
"They don't matter."
Albus groaned and let himself fall back on his bed. "Oh my God, you arse. Why are you like this."
Scorpius didn't really feel that that warranted an answer. But he gave it one anyway. "Daddy issues, mainly. I don't think it matters, mate. I honestly doubt she's even talking to me anymore."
Albus groaned again.
"No, really; she was off like a light. I've never seen her move that fast."
Pulling his covers firmly over his head, Albus sighed. "Why can't you two just hate each other like everyone expected?"
Albus was deep in conversation with Hugo when Scorpius made it to breakfast the next morning. The redhead was warily chewing on a piece of toast whilst Al waved his hands around wildly. Scorp had a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"What's all this then, lads?" He asked, slipping in between Albus and a curly haired fourth year. He shot her an apologetic grin that she sniffed at. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to his friends. "Who are we talking about?"
"It's not about someone." Potter sounded affronted, and Scorpius tried not to relax too obviously as he helped himself to bacon. "It's about a something."
Scorp blinked owlishly at him, whilst Hugo nodded emphatically. "What's a something when it's at home?"
"I was telling you about it last night." Al hedged, clearly begging Scorpius to quit being a dimwit and catch on. When the blond continued to look blank, he carried on: "I was telling you all about it."
Scorpius chewed slowly on his bacon and looked around the table, hunting for inspiration. "I am very clever."
"Pfft."
"But in this case, you've lost me. Is it a ghost? Am I getting warmer? Is it Nick?"
Albus groaned in frustration and tugged on his black hair. "Malfoy, you are looking at it. Right now."
Leaning back on the bench, Scorpius looked the shorter boy up and down. He squinted. He tilted his head to one side. He tried another piece of bacon, wondering if it would help. It didn't.
"Weasley – what am I missing?" He asked eventually, still scrutinizing Albus. "Because people are going to start talking if I stare much longer. Not-" He intervened quickly, "that I would mind. Because you're a strapping bloke, Potter, really."
"Asshole."
"Look at his head." Hugo suggested, happier now that Albus's arms had stilled their flailing. "Helps if you kind of close one eye."
Doing just so, Scorp fought the urge to leap out of his seat. "What the bloody-!?"
Around Albus's head, invisible until they caught the light, tiny spores appeared and disappeared. They had thin tendrils coming off of them and they clung to Potter's hair. "Al, you've got dandruff!"
"Asshole." Al said mildly whilst Hugo sniggered.
"What are they?!"
"And," Hugo cut in, clearly resuming the conversation that had restarted when Scorpius joined them. "why did you bring them to breakfast?"
"They," Albus said with a cocky grin. "are dust mites."
Scorpius knew dust mites. They collected in his house, which would always feel cavernous no matter how many paintings and newspaper clippings and childish finger paintings the family stuck to the walls. "Albus, they are not. They have wiggly bits."
The fourth year at Scorpius's elbow giggled, and Scorp looked down at her and frowned for a moment. "You should not have found that funny. You shouldn't appreciate the humour in that." He chastened, and then gaped. "Oh good God, I'm my father."
"They can pick up the bacteria that spread infection." Albus explained when Scorpius returned his attention to the matter at hand. "They're the spores of-"
"That mouldy stuff you've been breeding on the window sill?!"
"Exactly."
"No way." Scorpius stared open-mouthed at the area above Albus's head. "So they stop-"
"The spread of illness and disease, exactly."
"Holy sh-" The fourth year looked up at Scorpius expectantly. He cut himself off. "Good gracious, Al."
Albus looked pleased with himself, and rightfully so. "I'm taking a sample to the Head Healer at St. Mungo's this coming holiday to see if they're of any use."
Scorpius just nodded, astonished. "You're a bloody genius, mate." He looked around the table for the person he'd usually exchange a proud, parental grin with. "Where's Rose?"
{{So, my whole "I will upload one chapter per week plan and ideally on a weekend" plan has completely gone out of the window. I mean, I'm disorganised but that's embarrassing even for me. And it gets worse! I'm going scuba diving in Turkey for a couple of weeks so won't be uploading again for a bit. As an apology, there is an extra chapter hot on the heels of this one! IOU cookies. Sorry, chaps.}}
