{{in which;

scorpius gets very told off by albus
the fat lady is just 100% done with literally everybody
naya's new squeeze makes a cameo (and a bit of a mess)
the princess bride is like, my whole entire jam}}

Getting out of the Gryffidnor tower was the easy bit.

Scorpius had started sneaking when he was twelve, and he'd gotten rather good at it. It was all a matter of working out the creakiest floorboards and skirting past that plant on the coffee table. It shrieked if you got too close. Scorpius turned around to warn Rose, waving his arms above his head in a vaguely plant-ish fashion, and saw that the redhead had already moved out of range. He watched, distracted for a moment, as she effortlessly ducked under the low hanging bell attached to the bookcase (F.W and G.W were carved into the wood just above – there was no question about removing the bell, but plenty of questions about just why it was there) and she managed the hop/skip/jump over the squeakiest floorboards without a thought. She made it look easy.

"Just how many times have you gone out at night?" Scorp hissed, catching up with her by the portrait. Rose raised a questioning eyebrow as she pulled her wand out. "Aren't you the 'sleep of the dead' kind?"

"Even the dead get snacky." Rose replied, looked a little affronted. "Shall we?"

Navigating the school at night was one of Scorpius's greatest pleasures. He loved the way that the halls, usually so rambunctious, fell silent. He had yet to work out if ghosts slept; Probing had often resulted in "Surely death is a sleep long enough" and "I live to sleep, Mr Malfoy," followed by loud guffawing – But they certainly weren't around in the lesser hours of the morning. It was nearing half past three by the time that Scorpius and Rose slipped out of the common room. The Fat Lady opened one eye in order to shoot them a filthy look, but otherwise passed no comment. The pair clung to the shadows. Overhead, bats flitted around as they rounded up the day's insects for an alfresco supper.

"So, the plan." Rose whispered. The two of them had skirted down the walls of the castle before peeling off under the tapestry of Edward Eyre's floating citadel. From there, they'd taken three flights of stairs and ducked behind a set of dragon's armour. A hoard of elves had skittered past, arms filled with laundry. "The first owls of the day are cleared for flight at, what? Five a.m?"

"I think it's four." Scorp breathed back. They were shoulder to shoulder, and Rose was clearly enjoying herself. Every time she got to duck under a window or jerk to a halt in front of him, Scorp saw the naked glee zip across her face. This was either going to go so, so well – or they were getting arrested. There were no alternatives. "The news comes in off of the press then. Mum's deadlines usually come in half-an-hour beforehand."

Rose looked interested. "I never knew that."

"Yeah, you'll have to come see her office sometime. It's like Sherlock's lair."

Rose gasped. "You muggled!"

"I did not!"

"You absolutely did! I'm so proud of you."

"Fuck off."

"So rude. You get to be on watch because of that."

"What am I watching for?" Scorpius asked as they reached the heavy wooden door to the owlery.

"Trouble." Rose said, waving her hand in a vague I don't know why are you asking me it should be obvious fashion. She shoved on the door experimentally, but it didn't budge. Pressing the tip of her wand to the lock, she cast alohomora and let the pair of them in. There was a final flight of stairs in front of the pair - it circled around the tower before revealing the owlery, all wide open windows to make for easy flight paths. It also meant that the air at the bottom of the stairs was frigid, and Rose's breath came and went with small clouds of water vapour.

"Rosie, we are the trouble." Scorp pointed out.

"And you're so accomplished at your job, Scorp! You've already found some. Well done." Rose said indulgently. "Now, go lean on the door and look pretty. The first owls start going out in ten minutes, so we might have a wait."

"And what are you doing?" Scorp was suspicious.

"I'm checking the logs for outgoing birds. And plants." Rose answered, apparently without a care in the world, as she turned and started to climb the stairs. She disappeared from view, leaving Scorpius to look pretty and stand watch. Tension immediately started twisting his gut, spiking his pulse and turning the wry half-grin onto his lips into a grim shadow of itself. Rationally, he knew that there was nothing to worry about. It's fine, he told himself, hand clenching and unclenching around his wand. She's fine.

And then there was a scream, a flash of light, and smoke filled the stairwell behind him.

Rose's logic had gone something like this:

One – There was no sensible reason for anyone to be anywhere near the owlery at ten to four in the morning.

Two – The only reason for someone to be in the owlery at ten to four in the morning was to send Albus's plants far, far away at four a.m on the dot.

Three – And if that was the case, she was going to kick ass.

Four – Scorp was right there if she needed back-up.

So, in fairness, her logic was sound.

(Option two came about rather quickly.)

Rose had climbed the final stair with her wand held defensively in front of her. Her eyes had long since adjusted to the half-light that the moon was throwing through the gaping windows - and the figure bent over the owlery's ledger made no effort to conceal themselves. A slim, dark haired man stood with his back to her. His wand glowed starkly as lumos lit the pages in front of him. Rose took in the way his fingers were hurriedly skimming over the pages, the dark cape that he wore flapping in the breeze. And there – at his feet – was a hessian sack.

Rose didn't think. "Levicorpus!" she cried, snapping her wrist. Her shout was loud in the silent room, and the man jumped before whirling around.

The jinx never hit. Instead, it hit the air in front of him and appeared to shatter. Red, opaque shards flew chaotically and flames sparked where they hit.

"Ventus!" The man – boy – screamed, as Rose recovered and yelled "Levicorpus!" again. Because of course it was Naya's new "friend." Frobisher. Nicholas Frobisher.

His jinx caused something akin to a wind tunnel in the room, and Rose's eyes watered as she dug her feet in and stood her ground. She was furious. How dare he. Her wand was a blur as she cracked spell after spell across the Ravenclaw's back. That's for what the two of you did to Scorpius, she thought bitterly, and tugged him into the air again. Rose advanced into the unrelenting wind, eyes sleep deprived and vicious. That's for ruining Albus's work. She snapped her wand again, a horrendous cracking sound reverberating around the room as she sent jets of white light to pull at his arms. Warding her off, the Ravenclaw's spell casting was getting sloppy and messy. Frobisher sent birds which Rose turned into arrows of hard, dangerous light and shot back at him. He got lucky – Rose's levicorpus wore off at just the right moment. The lanky Ravenclaw dropped to the ground, and the arrows hit the wall and dissipated in crackling embers. That is for coming anywhere near my family. Shards of jade, that sent him hurtling backwards, left him reeling at the window edge, only to jerk him back at the last moment. And that is to make sure that you never try again. The sparks that fell were caught in the wind, which fanned them into a blaze. They silently caught the stacks of parchment and loose straw in the room, and suddenly crackling heat started to fill the room. Rose's hair whipped around her, and that was how Scorpius found them when he burst in. Flames and fire, and an avenging goddess.

And, if he were very honest, it was kind of a turn-on.

"Rose!" he screamed above the wind. The owls had fled their perches in a cacophonous chorus of screeching. "Rosie, enough!"

Either Rose couldn't hear or was so lost to him that it fell on deaf ears. The flames were dancing now; They licked their way up the walls and caressed the stones, leaving sooty stains in their wake. "Weasley!" Scorp tried again, before lurching forwards and grabbing her wrist. She turned to him with wide, wild eyes. "Enough, Rose. Enough."

Rose's wand stilled. The sudden quiet was eery, and Rose's chest heaved from the effort. She, Scorpius realised, had been sustaining the wind, and now without that fury fuelling her... Holding Rose's gaze steady, Scorp called "Don't move," to the Ravenclaw, who stood with his wand braced protectively, a snarl on his lips.

"Lunatics." Frobisher spat, and Rose watched Scorpius's eyebrows raise.

"That's not nice." He said, turning. He kept a hold on Rose – hand going from her wrist to the small of her back. "That's not nice at all."

"She almost killed me," Frobisher sounded venomous.

"'Almost' being the key word." Scorpius said, and though the words were light, his voice was hard. His father's voice was in the back of his mind, that "Carefully does it," that had been the calmer side to his mother's wildfire spontaneity. He felt Rose bristle under his hand and knew that she would be just as happy to go after the Ravenclaw with bare fists.

"For the time being," Rose snapped. "What's in the bag, Frobisher?"

"You can't touch it. It's private property."

Rose flicked her wand. The rope around the bag began to elegantly untie itself, and Frobisher watched with a scowl as small, green leaves became visible.

"Private property." Rose repeated sourly, stepping forwards and scooping it up. She glared at the Ravenclaw with raw, unbridled defiance. "Damned straight it is. This belongs to my family, you cheating shit."

"Aww, what are you going to do about it?" Frobisher goaded, tone patronising. He took a step closer, sounding braver now that Rose had slipped her wand into her back pocket, arms around the sack. He was within arms length when he went, "Run to Mummy? Is that what you're going to do? Tell the Minister of Magic that I was naughty? Or to Daddy? Hey, Weasley, why don't you-"

There was a dangerous twitching in Rose's jaw, and Scorpius reached for her in the second before her right arm swung. Frobisher didn't get anything in beyond a spasm of his wand before he dropped like a stone.

"Ow, ow, fuck." Rose cursed, clutching her knuckles and hopping around. "Oh Merlin, ow."

Scorpius's jaw had fallen open. "Did you knock him out?"

"I don't know." Rose said, still waving her hand. "Bastard. I think I've broken this, actually."

"You knocked him out, oh my God."

"Malfoy!"

"He must weigh twice as much as you!"

"You are the worst partner in crime."

"Okay, right now, you're the criminal. That was assault." Scorp pointed out reasonably. He looked around the room, taking in the flames that had quickly eaten away at the woodwork and the perches devoid of owls. It had, he realised belatedly, gotten a little warm in here.

"Woops." He said.

By the time they had extinguished the worst of the flames, Rose was yawning. This had been the longest day of her life, and they had made such a lot of mess. When the night starts with being astonishingly drunk and ends with memory extraction, it just has to be a Monday.

Memory extraction is a tricky business, one that only the most experienced wizards should really undertake. But when a groggy and disorientated Frobisher had come to – trussed up inelegantly in a chair, suspended from the ceiling – it had all seemed like the only sensible option. Especially as Rose appeared to have dealt him a concussion that had robbed him of most of the events, anyway. A well placed "Obliviate" and the duo called it a day. Or night. Somewhere around very early morning. The Ravenclaw was deposited inside of his dormitory alongside a mostly empty bottle of firewhiskey, filched from the disarray of the Gryffindor party, for dramatic affect.

("I go in hard, I come out soft. You blow me hard. What am I?" "Oh, easy, dicks." "Merlin's beard, Weasley." "Is that not the answer?" "Bubble gum, Rose." "Oh. Oh my God.")

The walk back to the Gryffindor dormitory was more of a stagger. The pair leant against each other as they stood in front of the Fat Lady.

"...Please." Scorpius said, voice hoarse.

For once, the Fat Lady did not argue. She simply swung open, wide eyed and excited. Oh, the gossip. Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Weasley had been out all night together! It didn't matter one jot that they had come back looking like a culinary student's disaster – she had barely noticed, to tell the truth.

"That," Scorpius said, as the pair parted ways. "was one of the best nights of my life."

"Weirdly, I agree." Rose replied, smiling tiredly. Scorpius didn't even think about it; He laced their fingers together and squeezed. She looked up at him, smile widening. But when she went up on her tiptoes and pressed the softest of kisses to Scorpius's lips, he was amazed. It took a moment for his brain to catch up and to press his hand to the small of her back. She moved against him, a hand going up and tangling in his hair. Scorpius tasted her laugh and she pulled back. "Wow," he said when she showed him the scorched hair that had come away in her hand. "I'm finally going to look tough."

"I wouldn't go that far," Rose replied, kindly handing him his hair. "Night, Scorp."

"Sleep well, Rosie." Scorpius said around a grin. "Hey, Rosie, wait!"

She turned on the stairs. "Still good for the ball?"

"Will you look tough?"

"Depends if Al beats me up."

"Oh, in that case. I look forwards to it. Night, Scorp."

"Night, sweetheart." Scorp was still smiling when he fell onto his bed, fully clothed. He was not smiling when an stern-looking house-elf shook him awake not one hour later, and told him that the Headmistress was waiting.

"So, here's what happened." Rose Weasley leant across the desk in a confidential manner. Her hair was a dishevelled mess, her sweatshirt hung untidily off of one shoulder, and she had soot marks across one high cheekbone. Minerva McGonagall regretted not taking an early retirement. "It was entirely my fault – I do agree with that - but really it was all a misunderstanding."

"That never happened." Scorpius Malfoy said, looking almost offended. "We would never do that!" His hair was dramatically shorter on one side than the other, his shirt sleeves were blackened around the edges, and he'd just gingerly plucked a piece of glass from his forehead whilst Minevra McGonagall watched with a stony face. "It was nothing to do with us. Just a really unfortunate series of events."

"I wasn't a part of it." Albus Potter said tiredly. He was excused.

"And what kind of a misunderstanding could result in half of the Owlery being set alight?" the headmistress asked in that low, controlled voice that usually sent students scurrying. "Miss Weasley, I'm sure you're aware that this could be seen as an act of sabotage."

Rose looked outraged, "It was nothing of the sort! It was good old fashioned revenge!"

"And which events lead to the Owlery going up in flames?" Professor McGonagall peered over the edge of her glasses. Malfoy was leaning back in his chair, the picture of ease, and if the Scotswoman hadn't already spoken to his accomplice, she'd have felt compelled to let him go.

"Unfortunate ones." Scorpius reiterated, flashing her a what can you do about it smile. "Very unfortunate ones."

"The damages alone are worth your summer term's fees, Miss Weasley." McGonagall said, conveniently forgetting, for a moment, that with a little careful spellwork the entire thing could be put right in minutes. She was rewarded by a grey pallor taking over the girl's face and a shudder rippling through her body. Money, apparently, was still a delicate point amongst Weasleys. "So why don't you stop wasting my time and tell me why you are sitting in my office and still smouldering slightly?"

Rose battled her conscience for a moment. "Okay, okay. It started when Albus grew these plants on his windowsill."

"Do you have no understanding of just how much the damages will cost the school?" McGonagall probed. Scorpius Malfoy was lounging in her chair, although she suspected much of it to be an act. "'Non-flammable' is not a challenge, Mr Malfoy."

"Is it not?" Scorpius replied, apparently surprised. "You know, Professor, I have learnt a lot today. About flammability, remorse, apologising from the bottom of my heart…"

The Scotswoman was unmoved. Detentions were given. Scorpius Malfoy left her office with shreds of his dignity and it was only as he disappeared through her door that McGonagall realised that his trousers were merely charred tatters from below the knee. Bright red and yellow polka-dot socks seemed to mock her as the lad strode cheerfully away.

"Well," The formidable headmistress pursed her lips as she evaluated the teenager in front of her. Rose wore an expression of abject remorse, and if it hadn't been for the twinkle in her eyes McGonagall would have been prepared to believe just how deeply sorry the girl was. "Would you do it again?"

"Absolutely." Rose said, without hesitation. She winced, and corrected herself, "but not the burning the Owlery bit. I am so very sorry for that."

"Humph." The headmistress humphed. "Detention, Miss Weasley. And I will be talking to your parents."

"Oh, smashing! Could you tell them that Albus's plants are safe?"

McGonagall wished again that she had a bottle of something stashed in her desk.

Albus Potter was waiting.

Scorpius came down the stairs from McGonagall's office with a smile playing about his mouth and a certain glee in his mannerisms. He met Albus's glare head on and didn't falter. Al stood with his back ramrod straight, his black fluffy hair doing little to soften the look of murderous intent about him. Most other students had taken careful steps to avoid the lad in his blackest of moods, but not Scorpius. Never Scorpius. The blond headed straight for him and leant against the wall beside him, tugging a hand through his singed and blackened hair.

"Alright, Potter?" He asked casually, pretending that the smell of burnt hair went entirely unnoticed.

Albus pursed his lips.

"Aw, really, mate? You said you wouldn't be mad!"

"I said no such thing!" Albus exploded, wheeling on his best-friend. "And you! You said that you would stop doing stupid shit!"

Scorpius looked puzzled by that. He was certain that he had never made such a rash promise in his life.

"Are you angry at me?" He asked, "Because - and don't take this the wrong way - I'm seeing signs…"

"Take a guess." Albus replied, voice icy.

"No."

"Take another guess."

Scorp recoiled, looking a little wounded. "We got your plants back, Al!"

"They weren't worth it! They were not worth it at all! You burnt down the fucking Owlery."

"Just a little. And of course it was worth it. Don't be thick."

"You're still smoking, Malfoy!"

Scorp looked a little concerned, patting his front down and looking for any lingering embers. "Nope. Al, I think we can agree that you're being a little melodramatic."

"You are insane Malfoy. You and Rose!"

"You call it insane, we call it Wednesday."

"It's Monday, Scorpius."

"Is it really?" Scorp was looking decidedly not-sorry.

"How much trouble are you in?" Albus asked, and ah – there was the root of the problem.

"Barely any," Scorp said breezily. "I think McGonagall found the whole thing a bit of a jolly lark, to tell the truth. Potter-" He looked at Albus beseechingly. "Come on, mate. You would have done the same for me. It's family, right?"

Albus did not like having his hair ruffled. But some things – like bone crushing hugs from Scorpius Malfoy – just had to be endured.

Rose managed to avoid being told off by Albus. She credited this to being the one who left his plants on his bed, carefully swaddled in her protective quidditch gear and with a woolly hat placed over it's little leaves. She didn't leave a note, assuming that the big "WEASLEY" across the back of her vest would be enough of a calling card. Sure enough, the next time she saw Albus, he tugged her into a hug.

"You stink," he'd muttered into Rose's singed hair.

"You're a dick." Rose returned, squeezing him.

"Did you really knock somebody out?"

"Fight me."

"Not on your life." Albus pulled away, shaking his head and looking disparaging. "I thought we were the ones who looked on whilst Scorp did shit like this? And shook our heads? And drank tea?"

Rose shrugged apologetically. The common room was full of students coming or going from lunch, and she had spent most of the morning either being yelled at by McGonnogall or dozing off. Right now, the sofa looked like the comfiest place on Earth and she sunk down onto it. She was right – the slightly saggy cushions and the warmth of the fire was the only place she ever wanted to be. Outside, the wind had picked up again. It rattled the windows, and she shifted her shoulders when a chill made it's way down her spine. "Albus, you're family – I was always going to do something stupid. Scorp just enabled me – He's like a gateway drug, you know?"

Albus professed that he did not have a clue what Rose was on about, and that he didn't want to, either.

"You cannot beat up everybody that you have a problem with, Rose." He said instead, sliding his bag over his shoulder.

"Not everybody." Rose agreed, pulling a book towards her from on top of the coffee table. The Princess Bride, the title proclaimed. She turned it over and read the back: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge - It looked pretty good, actually. Revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes - "But I can try."

True love.

Miracles.