Author's Note: Extra special thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed and favorited! It's still Sunday in my timezone, so I'm counting this as on time. ;D Unbeta'd but I did my best! Please let me know if I missed anything. :) Hope y'all enjoy! Cheers.
Disclaimer: Characters mentioned are used without permission and are trademarks of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Studios, while Drive Me Crazy is property of 20th Century Fox. I do not own them and am simply borrowing for my purposes. Please don't sue!

How to Deal
by Bether

Chapter 6: No Muss, No Fuss

The Slytherin/Hufflepuff match was a surprisingly close game. In the end, though, all the heart in the world couldn't stop the more skilled Slytherin team. Rose was ecstatic for Scorpius. At some point, rooting for her faux-boyfriend had turned from habit into genuine enthusiasm.

This time, she didn't wait for Scorpius on the pitch—the weather was rubbish and she was still recovering from a bout of influenza. Instead, she headed inside and snuck down to the kitchen. The House Elves there were happy to see her and even happier to fill her request for a tray of pumpkin pasties. (They were Scorpius's favorite treat; inexplicably, he didn't care much for chocolate.)

Rose chatted amicably with a couple of the Elves, enjoying a cup of hot cider as she waited. It was over an hour before everything was ready—pastries never tasted right when magically prepared instead of properly oven baked—and she thanked the Elves profusely for their work. They were, of course, only too pleased to have helped.

The halls were mostly empty as Rose slipped out of the kitchens. She figured Scorpius would be celebrating with his team, so she headed for the dungeons.

As expected, there were the muted sounds of a party coming from behind the common room entrance. What Rose had not thought about was her lack of password. She was just considering leaving the tray to the side of the entryway and hoping someone found it when a couple of fifth year boys made a somewhat fumbling exit, just barely missing Rose and her tray in their obliviousness. (Prats.)

She was half a step into the room when she spotted Scorpius. He was in a liplock with a darkhaired girl from the year below theirs that Rose recognized as Pansy Parkinson's slag of a daughter Ophelia. (She'd never actually had much interaction with the girl but, as she was currently snogging Rose's boyfriend, she figured it was probably an accurate character judgment. Sure, he was only her pretend boyfriend but Ophelia didn't know that.)

The platter fell from her hands, the metal making a loud clang as pasties littered the ground around it. The noise was enough to catch Scorpius's attention and he (along with the majority of the occupants in the room) turned to look at her. Rose only had eyes for the boy she'd thought had at least a passing respect for her person, though. Her expression was even and her eyes fierce as she met his gaze for a moment that felt as if it lasted hours.

Nodding sharply, she spun on her heel and stalked away. Rose was furious—she knew she was furious—but traitorous tears were already making her eyes burn. From somewhere behind her, she heard Scorpius calling after her but that just sent her into a run.

Instead of heading to the Gryffendor common room (where she'd undoubtedly be asked all kinds of probing questions), she made for the Prefect's bathroom. It was large and usually empty after quiddich matches. Most importantly, though, it was private and the door had a lock. There would be no well-meaning but unwelcome comfort from housemates or cousins there. No, here she would be able to wallow in her misery as much and as long as she wanted.

Not that she was miserable, of course. No, Rose didn't care that Scorpius had acted the part of the cad. That was his business as far as she was concerned. It was just the disrespect that it showed. Friends should not treat each other that way. (And she had honestly thought they were friends.)

It was just that here, alone in the large bathroom, she somehow felt his betrayal all the more acutely. Especially when she finally gave herself permission to let her choked sobs free. She'd never cried over a boy before—never. Not even Dirk, who was basically the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

Rose vowed she'd forget all about this ridiculous business with Scorpius Malfoy. Her plans were ruined, anyway, and she didn't have room in her life to waste on him.

Word spread quickly through the castle about the incident between Rose and Scorpius. Thankfully, though, the sympathy wasn't too overbearing this time—probably due to the perpetual scowl that now resided on Rose's face. (An incensed Weasley was a rather frightening thing.) Even her cousins and brother were tolerable, simply offering hugs, support and ears of all shapes and sizes to listen if she wanted to talk.

In fact, the only person who really wasn't following Rose's nonverbal edict message to sod off was Scorpius Malfoy. He spent their shared classes trying to get her attention and the rest of the time attempting to corner her. He finally succeeded one afternoon outside the greenhouses before Herbology. "Rose, listen—"

"Scorpius, stop." Rose crossed her arms, realizing she couldn't avoid the inevitable any longer. She looked away for a moment to gather her wits and then turned back to face him. "You don't need to explain. That was part of the deal, remember?" To her own ears, her voice rang hollow and the pit in her stomach that she just could not get rid of turned over unpleasantly.

He frowned. "But—"

"All right, Rose?" The (entirely welcome) interruption came from none other than Professor (and honorary Uncle) Longbottom. He was smiling in an affable way but there was steel in his gaze.

Rose forced a strained smile and nodded. "Of course, sir." She gave Scorpius a look that told him not to follow if he wanted to maintain use of all his limbs and sauntered into the greenhouse for class.

After that, he seemed to get the message. She couldn't figure out why she was disappointed by that. Because she'd gotten what she wanted… right?

It was two weeks later when Rose found herself alone with Abigail in one of the dungeon corridors. She didn't know why she was loitering—seriously, what was she doing?—but here they were. "Abigail," she greeted with a nod.

"Rose," the other girl returned, as standoffish as ever. Brilliant.

Suppressing a sigh, Rose smile tightly instead. "Listen, I understand why you were frustrated with Scorpius's behavior," she started; "I know you wanted him to be there with you at St. Mungo's—"

Abigail's eyes narrowed. "He told you about that?"

Rose ignored her hostile tone. "Did you know his mother was sick for over two years before she died?"

The shock was visible on Abigail's face. "What?"

"Yeah," Rose nodded. "And for the majority of that time, guess where she stayed."

A look of understanding dawned on the younger girl's face. "Oh. I-I didn't realize…"

Shrugging, Rose stuck her hands in the pockets of her robes. "Most people don't; the Malfoys like their privacy." For obvious reasons, she thought, considering how many things—most outright untrue—were said about them. "Makes sense that he wouldn't be too keen on going to the hospital, though, don't you think?"

Abigail nodded, eyes clouded. Rose returned the gesture before turning to walk away.

"Hey, Rose?" The call came before she was fully out of hearing distance.

Rose stopped, glancing back over her shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Why are you defending him?" Abigail asked after another few seconds of hesitation. "With everything that happened, I mean."

That was a good question—one Rose didn't have a particularly good answer for. So she just shrugged again. "Because I still think he's a good person," she said, surprised to find she meant it. "He made a mistake but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to be happy." And, for reasons she didn't understand or care to dissect, she did want him to be happy.

Abigail bit her lip. "Yeah, okay." She looked down. "Thanks."

Rose watched her for a minute before continuing on her way. She was relatively certain she'd done the right thing (even if the precise reasons weren't entirely clear just then). The thing she couldn't figure out was why she didn't feel better about it.