Author's Notes:
Revised December, 2013 - corrected SPaG and added an addition 1000+ words of content to make the plot more robust and to add some foreshadowing. Hope you enjoy!
CHAPTER 3: CASUALTY OF IRONY
Wednesday, June 25th, 2031 (night)
It had taken Scorpius two days to recover from his Veela transition, which had been the single worst experience of his entire life.
To simply say it had sucked would be the understatement of the fucking year. It had sucked super hard, with a heaping side order of goblin testicle soufflé for good measure.
Stage one had commenced that fated night with blinding pain, as his magical aura had shifted to accommodate the combining of the Veela's innate magic with his own. Thankfully, that experience had quickly ended as his Veela had woken up without much prodding, as if it had been eagerly awaiting its official emergence into the world.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, as the case had been), the pain morphed into an uncontrollable lust the likes of which Scorpius had never known. Like some sort of turbo-charged wizarding porn star hyped up on Pecker-Up Potion, his cock had gone as hard as steel within seconds, leaking pre-come everywhere. Believing his father had greatly over-exaggerated the unpleasantness of the Veela 'birthing', he'd stupidly grinned at his dumb luck and polished his knob with a smooth hand stroke.
The moment he'd swiped over his glans, however, he'd opened the flood gates—literally, and the tiny bit of sexual pleasure he'd experienced had evolved into pain again very quickly.
During the next horrible twenty minutes, he'd been unable to stop a series of powerful, gut-wrenching ejaculations flowing from the head of his erection. He'd counted six major explosions, with countless mini-orgasms in between. His robe and the bed under and around him had been soaked with the non-stop spurting of his white, creamy seed. It had been all over his hands and his thighs, and had dripped in hot rivulets over his aching, pulsing balls.
Like most boys, Scorpius had, at one time (when he'd been thirteen and wanking five times a day in between classes), fantasized about being able to come continuously in a girl in one long sexual release that would last hours and leave him feeling higher than Jupiter in the sky. The reality, however, was nothing as he'd expected.
Somewhere around the third salvo of sperm, he remembered asking where in the hell it was all coming from, as there was no possible way a person could put out so much goop at one time. By then, his father and grandfather had been long gone, however, having left the room to spare him further embarrassment, so he'd never gotten a response to his question.
By the fifth climax, he hadn't really cared about the answer—he'd just wanted it to stop. He'd even contemplated for a brief moment reaching for the small knife near the ritual bowl and cutting the thing off to get a break.
Thankfully, when the twenty minutes had timed out, his cock had deflated and his passion had cooled.
The fun didn't stop there, however. He'd had a full sixty seconds to recover from that shift in temper when he was suddenly and unexpectedly blindsided by a white-hot, uncontrollable rage.
Ten minutes later, his bedroom looked like a hurricane had blown through it. Furniture and picture frames and windows were broken, the bed covers were twisted and torn, and feathers from his pillows and mattress were scattered across every surface. The only items left untouched were those his father had had the good sense to be-spell against any potential damage—specifically, the ritual area where the scrying bowl awaited use.
By the time the second stage had begun, Scorpius' moods had swung so wildly, flying manically up and down, that he'd felt like a well-used broom. Emotionally wrung out, he'd wanted nothing more than to pass out and sleep for days.
No such luck.
The second stage had sucked even worse than the first. During that period, Scorpius' body had added muscle and bone mass, making him stronger and faster. He'd gone from being in decent shape to being FIT, with a capital 'F'. No more baby fat; even his small beer belly had melted away, leaving behind washboard abs and a tight, toned figure. His five senses had all sharpened, too, allowing him to hear better, to see further, and to smell the minutest scents. On top of it all, his cock had grown another inch in length and had thickened to match—just what he'd needed. Now he really was packing a monster in his trousers. The thing could have its own postal code!
If it hadn't been for the intense pain that had accompanied such changes, he'd probably have thought his forced evolution a cool thing. As it was, though, it had hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. All of the aches he'd ever felt during his growth spurt at thirteen had been a cake walk in comparison.
By the time stage two had ended, Scorpius had wanted someone to just Avada him and put him out of his misery.
If only.
Like stage one, stage three had started after a very short respite. He'd known the moment it began by his limp prick suddenly going rock hard again. His boner this time, though, had been the size of a bargepole, and it had pleaded for attention. It had taken ten minutes for it to desensitize enough for Scorpius to even touch it.
Weak-kneed, he'd shuffled over to the ritual basin, white spots bursting in front of his eyes with every step, trying valiantly to avoid tripping up on the weird ritual Greek-looking toga he'd been forced to wear. Once in position, he'd reached under his robe and gripped his Lord Smith in one tired hand, pointing the tip towards the clear water. Exhausted and on the verge of passing out, he'd wanked and wanked. Half a minute was all it took for him to come for the last time, feeling the burn from the orgasm all through his legs and abdomen.
When he'd finished, he'd tiredly reached for the ritual knife and cut his hand as he'd been instructed, adding three drops of his blood to the white mess that had been half-floating, half-sinking towards the bottom of the ceramic vessel. He'd been careful to stir clockwise as required.
When it was ready, with a weary sigh, he'd leaned over and waited for his doom.
When it came upon him, the vision had struck him with the force of a train, imprinting itself into his memory with a power that nearly staggered. With his magical 'Third Eye' fully opened, Scorpius had heard and seen his future…
"δύο θηρία να διαχωρίσει και να συγχωνευθούν σε μία,"a strange woman's voice had whispered up from the depths of the ceremonial bowl first, forecasting his fate like some sort of Divination seer or an Oracle from the ancient world. The foreign phrase was instantly interpreted for him by some unknown magic, probably a Translation Charm built into the ritual itself: "Two beasts to split and merge into one."
He'd had little time to ponder the meaning of such a portent as the apparition of his mate's face had suddenly appeared within the swirling, herb-scented, semen-enriched waters of the bowl.
What he'd seen had made Scorpius jerk back and fall to his knees as pure, unadulterated fear had rolled over him. He'd sworn up a storm then, doom settling into his chest somewhere in the region of his heart, knowing that he was going to be in for the fight of his life.
He'd had the devastating thought in that moment that if Rose Weasley had hated him before, when they'd been children and arch-rivals, she was going to want him dead for certain now.
Emotionally fried and completed exhausted, and now terrified of the unsure future that lay before him, his body had finally given up the ghost, short-circuited, and he'd lost consciousness, crashing to the floor. Apparently, his father and grandfather had found him minutes later, when they'd dared enter his bedroom to investigate why things had gone so unnaturally silent.
Two blarging days later, he'd woken up, healed and refreshed, and roaring mad with the unfairness of his life. It had been four additional days since then, and now Scorpius sat on a stool in his favourite bar in Knockturn Alley with his best friend, Marcus Zabini, attempting to get as pissed as he possibly could with a top-shelf Hebridean Black Firewhisky (named for one of his great uncles, Hebridean Black, who had invented the drink, not the dragon species of the same name).
He tossed back his third shot, wincing.
Of all the witches he'd ever known, why had the magic chosen Rose to be his mate? The witch had forever hated him. In spades. With daisies and dirt on top. He knew for a fact she'd happily dance on his grave—after putting him in it—if she had her way. So, why her?
Sure, she'd been his first official fancy (unrequited and in secret, obviously), but she'd made it clear from the get-go that she'd never look at him in that manner. He was a Malfoy and the son of a former Death Eater, and in her world (read: being the first born daughter of two of the greatest heroes of the war), that had equated to him being an untouchable – the lowest of the low.
Still, that fact hadn't deterred his feelings; he'd actually gone and fallen in love with the chit by seventh year.
However, like any frustrated, hormonal teenage boy who'd been publicly and repeatedly slighted by the girl of his dreams, Scorpius had made Rose pay for snubbing him throughout the years they'd been in school together. He'd antagonized and bullied her, mercilessly teased and jeered at her, and tripped her up at every opportunity.
All to keep her attentions firmly fixed on him and off other boys, of course.
Rose hadn't been a push-over, though. She'd given back as good as she'd gotten—an Amazonian warrior witch to the max. She'd proved that despite having been sorted Ravenclaw for her vast intelligence and her love of reading (until her eyeballs bled), and the fact that she had the goody-goody heart of a Hufflepuff at times, too, she was most definitely a Granger-Weasley, inheriting the Gryffindor penchant for meeting force with force from her parents. And to be honest, he thought she may have even adopted a bit of her cousin, Albus' Slytherin cunning, too, as her sneak attacks and revenge schemes were legendary stuff.
He shook his head now, remembering some of their nastiest battles. Man, had he really been that much of a prick, seriously? And what a bitch she'd been!
Okay, yes, there had certainly been some nasty pranks, offensive hand gestures, "wayward" spells cast, a slew of vicious words, and a whole lot of cheek traded between them over those seven years. They'd been downright mean to each other. In between it all, though, Scorpius had always wanted Rose. There was never a time he hadn't wanted her, even when he'd been given the opportunity to play around with other witches. She'd always starred in every one of his fantasies, whether it be the ones where they were just friends or the more erotic ones, as he'd gotten older.
The truth was he'd watched her grow up with an increasing sense of unease and an escalating desperation that had mounted every year. Each June that passed them by had taken her one step closer to leaving the school—and him—behind, and even early on, he'd been hurt by that thought. Every birthday she'd celebrated had also meant she was growing into the woman she was destined to become, and Scorpius had well envisioned that beauty by their fourth year. It had irritated him deep inside to think that someday, some other boy would figure out Rose's greatest riddles before him.
By their sixth year, his predictions had begun to come true: Rose had started to bloom, showing all the signs of eventually sharing her mother's girl-next-door beauty. She'd also lost most of her baby fat, thanks to spending hours on the Quidditch pitch, and had sprouted a nice pair of breasts to boot. This, of course, captured the attention of his male classmates, including his stylish and well-liked cousin, Corwin McLaggen, who'd ended up taking Rose to the Yule Ball that Christmas (the bloody wanker!). Scorpius had found himself competing for her attention from then on, as he'd feared.
Tragically, his feelings had always been one-sided, and he'd been heartbroken the minute the farewell celebrations had come to a close at Hogwarts, when Rose had left without even a glance back at him. No final slap, no last volley of insults for old time's sake, she'd simply stepped into the carriage with her parents and younger brother, and had let them take her away without giving him a second thought. He remembered standing at Hogwarts' main gate with his grandmother and grandfather at his side (his father too ill to leave their home even to attend his graduation, supposedly), watching Rose fade out of sight with a distraught curse and spitefully vowing not to think of her ever again.
He'd tried his best over the years to live up to that vow, too, to replace her with any female warm and willing. Okay, yeah, maybe he'd gone a bit overboard with the shagging-anything-that-moved gig, but he'd been determined to fuck away Weasley's unnatural hold over his heart. It had never worked, though. Hell, but she was still in there even to this day, haunting him.
The one girl he'd never had, but had always wanted… and now she was destined to be his life mate, bound to him until death, whether she liked it or not.
Of course, Scorpius' Veela was over the moon at the choice. It had laughed and celebrated in triumph when Rose's face had appeared in the scrying bowl, and after regaining consciousness, it had begun nagging at him to go claim Rose – now, now, now. The thing was as giddy as a sixteen-year-old virgin on his way to his girlfriend's place to lose his cherry.
Fecking happy bastard.
"So, you gonna tell me who she is now or do I need to get you even more shitfaced before you open that mouth of yours?" Zabini asked.
Marcus Zabini was one of the very few who knew Scorpius' family's secret regarding the Veela, but only because his father, Blaise, was one of Scorpius' dad's best friends. Apparently, the elder Zabini had gone through this same exact thing with Draco in the aftermath of after his father's transition.
Scorpius scooted his empty shot glass across the bar, indicating to the barkeep to pour another. "It's Weasley," he said with a sigh.
A moment's silence greeted his pronouncement.
"You're shittin' me? You're stuck with a bloke?"
Scorpius turned to his friend and slapped him upside the head with the flat of his palm. "Not Hugo, moron."
Three more seconds of silence passed before Marcus literally roared with laughter, making every head in the room turn with interest. "Holy shit, Rose?" Zabini continued chuckling. "You'd have been better off with her brother. You're so humped!"
Tipping back his fifth chaser, feeling the burn down her throat and into his belly, Scorpius let the alcohol dim his rioting emotions. Marcus had no clue as to Scorpius' real feelings regarding Rose Weasley–no one did, except his Veela, and he'd prefer to keep it that way.
"Tell me something I don't know, genius."
Zabini asked for a refill on his own drink, waiting until the server was out of earshot before continuing their conversation. "You're sure there's absolutely no way to break the mating thing?"
Feeling the buzz beginning to take him, needing to get good and plowed, Scorpius ordered another round, telling the barman to keep 'em coming until his head hit the wood.
"Sure, there's a few ways: she could die, I could die, or another Veela could magically appear on the scene and claim her as his mate before me, in which case there's a good possibility I might die anyway in the resulting fight. Basically, death for one of us is the only option. Other than that, though, I'm stuck with that tomboyish, smart-mouthed witch for the rest of my life." He raised his full glass and mock saluted. "To the next one-hundred and fifty years of misery!"
Cursing his bad luck once more for being born into this chicken-choking family, Scorpius proceeded to get toasted. Around one in the morning, Marcus dragged him home by Floo; neither of them dared attempt to Apparate in the condition they were in. Helped into his bed by the Malfoy house-elf, he dreamed that night about his various run-ins with his mate while they'd been in school together as kids: Rose besting him at O.W.L.s and turning a smug look upon him across the dining hall, making him eat his earlier words that she'd fail every one of them; Rose beating him to the Snitch yet again; Rose's wand pointed at his nose, preparing to hex him for dumping her books; Rose dancing a waltz with his cousin at the Yule Ball while glaring at him over her date's shoulder as Scorpius danced with some forgettable girl; Rose drinking too much contraband Firewhisky and laughing at some stupid joke he told, giving him her smile for the first time…
Waking the next afternoon with a foul taste in his mouth, a thumper-whump of a hangover pounding through his head, and stinking of sweat, alcohol, and cigars from the bar's smoky interior, Scorpius stared up at the canopy of his bed and swore undying hate for the destiny his life had woven for him.
Minutes later, in the shower, he wanked to the fantasy of Rose's prissy, smart mouth sliding over the entire length of his dick as he fisted that thick, curly hair of hers and shoved himself deep down her throat. He came harder than he ever had before, spilling his seed all over his hand.
Merlin's hairy balls, he was so undeniably bucked - especially if that redheaded firebrand of his ever caught wind to just exactly how much he'd really wanted her for years!
X~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X
Saturday, June 28th, 2031 (afternoon)
A strong, comforting hand landed on Scorpius' knee to stop its nervous jiggling. "Why are you so tense?" his father asked, concern marring his pale brow. "You know this girl well from your school days."
"That's part of the problem," Scorpius replied. "We didn't exactly get on back then."
His dad gave him a reassuring pat and a tight smile and Scorpius returned it. Their relationship was still strained, despite the fact it had improved somewhat over the last several weeks and that Draco was here with him now in a show of solidarity. This was the first time since Scorpius' mum's death that his father had come out into public, in fact – a big step for the man who'd been a self-imposed homebody for fourteen years.
Scorpius' grandmother had once explained her son's withdrawal from the world and his emotional distance from all of them was a result of the loss of Astoria. Apparently, the death of a Veela mate could cause a man sharing his life with a Veela to become mentally imbalanced. If Scorpius were to lose Rose after mating her, he would suffer something similar – either that, or he'd go insane and need to be put down like some feral animal by the Ministry. In his father's case, Draco had dealt with Scorpius' mother's death by completely withdrawing from the world, and it had only been in the last few months, as Scorpius had approached his Veela's coming-of-age ceremony, that the man had seemed to wake-up from whatever mental fog had held him in its thrall for so long.
Although Draco couldn't really be blamed for his illness, the loss of him in Scorpius' life after his mother's death and then all during a very vital part of his growing up had really hurt. To see his father, day after day, just listlessly roaming the property, not really tuned in or interested in his own son's life, had created unintentional resentment on Scorpius' side. He'd spent years putting up walls to keep that pain from hurting him.
They were both trying now that Draco was back to 'normal', though, to fix their relationship. This little outing of theirs to meet with Scorpius' mate and discuss her inclusion into their family was a good way to begin rebuilding bridges between them.
"She's never going to go along with this," Scorpius admitted with some dejection. "She hated me back then, you know."
His father chuckled. "Things change with time. Perhaps she's grown up into a lovely, mature young woman who would be amenable to your suit now. Stranger things have happened, my son."
Swallowing his bitter, cooling tea, Scorpius sniffed. "Right, and I'm getting my virginity back any minute now."
They waited several more minutes in silence, Scorpius trying not to jiggle his knee in agitation, when suddenly his father stiffened up in his chair and let out a small gasp. Drawn to where his dad's gaze was now pinned, he felt his own breath knocked from his lungs as he took in the sight of loveliness approaching.
As Rose and her mum drew near the private table they'd reserved at Madam Puddifoot's for the afternoon, Scorpius couldn't help but gape. As his father had hypothesized, Rose had definitely evolved over the last seven years. Her bushy, crimson hair with its riot of frizzy curls had been tamed and attractively cut to lay about her shoulders in a sexy wave. The dark sprinkling of freckles that had once brushed across her nose had substantially lightened, and now the perfect cream of her skin was plainly evident. Also, without those damnable, ugly glasses she'd always worn in the way, he could now see how bright her aqua-colored eyes really were. And her teeth had been straightened, perfected, as he could see from the brilliant, full smile she displayed.
She wore a lovely summer dress with some blue flower print that complimented the colour of her eyes. The low-cut halter allowed for an interesting cleavage shot, and the skirt's short hem exposed a pair of truly perfect legs. On her feet, strap sandals with a sexy heel put her inches over her mother, closer to Scorpius' own height – at the perfect elevation to capture those ruby lips of hers without having to bend too far. Her jewelry was modest and attractive, but what was most important to him was that there was no hint of a ring on her left hand.
In other words, she was exquisite and unmarried – two things that made Scorpius breathe a huge sigh of relief.
She's here, his Veela growled with pleasure in his head, sitting up and taking note. Scorpius felt its lust and love glowing within him as it met its mate, all grown up. It seemed to find Rose as perfect as Scorpius had.Need her. Love her. Want her, it sighed.
Relax. I've got this, Scorpius answered it, concerned it would push itself too much and tire them both out.
Despite the days of rest since its 'birth', his other-half was still very weak, which impacted Scorpius' own health. Every day brought improvement, but the thing had been utterly wiped out after its emergence. Still, Scorpius could feel its eagerness to have at its mate now. It was practically salivating in his head.
Keep calm and let me negotiate with her, he parlayed. This is going to be hard enough without her seeing you in your real form.
He'd had a single opportunity since his twenty-fifth birthday to see the creature he now shared his life with, and he had to admit, it was just alien enough to probably scare Rose to death: huge bird wings, shadowed facial features with glowing silver eyes, longer hair, and sharp fangs… it would be enough to send any girl screaming for the hills. He'd never convince Rose to willingly accept him if he approached her looking like a monster.
Inside his head, his Veela snarled at him for thinking such a thing.
Sorry, but you know it's true, he apologised, but trying to explain. It's going to infuriate her just to know she's going to be forced to marry me or face Ministry law. She's not going to take that part well, much less that there are two of us in here, one of whom is a male Veela who intends to impregnate her the minute he can. Hell, I'd be surprised if she knows much more than what we learned in school about your kind. From her perspective, you appear human, but you're a completely different species, like a Merperson or a Goblin. That's going to spook her even worse. We've got to approach this carefully if we want to win her over.
His Veela gave a tired, resigned sigh.
Fine. Talk to her. Just don't bollocks it up.
He shut up then, exhausted from just that little bit of effort, but he was still watching and listening… and sulking at what Scorpius had said.
Redirecting his attention outwards once more, Scorpius focussed on Rose as she drew closer. She truly was beautiful, from the tips of her toes to her nose, and from the way she walked to the sound of her laughter, which carried across the distance. It seemed the cosmos had chosen right for him, much to his surprise. He felt his heart trip over itself in his chest as she turned her head in his direction…
…and nearly lost his breakfast right there on the table as her smile dropped and a glower overtook her features as their gazes connected.
Clearly, nothing had changed for her.
"Lovely," his father murmured in frank appreciation, his voice slightly trembling as he watched the two women approach.
Scorpius sighed. "Yeah, but still a bitch," he growled under his breath.
His father ignored him, his gaze locked on their guests. Scorpius noted the man's attention was particularly fixated on Rose's mother and paused to appraise his dad's tastes.
For a woman in her early-fifties, Hermione Weasley looked to be a full decade younger. Despite her age, there was not a grey to be seen in her hair, and any wrinkles she might have had were well-hidden beneath tasteful make-up. The woman had clearly taken care of her appearance, and it was obvious where Rose had acquired her good looks.
In their features, she and her daughter were very similar. The exceptions were Mrs. Weasley's hair, which was a cool cocoa colour (Rose's was a vibrant auburn), and her eyes were the deep cider brown of autumn leaves (while her daughter's eyes were the same shade of blue as a warm Caribbean sea). Aside from that, however, the two ladies could pass for cousins, rather than a mother-daughter team.
Dryly, Scorpius figured that if Rose continued to take after her mum as she got on in years… well, at least he would still want to fuck his mate when she'd hit middle age. If they didn't kill each other before then.
Rising from his seat to greet their appointment with impeccable manners, Draco lightly kicked his son under the table to do likewise. Scorpius reluctantly made it to his feet, facing off against his destiny with dread in his chest, but his chin held high.
Despite the laws written in the favour of a Veela's mating suit, Scorpius well understood that he'd still need to win his woman's affections. The alternative was a lifetime of cold shoulders, curses, and screaming matches, punctuated by brief interludes of angry sex which would leave them both feeling used and disappointed in the afters. As he didn't particularly want a wife who detested his touch, or children who were raised knowing their parents hated each other to the marrow, he had to try to get her to see him as he was now, not as he'd been in their youth.
He prayed for lightning to pass through the roof of the fancy Tea Shoppe and strike him dead right then, for that would surely be less painful to endure than what he was about to attempt.
Before Scorpius could say a word in greeting, his father stepped forward without preamble and executed the slyest, smoothest move Scorpius had ever seen played: he gently took Mrs. Weasley's hand in his and, instead of shaking as she'd offered he bowed low over the knuckles, presenting them with a polite kiss. As he straightened, he gave the woman his most melting smile.
"Thank you for agreeing to come and discuss this delicate situation with us, Hermione."
A shy smile lit up Rose's mother's face and she blushed like a young girl. "As I said in my letter, I understand how important this meeting is to both our families." She appraised him with a sweeping glance. "It's been a long time, Draco. You look smashing."
His father stepped closer, continuing to hold onto the woman's hand. "As do you. I've always thought periwinkle blue a fetching colour on you."
Floored that his father was unmistakably flirting—and no less with the mother of his mate—Scorpius' jaw dropped open.
"Technically, the suit is Corsican purple," Mrs. Weasley replied, her voice a bit breathy.
The hint of a smile played about Draco's lips. "It's lovely on you."
Hermione took a step forward this time, narrowing the distance between her and Scorpius' dad until there were bare inches separating them. "Thank you. It's nice you remembered my favourite colour."
"I could never forget anything about you."
And then the two old "enemies" shut their mouths and just stared at each other like the answer to every mystery was to be found in the other's eyes.
Well, clearly they knew each other in a much more intimate manner than Scorpius could have ever guessed. When was that though, and why had that changed?
Shit. Tell me this isn't happening, he thought, feeling sweat begin to bead upon his brow. What the hell was going on? This wasn't why he'd come here today! He'd come to gently explain things to Rose, with the hope that he could court her properly before mating her. This, though… this was a fucking disaster! His father and her mother were– Oh, Merlin on a cross! Rose was going to have his balls for dinner!
He shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them again, he would find Rose and her mum still walking towards them and that the last several minutes had all just been some nightmare fantasy he'd concocted in his stressed out, too tired brain…
He peeked through his lashes. Nope. No such luck. His dad and Rose's mother were still eye-fucking each other.
Shit, this was like that one time at the end of his seventh year, in the days after N.E.W.T.s had finished, but before the official end of the term, when Holly and Shannon Finnigan slipped Amortentia into Marshall Macmillan's drink. The poor guy had proclaimed ever-lasting love for the twins, promising to serve their every need on bended knee. He'd looked at them in much the same manner that his dad was looking at Rose's mum.
There was an intense, awkward minute or so where no one spoke, and then Scorpius turned his head and traded a silent look with Rose that said she was just as astonished as he over this turn of events. As their eyes connected, Scorpius suddenly realised that now was an excellent opportunity to make a good impression on his mate. He cleared his throat and, taking his cue from his dad's earlier conduct, stepped up to the task of wooing his mate. He bowed from the waist in greeting. "Thank you for coming to meet me today, Rose. I appreciate this chance to talk."
The odd second of shared understanding between them was suddenly lost as Rose's frown returned and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Can the chivalrous host act, Malfoy, and just tell me what this is all about. Why was I made to dress up and dragged to Hogsmeade today? I'm missing Quidditch practice for this meeting, because you claimed was of the utmost urgency."
Scorpius scowled, his hackles rising in automatic defence. "So rude, Weasley. Where are your manners?"
Torn from their contemplation of each other by the sounds of their children already fighting, Hermione removed her hand from Scorpius' father's and turned to her daughter, pinching her arm. Rose yelped and pulled away. "You were asked here today because what Scorpius has to tell you concerns your future," the woman explained to her daughter. With a fierce expression on her face, Mrs. Weasley put her hands on her hips, her expression brooking no back-talk. "At least attempt to be polite, Rose."
Abashed, the younger Weasley's cheeks burned a crimson colour to match her hair. Her jaw clenched, but she seemed mollified for the moment. "Yes, m'am."
Choking back the resentment and disappointment burning through his chest, Scorpius held out a seat for Rose and tucked her into the table. Taking a seat across from her, he watched his father do the same for Mrs. Weasley (although with infinitely more patience and affection to the movements), and then spent precious seconds measuring up his intended as she pointedly ignored his staring.
Alright, so it was true that Rose had indeed blossomed into a succulent thing on an amazing set of legs, and yes, she smelled incredible enough to eat; her perfume–a spicy vanilla with notes of amber and musk–made his mouth water. And okay, her body was a thing of art he wanted to reveal a piece at a time and then sit back and admire. His gaze dipped to her cleavage. Were her nipples rose-coloured, like her name? He was betting they were.
Shit, the Veela lust for his mate was clearly kicking-in. He knew it would only intensify if he actually touched her, so he made a mental note not to do so, not even to shake her hand, not wanting to become a slave to her before he had a chance to similarly entice her.
"Is that acceptable to you, son?" his father asked him, drawing him out of his thoughts. A member of the wait staff stood by their table looking at him for her cue.
Not wanting to admit he'd been caught not paying attention, Scorpius shrugged. "Fine."
The nippy went away with their order, and there was another of those uncomfortable pauses in the conversation.
"Perhaps now would be appropriate timing to discuss why you requested this meeting?" Rose appealed, breaking the silence. There was a definite bite to her tone and her eyes were positively glacial as she glared across the table at her 'date'.
Scorpius traded a look with his father, who simply nodded for him to take the reins. This was, after all, his show. With a deep breath, he launched into the well-rehearsed speech he'd prepared in advance of the meeting.
"Rose, I realize it's been years since we last talked–"
Rose laughed. It was a bitter sound. "We've never talked, Malfoy. As I recall, any time we traded words you generally insulted and degraded me, and I fought back."
Incredulous, Scorpius fired back, "You have a convenient memory, then! As I remember it, you did your fair share of slighting me at almost every occasion, too. The offensive notes passing back and forth – that started with you, first year Potions class."
He'd expected her to deny it. She didn't.
"Regardless, we've still never talked. Yelled, shouted, upset, tripped, knocked over, loomed menacingly, frightened, spit at, hexed, sneered, scowled, laughed at derisively, unsettled, and affronted are more correct adjectives to address the actions between us, Scorpius, so stop pretending that we have ever, in any fashion, been civil to each other long enough to simply talk."
His mind grabbed onto one glaring error in her diatribe and went with it. "I have never spit at you, Weasley. It was just the opposite, in fact – fourth year, you got me square on the cheek."
"After you called me an ugly, frizzy-headed cow," she retorted.
"After you hexed my favourite quill to only write, 'I like to lick dragon balls'," he replied, rearing for a full-on row now. He was suddenly fifteen all over again, and feeling the acute sting of Rose's sharp tongue. Every defence was up, and every good intention he'd come into today's meeting with disappeared from his mind. If she wanted a fight, by the Founders, he'd give her one! "I had to toss the bloody thing and buy a new one! Do you know how difficult and expensive it is to get an Occamy-feather quill? By the way, you forgot to add to your list: screamed, shrieked, roared, hollered, bellowed, tricked, confused, disconcerted, unsettled, jinxed, demoralized, sniggered at, smacked, kicked, and pinched. Those were some of your best moves, after all."
Somewhere in the middle of his rant, a sparkle took up residence in Rose's eye. Now he and she were back in their 'comfort zone' – hurling insults at each other… and clearly, she was getting off on it. "Well, we can definitely cross-off buying you a thesaurus for your birthday," she snarked. "Seems your education paid off, Malfoy. Your family would be proud."
"I am," his father finally spoke up, a barely concealed grin plastered to his handsome features. He traded a look with Mrs. Weasley. "And I had trouble believing him when he called your daughter a spit-fire."
Rose's mother chuckled. "It comes from her father's side, I'm sure."
Scorpius' dad's snickered. "Oh, of course, Granger. She doesn't at all take after you, not in looks or in temperament."
Granger?
Thanks to the gossip rags, Scorpius knew Hermione and Ronald Weasley had divorced several years prior, but he hadn't been aware she'd retaken her maiden name. Or perhaps his father was just used to referring to the woman in such a manner from their school days?
He looked at the way his dad was watching Rose's mum. The spark of life had rekindled in the old man. And it seemed Hermione was equally as fascinated. Well, at least one of them might get lucky with a Weasley in this lifetime.
Ignoring the disappointment in his gut for his own circumstances and how badly they seemed to be going, Scorpius turned back to Rose and tried to get them back to his original point, before their argument. "In any case, things are different now. It's been seven years, and we're not children anymore. People change."
A skeptical laugh erupted from his mate's pretty, rouged mouth. "Some things will never change, Malfoy."
"Meaning?"
Rose's features hardened. "Meaning, there are some universal truths you can't ignore no matter how polite you pretend to be for a day."
"For example?" he prompted, curious as to the inner workings of her mind.
Folding her hands in her lap, his mate looked at him as if he were an errant seven-year-old who'd been caught being naughty. "For example: if the papers are to be believed, you're still an unapologetic player. According to them, you change your girlfriends as frequently you change your socks, and have casually left a line of broken hearts behind you. As I recall, you did the same thing back in school. You have always treated women like disposable items, Malfoy, showing them little-to-no respect."
Well, that wasn't a very fair analogy, Scorpius thought. He was a good-looking, young bachelor with a title and wealth behind him. Women used him with equal abandon, if only to get their five minutes of fame as his date, or to get him to spend money on their whims. Why should he be punished for enjoying the offerings presented to him under such false pretence? His relationships with those women were mutual understandings of use, as far as he was concerned.
Just as he opened his mouth to reply, she hit him with her second volley.
"There's also the fact that you don't take anything seriously enough to apply yourself to it with any true devotion, aside from drinking like a fish and the aforementioned sport of women-dodging. You still don't have a job, according to The Tattling Witch, nor do you aspire to be anything more than an irresponsible, spoiled rich boy living off your family's wealth - just as you had at seventeen when you'd engaged in marathon House-crawling any night of the week with that slouch, Zabini."
She had him there. Scorpius had always been somewhat lackadaisical about life, but that was only because he'd known from the time he'd been in nappies what his future would hold for him: a Veela to share his life with, a mate at his side, children to play at his feet, and to someday inherit the family fortune. He was a Malfoy, and the patriarch of his family was charged with running the familial empire, investing their vast wealth with the intention of doubling it before eventually passing the responsibility on to his son. It had been that way forever. It wasn't like he was free to aspire to do anything else!
His take-over was another seventy-five years off into the future – only after Lucius passed and his father retired. In the meantime, what was a long-lived wizard to do other than enjoy his days and take advantage of the trappings of his family's wealth?
Rose mercilessly continued her damning, "Top Ten Reasons To Hate Scorpius Malfoy" list, and he had to wonder how long the girl had been deliberating over him to have come up with such a well-considered inventory of his faults.
Ten tiresome minutes later, she finally seemed to be winding down.
"And lastly, there's the fact that your mouth is still as sharp and antagonistic as when we were kids. You bark vicious, Malfoy. Clearly, you've never learned to reign in that temper of yours." She sniffed in disapproval, turning that pointed little nose of hers up into the air. "Oh, and for the record, you're not half the man your cousin is."
That did it! She could poke at him for being lazy, for appreciating a good pub crawl more than was socially acceptable, and for his enjoyment of extreme variety in his bedroom, but comparing him to the 'Golden Boy', Corwin-? Now she'd stepped over the line!
He stood up, throwing his napkin down on the table in disgust. "You want to know why my temper's always been so short around you, Weasley? Because you're a vicious harpy who could nag a groom into his grave before the honeymoon even began! My ears are still ringing and you stopped talking two minutes ago! Hell, I bet if I gave you a full hour to whinge on, I'd be lucky to get my hearing back before the next ice age!" He leaned forward over the table, pressing his palms flat against the surface for support and stared Rose down. "And talking about a waste of my precious time: do you realise you just spent more time insulting me than it took me to masturbate this morning?"
His father and Mrs. Weasley both gasped, looking horrified by his foul mouth.
"Scorpius, enough," Draco growled, clearly embarrassed by his son's uncivilised behaviour.
But this clash between Scorpius and Rose had been inevitable and, like a boulder at the top of a hill given a nudge, was now an unstoppable force. They'd had no real closure the last time they'd seen each other, and in the years that had followed, clearly they'd both been thinking about the other and all the things left unsaid between them. Well, Scorpius was on a roll now and it was his turn to talk, so it was full steam ahead and to hell with the consequences.
"Feel better now that you've finally gotten all that crike off your chest, Rose? How many years have you been toting that speech around in your head? Since graduation? Before then? I bet it was something you've been rehearsing for a long time. Obsessed with me, much?"
Apparently, there was some truth in his accusation as Rose remained silent in the face of it. Her scarlet and blotchy cheeks, however, told him everything he needed to know.
"You've got some nerve being shirty with me, lady, you know that?" he continued, relentless. "Yeah, so I've got some flaws. Well, here's a news flash for you, prissy: you do, too! You're just as foul-tempered as I am, and your vicious streak has always been a mile wider than anyone else's I've ever known. And for the record, you're the one picking the fight this time, not me. I came here today to put our bad past to rest and move forward." He pushed off the table and slumped backwards into his chair, disappointed and a little depressed at the bad turn the conversation had taken. "Maybe you're right, though, and we can't start over. Maybe we did and said too much back then when we were kids, and there's no taking back that kind of cruelty. Hell, maybe some people just don't deserve a second chance."
He clamped his mouth then, frustrated and unsure as to what to do next. This wasn't simply a situation he could walk away from, no matter his despondency, and he knew it. For him, the only option without Rose was death; he had to mate her. Yet, how could he hope to build a new relationship with her when their old one was so bollocksed up? Rose wasn't even receptive to talking to him, much less letting him bond her life and magic to his!
The only response from everyone at the table to his angry, sarcastic tirade was merely to glare at him. Scorpius scowled, bitterly resentful that he'd been put in this situation at all. Why had the magic chosen Rose again? Maybe he should just give it all up and try to find a way to survive without taking a mate. It might be possible, right? Someone must have done it at least once.
As if they'd choreographed the move, Draco and Hermione simultaneously turned to their children and began whispering in their ears.
"Well, at least you've cleared the air," his dad murmured to him, "although your closing argument needs work. It's entirely too discouraging."
Scorpius snorted. "You think?"
"Mmm. I'd suggest next time you don't leave things on such a low note. Try something more upbeat, like 'But if anyone deserves a second chance, Rose, it's us.' See? A much more positive declaration as to your long-term intentions for her – and it could segue into negotiating what comes next."
"I doubt she thinks anything about me charming enough for that to work," he replied, rolling his eyes.
His father nudged him with an elbow. "You're giving up too easily, my son. Nothing worth having is ever effortless."
"What's effortless?" Hermione asked, her pep talk with Rose apparently already over.
Proving that no true Slytherin ever lost his touch, no matter the years since his sorting, his father gave Mrs. Weasley a mischievous smile and smoothly replied, "Why, enjoying the pleasure of your company, of course."
Rose lifted an eyebrow at that. "Slick," she complimented Scorpius' dad.
"Years of practice," his father replied with a grin.
Just like that, something inside Scorpius switched over. He flushed hot, then cold, then hot again as irrational jealousy burned straight through his guts. "Shall I book you two a room at The Three Broomsticks, then? I hear they have great rates by the hour."
Three sets of jaws dropped in shock, and the table went silent.
"Hell, I'm… Damn, I need some air." He scooted his chair back and stood up. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Mrs. Weasley, dad. Rose… see you."
With that, he walked out, feeling foolish for having ever lusted after a woman who had always been out of his league, and for that small part of him that had really wanted this to work out.
You can't leave, his Veela weakly snapped at him. Go back.
"No," he murmured, half to himself, half to his bestial side. Not like this. We're both too angry. All that's going to happen is violence if we're in the same room together right now.
His Veela snarled at him. You will not hurt my mate, boy – never again.
Seeking a secluded spot to stop for a moment so he could have this conversation in private, Scorpius took a right down a narrow alley between buildings. He stopped half-way in and leaned against one of the brick walls.
It's not me hurting her that we should worry about. I'm not the one with the hefty vocabulary, the accurate wand aim, and a vicious right hook. And she's our mate, Veela, not just yours. He glanced up into the jewel-blue sky peeking between the gables of the roofs and sighed. Man, she really handed me my arse back there. Shite, it's like she's been carrying around that anger for a long time.
His Veela was oddly silent at that.
I thought, maybe… There was this one time, back in sixth year, just before the Yule Ball… She looked at me across the dining hall with that challenging look – you know the one I mean? It was just after the dance had been announced, and I thought she was trying to tell me I should ask her to go. I wanted to. I did. I just… couldn't work up the nerve. I was afraid she'd laugh in my face. He looked down at his polished, Italian leather shoes, feeling shame and regret twisting his insides. Corwin didn't have the same problem, bloody wanker.
He recalled that night with crystal clarity: Rose appearing on his cousin's arm, looking beautiful despite her unattractive glasses and her closed-mouth smile. She'd worn a dark green gown with dainty, teardrop diamonds in her ears, and for the first time, she'd properly done up her hair. She'd been a vision, and Scorpius had spent all evening sneaking glances at her when no one was paying attention. When he'd lost his virginity to Charmita Patil that same night in his dorm bed, he'd closed his eyes and imagined his partner was Rose.
Now he had to wonder: had Rose lost her virginity at the same time, her innocent body splayed out over Ravenclaw blue sheets (or had they been his cousin's Gryffindor red blankets)?
The thought made him want to go find Corwin wherever he was right then, and pummel the guy the death, regardless of the truth of the matter. That he'd taken Rose on a date and had been able to dance with her had been enough to hate him.
Seeing green and clinging to his anger (which was infinitely better than acting like a depressed pussy, he'd decided), Scorpius stomped back down the street, heading for The Hogs Head with the single-minded goal of getting nice and plastered that afternoon. Maybe he'd even pass out and get tossed into the gutter by Four-Fingered Finnigan, the war hero-slash-proprietor of the place, who was famous for having had the pinky finger of his right hand cut off by a Severing Charm in the final battle of the war.
Inside his head, his Veela was asleep again, worn out from their discussion. He could feel its discontent with him even in its slumber, though. No doubt it would make him pay the moment it woke up for not having immediately returned to the Tea Shoppe.
Fuck it. He'd deal with his 'other half' later.
From the corner of his eye, he spied a bright, red sign in the front window of Spintwitches and stopped to read it. Apparently, they were having a sale on Quidditch buffing kits. Well, he could certainly do with having his "broom" "polished" just then. Maybe it would help to alleviate some of this tension he'd been carrying around since finding out who his mate was destined to be…
As if summoned, his on-again, off-again friend-with-benefits, Eleri Nott, found him in that exact moment. "Hello, Scorpius," the pretty, dark-haired brunette greeted him as she stood at his side, looking into the front window and feigning interest in the sale as well.
His association with Eleri had always been one of convenience and privacy; neither of them had wanted to broadcast to the world that they'd been secretly doing the horizontal sweat-swim since Valentine's night, sixth year (after things with him and Patil had fizzled out). Scorpius' reasons were selfish, but justifiable: he didn't want Rose, the girl he'd secretly fancied, knowing he was shagging her best friend. That had been just fine by Eleri, though, who hadn't wanted Rose (or anyone else, really) to know about her and Scorpius either, as she'd rather liked being a free agent. Like most daughters of pureblood rank, she tended to keep her options open in that regard. So, for the last nine years, they'd had the perfect relationship: no emotional ties, just brilliant fucking.
Now, however, everything had changed. Today, he had a mate–
–Who hated his everlasting soul, and would gladly see him run over several dozen times by fast-moving Muggle cars.
"Hi, El," he returned, calling her by the pet name she'd allowed since childhood. "I'm not the best company right now. Kind of in a bad place, if you get me," he warned.
She hummed in consideration, clasped her hands behind her back innocently, and leaned forward to appear interested in the window display. "Need to take your mind off it for a few hours?"
Scorpius considered the proposal, knowing exactly what she was intimating. Maybe it would do him some good to work off all of this frustration.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Accio or Point Me?" she asked nonchalantly.
That was their code for choosing a "safe" location to engage in their extracurricular activities that they'd adopted back when they'd first started having sex. "Accio" meant she would take him to her dormitory, "Point Me" meant he'd take her to his. Now, of course, it referred to her flat outside London and his bedroom at Malfoy Manor.
"Accio," he firmly decided, not wanting to run into his father any time soon. He knew the man would stay with the Weasley women for another hour at least, as propriety required, but then he'd head home. Scorpius didn't plan on being anywhere near that ground zero until tomorrow, at least.
Eleri nodded. "Sounds like fun." She tapped him on the shoulder in a friendly 'I'm off!' manner. "See you, Malfoy."
He nodded, and moved off in the opposite direction, feeling a bit like his old Slytherin self again.
Fifteen minutes later, he had Eleri pinned against the wall of her flat, and he was shoving his fingers into her warm pussy. Their clothes were only half-off, before she was casting the Contraceptive Spell to prevent pregnancy, and then they were stumbling to the sofa. It didn't take long, as they were both frantic for release. A few thrusts, the feel of her walls fluttering around him, her cry of ecstasy in his ear, and he was suddenly shooting his hot jizz into her with a groan.
In the aftermath, he lay panting, staring up at El's too white ceiling, and cursed silently in his head. Instead of blowing his mind, that climax had been completely unsatisfying – as tame and uninspiring as unsalted butter.
His father had tried to warn him just that morning not to think he could find fulfillment in any other woman now that he knew the identity of his intended Veela mate. He'd been advised by his grandfather as well that his whoring days were done and to cut loose any females who might be clinging to the hope of someday becoming Mrs. Scorpius Malfoy. He'd thought the two men had been exaggerating. It seemed not.
When his current bed partner quietly asked him what was wrong, Scorpius opened his mouth… and out tumbled all his secrets in a very un-Slytherin moment of weakness. All the years of pent-up feelings for Rose, of being part-Veela and the fear and uncertainty that had come with that knowledge, of his transformation, and of being thwarted at the Tea Shoppe earlier found a sounding-board in Eleri Nott.
When he was finished, Scorpius felt emotionally wrung out, like he'd just experienced some sort of at-the-crossroads emergency Mind Healing session. He also felt strangely lighter getting that tax off his chest, as if a massive load had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe there was something to the whole, 'talk it out' movement after all.
Eleri was quiet for a long time after he'd stopped talking, he noticed. Turning his head to find out why, he noted the way she bit her bottom lip and the cunning, serpentine glimmer in her indigo-coloured eyes. Clearly, she was preparing to scheme again.
"Your problem with Rose is simple, Scor," she explained very matter-of-factly, sitting up. "She sees you for the boy you were back then, not the man you are today. If you want to win her, you're going to have to change that impression. BUT, because of her incredible stubbornness, in order to just get that chance with her, you'll need to do what any Slytherin does best: manipulate the situation."
"I'm not following you," he admitted. Sometimes, Eleri's mind worked in ways mysterious to even other women.
She sighed and rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Look, we all know you're motivated by an extreme case of self-interest, lover boy. That fact was firmly in place the day you were born and hasn't really changed over the years. But that's not the kind of bloke Rose is attracted to. She wants someone strong, caring, as bold as a lion, a tad romantic, and self-sacrificing."
"She's told you this?" he asked.
"Don't be dense, Scorpius. It doesn't suit you," El dryly stated. "She doesn't need to say such things out loud. You only need to look at the one man in her life she respects and holds on a pedestal: her father. The man was a Gryffindor war hero who helped defeat the darkest wizard in history and then rode off into the sunset with his best school sweetheart. That's the kind of fellow Rose wants to fall head-over-heels in love with. That's the kind of man you have to become."
Scorpius considered that for a long few minutes in silence.
"I have absolutely no idea how to do that."
Eleri slapped him upside his head. "Quit channeling your father or grandfather, Scor. You've always been more like your mother deep down. You might have been trained to be Slytherin, and were placed in that House by tradition by that sodding Sorting Hat, but you and I both know you're not ambitious, cruel, or deceitful enough to be Slytherin. You really belonged in Hufflepuff, same as your mum."
At any other time, Scorpius might have taken offence to Eleri's less-than-gentle assessment of his character, but today he felt like she had hit the nail on the head. He could bite when provoked, but in general, he didn't make scheming his second hobby, after sleeping, like El did.
"You think I should be more honest with her."
Eleri nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Be honest about your feelings for her – once you trap her long enough to sit still and listen, that is."
Trap her…
Scorpius' dad had mentioned some of the many perks that came with 'owning' a conscious Veela. One of those was dream walking. Apparently, Veela magic didn't just provoke a physical attraction by the mate, but an emotional and mental one as well. Scorpius wasn't clear on how such a thing was accomplished, but one thing he had understood from reading the diaries of his ancestors before him (books preserved in the Malfoy library) was that being able to enter a mate's mind while they slept or were unconscious was a magic Veela took advantage of to assure their mates were safe when they were far away from them, like on travel. Sometimes, it had even been used to seduce a mate who hadn't yet been claimed.
If he could trap Rose in a dream, confront her there and explain everything to her, then maybe he could make her understand and come to accept their situation. Perhaps he could even use the dreams to get her comfortable enough to start talking to him, rather than fighting with him – to build a friendship, and to get their second chance.
"I'd hurry if I were you, though," Eleri interrupted his planning. "You've got some major competition in your cousin again."
Scorpius' heart thumped hard behind his ribs. "What do you mean?"
"Last weekend, she bumped into Corwin at a dance club. They left together, and from what I heard from Albus, who heard it from Louis, who heard it from Lorcan and Lysander, Corwin didn't come up for air until Monday morning. I can tell you for a fact that Rose didn't surface until then either."
"Son of a–" He expelled a deep breath and slammed his hand down on the mattress. It felt as if someone had just kicked his favourite hippogriff. "Shite! That bastard had his paws on my woman – again!"
Eleri nodded. "Seems the former Prince of Gryffindor got his hands on the Crown Jewels. Still, you were the unequivocal King of Slytherin in our day. I'd say that trumps his royal 'we' any day of the week."
Yeah, he had been, hadn't he? He might not have been an ideal example of Slytherin ruthlessness during his time in school, but he'd more than earned the respect of his fellow classmates – excepting Rose, that is. Even Albus, her cousin (the 'black sheep' of her family and the only one sorted Slytherin of the bunch, but that was beside the point), had deferred to Scorpius. He still had a few tricks up his sleeve he could employ to recapture Rose's attention.
"And with Rose's bestie on my side, how can I fail?" he asked, slyly casting Eleri a glance out of the corner of his eye. "You think that for the price of half my stock in her favourite sorbet manufacturer, she could be persuaded to help me woo my mate?"
His lover stared at him in silence for a moment, considering his offer. Then, with a tight smile, she reached for his cock, stroking it into prominence. "For such a trade, plus the cost of continuing to warm your bed until you actually do mate Rose, I believe she absolutely could," she agreed. "After all, she'd be helping two of her closest friends find happiness together, and who doesn't like a happily ever after?"
"Right. Deal, then."
Reaching out, Scorpius fisted a hand through Eleri's silky, dark hair and lowered her head onto his length until she took him down her throat. As she sucked him off, he closed his eyes and like every time he had sex, he pretended his partner was Rose.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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