Chapter Eighteen

...

5th April

The Hogwarts' Grounds

06oo hours

...

Rose's body was screaming at her, but she ignored it and pushed her legs to go faster. The wind blowing in her face was cold and damp, the early morning mist coming off the lake, and it chapped her lips, scraped at her cheeks, made her eyes water, but she didn't care. Her thighs were burning as she climbed steadily, feeling the path beneath her feet, the early morning sunshine on the back of her head, and her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. In the distance, about half a kilometre onwards, she could see Alex and Tommy jogging slowly towards her, but she ignored them, revelling in the freedom her body allowed her.

Going this fast almost felt like flying.

But even the speed, even her lightness of breath and tightness of chest was not enough to stop treacherous thoughts filling her mind.

The morning of Valentine's day, the day after Albus's party, she had awoken in Scorpius's bed with a pounding head and bile in her throat. She'd managed to stumble to the bathroom where, with the help of cold water and a toothbrush, she'd become marginally more human, scraping the make-up from around her eyes and forcing her unruly curls back into some semblance of order. Back in the boy's dormitory, she padded across the room and collapsed back onto Scorpius's bed, closing her eyes to shield them from the brightness leaking around the heavy curtains.

The bed felt cold, and when she shifted she realised she was alone.

Mack always kept a supply of hangover potions in the cupboard by his bed, and she had raided them, finding a vial standing behind a bunch of PlayWitch magazines. It was a dubious claim to fame, and much less wildly infamous than his tight abs and general physique, but Rose had once seen her ex boyfriend brew the potion when he was so drunk he couldn't stand up. A useful talent.

Her mental faculties restored, she had glanced at the clock and, seeing that it was only quarter past four, around the room. Scorpius was lying on the floor next to his bed, a blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his head resting on his arm. He had looked so peaceful, with the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders, the small smile on his lips as though his dreams were happy, that Rose hadn't had the heart to wake him, instead tiptoeing to the door and letting herself out.

Over the course of the next few days, that night had come back to her. Incrementally at first, and then those words and his silence. Best to pretend it never happened. Best to forget she had ever said anything.

She'd avoided Scorpius at first, and of course he noticed. And when he'd finally called her on her dragon shit, she'd thrown it back in his face, her shame and fear of rejection making her sharp and cold.

The ensuing fight had been borne of uncertainty, and partly of obstinacy, for Rose was far too proud to admit she was in love with someone who did not love her back. With Mack, she reasoned, there had never been more than a superficial passing interest, an attraction skin deep, so it hadn't mattered about opening up to be hurt. With Scorpius, so much more was at stake, and in her muddled mind it seemed better to fight now, and be friends again later, than potentially lose him forever.

She missed him more than anything. It was only that the guy she fancied wasn't speaking to her, it was that she had lost her best friend. It was almost as though one of her limbs was missing, a physical reaction to what her own uncertainties had cost her.

So now, three weeks later, she forced herself to train harder, to run faster, to work out longer, in some misguided attempt to fill the void that was Scorpius in her life.

But it hadn't worked.

...

The Charms Classroom

11oo hours

...

'Prior Incantato. A peculiar spell that forces the receiver's wand to- Miss Weasley?'

'Prior Incantato, also known as the reverse spell, causes the receiver's wand to regurgitate a ghost of spells cast in reverse chronological order from the point of time in which the charm is cast. Typically used by lawyers in a court of law to prove the casting of a specific incantation.' Rose reeled off, not looking up.

'Very good.' Professor Harping said, and tapped the blackboard where Rose's words were scribbling themselves down. 'Furthermore-'

'Furthermore', Rose said, still focusing on her piece of parchment and the moving diagram there, 'There is a rare manifestation of this charm, Priori Incantatem, which only forms as a consequent of two identical wand cores attacking the other, leading the stronger caster to force the lesser to produce the echo of spells past.'

'Indeed.' Professor Harping said dryly. 'And as you seem to know all about this subject, despite the fact you are not paying attention to a word I say, perhaps you would like to come up to the board and teach the lesson for me.'

Professor Harping was famously sarcastic, not to mention a stickler for manners. He enjoyed the public humiliation of the students who tried to sass him in class, and took an almost sadistic pleasure in picking on students who he thought wasn't paying attention. Compared to the mild-mannered, universally adored Professor Flitwick who had retired at the end of Rose's fourth year, Professor Harping was wildly disliked by the majority of the school.

Rose finally looked up from the diagram she was sketching. 'No thank you.'

Professor Harping turned an interesting shade of puce. 'Weasley! Up here now.'

Rose, whose temper was already a little frayed from her furious, and much longer than usual, training session that morning, coupled with the fact that now she was fighting with Scorpius she was finding it hard to sleep, closed her eyes. Muttering a silent prayer to Merlin for patience, she unfolded her long legs and stood up, walking up to the blackboard.

Five Outstanding N.E.W.T.s, that was the deal she had made with her mother and Professor Marchling. Five Outstandings that she could achieve with minimal efforts, and very little time. Rose might not enjoy studying like her mother had done, but she absorbed information like the proverbial sponge and had an excellent memory. Such a combination drove most of the professors mad, until, as Professor Marchling had done, they finally accepted that Rose was never going to change and gave up trying to force her to become an academic. Harping though, he had yet to accept this fact.

'Now then Miss Weasley', he said silkily, taking a seat behind his desk and spreading his arms wide. 'Off you go.'

Rose rolled her eyes, wondering what was the best way to avoid detention that night as she had the quidditch pitch booked. If she simply stood there she would look weak and would probably be sent back to her desk with a detention for not paying attention. It was the sensible choice, bite her tongue, leave it well alone. But then she looked at Scorpius who was sat next to Albus in the front row, and something about his face goaded her into speech.

'Very well Professor, I will.' Rose picked up her wand and the piece of chalk flew into the air, beginning to sketch words onto the board behind her.

'Prior Incantato. Derivation: from the Latin meaning Former Enchantment, which is logical when you study the function of the charm. Of course it is a widely renowned enchantment, and if often used to prove either the innocence or guilt of a third party member as afore mentioned.'

Oddly enough, some members of the class were beginning to take notes. Rose swallowed a smile of triumph as the colour in Professor Harping's face heightened.

'The most famous example of this enchantment in living history is that between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle Junior, also known as Voldemort, the night of his second return to power, but there are many other examples throughout history which can be found in the next chapter of your textbooks.'

She flicked her wand and the enchantment written on the board split into three sections.

'Now, history and derivation aside, if we look at the suffix affixed to the end of Priori we can see a distinct pattern forming with other time-based spells. If we accept Madam Polkin's theory of relative time continuum as true, then we see-'

'That will do Miss Weasley. Sit down.'

Rose returned to her seat, but could not stop a smug smile gracing her features. As she walked past the desk where Albus and Scorpius sat, Al winked at her, but Scorpius averted his eyes. The grin slipped from her mouth, and she sank into her seat next to Dinah feeling oddly deflated.

She spent the rest of the lesson staring out of the window, idly twisting her wand between her fingertips, but Professor Harping left her alone, perhaps sensing he could not win in open warfare. Instead he held her behind at the end of the lesson where he pontificated elaborately on his disappointment with her lack of focus and class participation.

Rose bore his tirade in disinterested silence, idly wondering when it would end so she could go and get lunch before all the good food was gone. But when he finally released her with a verbal warning, she found Mack waiting outside the classroom.

Surprised, she didn't immediately walk past him, stopping as he began to berated Harping for his unfair treatment of Rose.

'Well, it was hardly unfair', She reasoned logically. 'I never pay attention in his lessons.'

'He's still a sadistic bastard.' Mack retorted. 'Did you hear what he made those second years do when he caught them passing notes?'

'Didn't he make them stand in buckets for the rest of the class?' Rose asked.

Mack snorted. 'I heard he made them scrub the floors with their toothbrushes.'

'That's hardly sanitary.'

It seemed so odd to be stood here with Mack after so many months of pointedly ignoring him. Over the last few months though, it had become too hard, not to mention boring, to keep icing him out. They moved in the same circles, they had the same friends. There were too few seventh years for one to be removed entirely without upsetting the balance of their year. And while Rose had not been what you could call effervescent with her affection, Mack had obviously thought the fact that she was acknowledging him again meant something else entirely.

'So Rose, how do you fancy coming to Hogsmeade with me next week?'

It was purely by chance that Rose looked up at the moment, and found there was a third member of their strange little party.

...

Scorpius had always been the one who was attentive in class, who took detailed notes, and never acted up. Rose used to be so lost in her quidditch schemes, or simply just bored with the whole fandango that she was constantly in trouble as a kid. As Rose grew older, and detentions began to cut into her training time, she stopped acting up, and the professors soon learnt to simply leave her alone.

He had no problem with Professor Harping, but then he was kind of a nerd, and enjoyed the class. Today however, he couldn't concentrate. Beside him, Albus was suppressing his laughter with difficulty, his shoulders shaking as Rose preceded to teach the lesson with far more detail than their Professor would have done. He however, did not see the funny side of things.

Never had he carried her so tenderly up to the dormitory and laid her in his bed to sleep. He'd reached out, smoothing her hair back from her freckled face with such warmth burning in his chest that he thought his face might break from smiling. The high; and then the comedown.

She remembered nothing, she would admit nothing, and it was that night in fifth year all over again. Was it any wonder he snapped? Her cold, sarcastic retorts, bourn of what? Fear? Uncertainty? Or worse - Indifference? All year he had wondered if her feelings had changed towards him. It was in the way she would touch him, even when she didn't seem to realise it. It was in the way a smile always came to her lips when he approached her. It was in a thousand minute moments that he now wondered if he'd imagined entirely.

Withdrawal was easiest. He couldn't remember a time when they'd fought as much as they'd fought this year. Years of friendship thrown away because of her obliviousness and his own feelings. It seemed easier to stay away.

...

'What about Susanne Walkers?' Rose asked slowly, avoiding his gaze.

'What about her?' Mack seemed unconcerned. 'She was just a girl at a party, these things happen. You know that-' he added pointedly. 'Seeing as how the whole school knows you and Malfoy hook up when you're drunk.'

'We do not-' Rose spluttered.

'I saw you guys hiding under the table at Al's party.' He retorted. 'Look I'm not going to judge you-'

'Oh! You're not going to judge me are you? That's bloody big of you!' Rose growled. 'The answer is no, Mack, and you'd best leave me alone before I start to get really mad. '

'Everyone vilifies me for what happened to Malfoy in the match, but suddenly I'm a hypocrite when I call you out on your shit?' Mack gestured emphatically, his eyes narrowing. 'The only reason you get away with the way you act is because everyone's too scared of you to say anything. Well news flash Sweetheart, but the world doesn't revolve around you!'

'You want to know the real reason why I don't hook up with Scorpius?' Rose spat back. 'It's because I care about him far too much to ever risk my friendship with him for the meaningless relationship we had. I don't want the world to revolve around me-'

'Sure you do', Mack retaliated. 'You're so arrogant, and you think you're better than anybody else. You obviously think you're too good to go out with me, you're too good to do anything more than play with your precious lapdog Malfoy-'

'Don't you dare talk about Scorpius like that!' Rose screamed, but Mack's tirade was ongoing.

'You're a bloody nightmare Rose, and you're going to end up alone because no-one can stand you!'

'Don't talk to her like that.'

A jumbled assortment of emotions flew through Rose as she watched Scorpius walking down the corridor towards them, his eyes flinty. Relief that he was there, discomfort at being found in such a position, then confusion and sadness as his eyes passed over her as though she was not even there.

'McClaggen, take your rejected sorry arse, and get out of here. You're not half the person Rose is, you're bitter and twisted. Rose might be a bloody nutcase, and the worse pain in the arse I've ever met-'

'Right here folks.' Rose muttered.

'But she's kind, and loyal, and she cares so much that she would sacrifice anything for me and our friends. You only care about yourself.'

Rose didn't hear Mack's retort, and barely registered him stomp off down the corridor. She was so touched by Scorpius's defence of her, even when he was angrily avoiding her, that she half expected that things had reverted back to how they were before their fight.

'Scorpius, I-'

'Save it', he muttered. 'I can't deal with you at the moment Rose.'

It was as though the hot air balloon of happiness inside her had got a puncture, slow leaking anxiety back into her insides.

'But-' She stammered. 'I thought- After you defended me-'

'Yeah?' He retorted, 'That's what best friends do Rose. You could have stabbed me in the back with a knife and I'd still defend you. This doesn't mean I like you very much at the moment though.'

...

It was always a competition among the first years who could make it from the last lesson of the day, on this particular Friday - Defence against the Dark Arts, down the moving staircases and into the Great Hall to snag the best of the dinner. Ruthie and Molly were among the few who chose to make a slower descent, chatting amiably as they let the rest of the class cavort off, full of weekend spirits.

They had just finished discussing the class, and had moved on to the far less academic topic of pumpkin pasties versus Fizzing Whizzbees when they heard a raised voice, then some shushing. Intrigued, Ruthie pulled Molly into an alcove as two seventh year boys appeared from behind a tapestry at the end of the corridor.

Peering out from behind the suit of armour, Molly and Ruthie watched as the two boys came into view and paused. The taller of the two, Ruthie recognised as the gorgeous Marco Ives, but she needed Molly's poke and whispered identification of the second boy.

Ives was looking uncommonly serious as Flint leant against the wall. His pose was casual, but the tenseness of his shoulders revealed a wariness his face did not.

'Just think about it', Flint was saying in a hushed voice. 'You will win the quidditch cup, not to mention the position with the Falcons, and we get to take Weasley down a peg or two which everyone will enjoy.'

'Weasley's all right.' Ives muttered.

'She's annoying', Flint grimaced. 'With her stupid rules and thinking she's the best quidditch player in the school.'

'She is the best quidditch player in the school.' Ives said fairly.

Flint scowled. 'Look- we're in a position to make all your aspirations come true. I don't think fifty galleons is too high a price for that.'

Ives' face was impassive. 'Spell it out for me, Flint. What exactly is it that you're proposing?'

'It's simple', Flint replied, 'You need to beat us by at least two hundred points to keep Gryffindor from having a hope of taking the cup. If we work together, we can make that happen...' He trailed off, arms opened expressively.

Ives' brow furrowed. 'You want Gryffindor to lose so badly, you're willing to sacrifice your own chances of winning? What's in it for you?'

'You're forgetting our fee. Fifty galleons is-'

'Fifty galleons is not worth one hundredth of what the Falcons are offering the winner of this competition .' Ives interrupted. 'What's really in it for you?'

'Personal gratification', Flint admitted. 'I was never going to win the competition, so now all I care about is making sure Gryffindor, and especially Weasley, doesn't win either.'

The level of animosity in Flint's voice surprised the watchers, both the acknowledged, and the two unseen. Ruthie let out a gasp and Molly clapped a hand over her friend's mouth.

'I know.' Molly mouthed. 'But shh.'

Ives said nothing, and as though the silence compelled him, Flint unwillingly continued.

'My father was never pleased that I wanted to play quidditch rather than join the family business. When I got my O.W.L.s, and they weren't as good as he wanted, he forbad me from playing any more quidditch after Hogwarts. He has considerable pull in the quidditch world, you know, and I knew no-one would ever consider trialling me after my father's smear campaign.

'So in a last ditch attempt, I wrote to Ginny Potter at the end of last year and she agreed to watch me fly, and to bring a scout with her. The scout was that buffoon Findley who's so taken with Weasley. Anyway, he told me that there was no way that the Falcons would ever consider taking me on, that I might as well just give up now.'

'Findley!' Ruthie gasped, and once again Molly flattened her hand over her friend's mouth.

'I know', she whispered back. 'Rosie said that Findley let slip that he knew aunt Ginny back in September.'

'And you know the worst part?' Flint was saying, his face contorted. 'Mrs Potter felt sorry for me. But I knew she was laughing at me really. As though the league would ever employ a Flint!'

The last word was said with a contempt that both first years recognised. It was the same way some people said 'Malfoy' or 'Goyle'. As though it was a dirty word, poisonous on the tongue.

'So you hate the family', Ives said. 'That doesn't explain why you're out to get Rose. Lily I could understand, she's Mrs Potter's daughter, but Rose is only her niece and there's millions of Weasleys besides her that you could take your anger out on.'

'Sainted Weasley', Flint sneered. 'So dedicated, so absorbed with quidditch. She doesn't see how her stinking rules ruin everybody else's lives.'

Ives looked perplexed. 'Her rules? But she only- oh.' Comprehension dawned on his face. 'Evelyn Wood.'

'We'd been dating on the quiet, but she kept going on and on about how bad she felt about betraying Rose's trust and breaking her no-dating other quidditch team members bull.'

There was sympathy on Ives' face as he watched the other boy, but it was short lived.

'So when Tabitha Higgs came to me', Flint continued, 'about her gambling problem, and how that rat, Hugo Weasley, who runs The Underground was asking about repayments I knew we could come up with a plan that was universally beneficial.'

'Don't call my star keeper a rat', Ives murmured absently.

'We were always going to lose.' Flint pressed. 'It's just a question of by how much that matters now. And then that's when we thought of helping out a fellow quidditch enthusiast.'

'And you thought of me.' Ives said, face completely blank.

Flint nodded. 'Do we have a deal?'

Ives' brow furrowed, and behind the suit of armour, Molly and Ruthie sucked in a breath, straining to hear every word.

'I have no beef with Rose', Ives said at last. 'But I won't deny that I want to win.'

Flint's smile slipped as he noticed the disgusted look on Ives' face.

'Go and find your cheat elsewhere, Flint. I'll win by my own merits, or not at all.' And so saying, he stomped off down the corridor. Just before he turned the corner, he stopped and look back.

'And for the record', he added, 'Rose is the best quidditch player in Hogwarts because she wants it so much that she's willing to do anything to achieve her dreams. She'd think it was the height of dishonour, to the sport, to the players, and also to herself, to even consider bribing and points shaving.'

Molly and Ruthie watched as Flint ran a hand over his face, then walked off in the opposite direction, before hopping out from their hiding place.

'Well.' Molly said, exhaling a breath.

'Right?' Ruthie replied. 'What should we do now?'

'We need to find Lucy.' Molly said firmly. 'She'll know what to do.'

...

The Quidditch Pitch

14oo hours

...

'That was a blatant display of cobbing, an outrageous foul against Hufflepuff from Mercury Bullstrode-'

'That was not a foul you twit', Jessica yelled back, her magically magnified voice breaking over Alfie Jordan's. 'Hufflepuff retain possession with nothing more than a busted nose-'

'That was completely a foul!' Alfie bellowed back. 'Are you really so stupid that you can't see what's happening in front of your long nose?'

'How dare you call me stupid in front of the entire school!' Jessica screamed back. 'You make flobberworms look intelligent!'

'And you couldn't catch a snitch if it flew up your sleeve!'

'It wasn't a foul!'

'It was so totally a foul!'

'If you think that was a foul then I want to break up!'

'Fine by me!'

Professor Marchling tugged the megaphone away from the now ex couple. 'Hufflepuff score! Hufflepuff lead seventy points to twenty.'

As cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff stands, the Gryffindor were quiet, watching the outcome of the match with baited breath. Never had a match their team were not playing excited such interest. The points factor was avidly recalculated every time either team scored.

Lucy had relayed every word overheard by her sister and Ruthie to Scorpius, while Molly had found their cousin herself. After much debating, some arguments, and several pointedly sharp comments, both sisters had managed to get Rose and Scorpius into the same room without the threat of bodily harm. Both Lucy and Molly had then fled, hoping their mutual love of quidditch, and the friendship that was still ingrained under the surface, would prevail over another foolish argument.

And it had. Neither had actively explained why they were angry with the other, nor had they assigned or accepted blame. Instead they had simply agreed that they missed each other too much to continue to fight. Quidditch was a soothing balm, as is a common foe, and soon they were both happily abusing Flint and discussing tactics. But while their fight was over, it was not forgotten. Nor was the reason they had fallen out in the first place. But nothing more was said, and that seemed to be for the best.

Now, sat together in the stands as Hufflepuff, they craned their necks skywards as the two commentators became more and more hysterical as they hurled abuse at each other, while Professor Marchling unsuccessfully tried to tug the megaphone away. Flint and Higgs were both flying so badly that it was clear that they at least, were trying to sabotage the game. But the other Slytherin players seemingly hadn't received the flying memo, because they were playing hard, whacking bludgers and generally making it difficult to score. But playing with two sabotaging team members was slowing them down, and Hufflepuff was steadily pulling ahead.

After two hours had passed, Hufflepuff was up by one hundred and seventy points, and Rose's heart was in her throat. If Ives caught the snitch then Gryffindor would have a nigh-on impossible total to chase. Beside her, Scorpius shuffled slightly, but she was too into the game to notice. Her mind was tracking every move, how the Hufflepuff's defence was adapted to suit a highly aggressive attack from the Slytherin beaters. It was academic, as Gryffindor had already played both teams, but to Rose it was second nature to see how Livington feinted slightly to the right before swinging back onto the bludger, adding spin to his swing, how Goyle's backhand lacked polish and finesse.

'That was not offside! You can't even be offside in quidditch!' Jessica was shouting.

'You can totally be offside!' Alfie yelled back. 'Otherwise they'd be playing over the Black Lake!'

'And that's not a stupid comparison at all, you daft-'

'Yes I know I'm a flobberworm, you dunce of a salamander!'

'And the seekers are rising fast.' Professor Marchling had finally succeeded in tugging away the megaphone.

'Ives' is the more experienced seeker.' Jessica added.

'That's true', Alfie agreed.

'I wouldn't expect Warrington to even have a shot at catching that snitch.' Jessica continued.

'It would be against all the odds.' Alfie added.

'The seekers are racing around the very top of the towers of the stands.' Professor Marchling said, smiling slightly as the two commentators tentatively took a step towards each other.

'Did we just agree on something?' Jessica asked, her voice still booming over the stands where the crowds were on their feet, cheering for their respective teams.

'I think we did.' Alfie nodded.

'Do you want to get back together?' Jessica questioned.

'Oh hell yes.' Alfie said.

Fortunately Professor Marchling had the sense to reverse the sonorous charm before the sounds of snogging could fill the stadium.

'I don't believe this', Lucy squeaked, jumping up and down in her seat. 'Trevor's caught the snitch! Slytherin's only lost by ten points!'

Rose let a gasp of air, and finally took in her surroundings as she returned to the present from her quidditch-induced haze. As Hufflepuff took a slight disgruntled lap of triumph, Rose turned to Scorpius and found him gazing at her intently. It was only then that she realised that her hand was clamped around his. She loosened her fingers, but didn't let go.

In fact, neither of them let go, not until all the crowds had left the stadium, the pitch was cleared and they were alone in the stands. Only then did they begin to make their way back towards the school, fingers still entwined.

...

Hello my lovelies, another chapter for you. Only three more to go! I'm not hugely happy with this chapter, but I wanted to upload it on the Sunday as promised.

Drop me a review, what did you think?

Love and hugs

A.A.A.