The enchanted ceiling lit up with falling stars in rhythm to the beat. Scorpius headed for the area on the dance floor with the deepest shadows—ironically dead centre—and pulled Rose close. "I needed a break. How about you?" He moved with the music, a slow bounce, at first, and then faster, every beat down with the tempo. When Rose matched his moves, he switched to a half time beat and an up bounce, isolating the muscles of his chest. Out. In. Out. In.
Rose laughed. "I'm not doing that!"
He danced in place, moving his hips. Rose edged closer. He shifted behind her, caressing her waist through the fabric of her dress. She tilted her head to gaze up at him. "What did Marianne say to you?"
"Nothing that matters." He breathed in the subtle, sensual aroma of her perfume.
Her body rocked with his. "It matters to me."
"Move it, witches!" Orna, followed by Guy, Nathaniel and Magaera, barrelled through the crowd. When they reached Scorpius and Rose, Orna said, "Naughty boy! We saw you two down here, enjoying yourselves without us."
Scorpius looked up. Behind the strands of fairy lights, a couple stood watching.
"Oh, don't bother about them," Orna said. She pursed black-lined lips. "They don't want to dance. What fun is that?" She jiggled around to the music in a way that her boyfriend, at least, seemed to appreciate.
"None at all," Scorpius answered.
A new song started. They all danced. The experience was surreal, as if one of his idle thoughts at a Slytherin House party—what would happen if he invited Rose Weasley—had come true. When the DJs finally took a break, the group returned to their private room. Edgar and Marianne were gone. Hobbes handed Scorpius a note written on club stationery.
Mother Goyle finds it impossible to rest until she knows we've returned home safely, but don't let our departure spoil your evening. Dinner was lovely.
"What does it say?" Orna asked.
Scorpius used a spell to vanish the evidence that his best mate's life was hell. He said, "Marianne was tired," and then asked Hobbes to bring champagne.
Three hours and four bottles of champagne later, the conversational gamut had run from gossip about other Slytherins and the upcoming Quidditch season to reminiscence about Hogwarts days. Couples sat in pairs around the table, although Magaera appeared less than thrilled to be Nathaniel's partner for the evening. She rolled her eyes whenever he stammered out a compliment.
"We should conjure a dartboard," Guy said. His hair stuck out in all directions, whatever styling charm he'd used no match for Orna's talons. "Let Malfoy's girlfriend see what a killer he is."
"Killer is a darts game," Nathaniel added.
"I think I've played it before," Rose said. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the latest round of dancing. Scorpius raised an eyebrow. The last time they played Killer, she had distracted him by removing her clothes to win a full body massage. She glanced at him and her colour deepened. She said, "I remember it vividly, actually."
Orna drained the last of her champagne. "Darts are bor-ring."
Guy handed her his glass so she could finish his drink too. "We could pin fairies to the dartboard."
A heartbeat later, the fairies scattered, darkening the room to candlelight.
"They're magical creatures, not insects," Rose said. "They understand our language."
"So I see," Guy replied. He and Orna sniggered. Magaera joined in.
A few minutes later, the door to the room opened.
A wizard encased in black dragon hide squeezed his massive frame through the doorway. Barry Boot affected a Beater persona even off the Quidditch pitch. He said, "Which one of you threatened my fairies?"
Nathaniel gave a nervous chuckle. "No one. It was a joke."
The scowl on Barry's thick-jawed face deepened. "Well, they're hiding in the garden, useless for anything. Somebody's going to pay."
"I already have. I booked this room for the entire night." Scorpius stood. "Not that we're staying. The ambiance is dull without them." He looked at the others. "We'll have coffee in the garden before we go, shall we?"
"Lumos Duo doesn't serve coffee," Barry said.
Grandfather Lucius would have said, "That's unfortunate," and gone home to draw up a notice that the club's rent had doubled. Scorpius replied, "I wouldn't drink it if you did. My standards are much too high. Hobbes will go down the street to the Conjured Cup." When Hobbes didn't move, Scorpius said, "The owner lives above the shop, and he's always willing to fulfil the odd request by special customers. Tell him I want kopi luwak."
Hobbes vanished.
"Hey!" Barry said. "Nobody orders my house-elf around without my say-so. Who do you bloody think you are?"
Your landlord. Scorpius smiled faintly. "I'm a customer who expects value for my Galleons," he said. "I'm also a Quidditch fan. The Kestrels are expected to improve this year. They may beat the Cannons yet." He waited for the insult to sink in: The bottom-league Kestrels had improved by getting rid of Barry Boot. The moment never came. Instead of swelling up in anger, Barry puffed out his chest.
"Fan, eh? Mostly, it's the ladies, impressed with the way I handled my bat. Longest in the league, it was." He gave the three women an equal-opportunity leer. "It's hanging on the wall behind the bar if anyone wants to take a gander."
Magaera tittered. Barry winked.
"Some other time," Rose said. "I'd love to see the garden."
"Anything for my fans." Barry led them downstairs, through a service corridor to the employee's entrance.
"Goodnight," Scorpius said when Barry made to follow them into the narrow brick alleyway. "We'll drink our coffee and see ourselves out." He closed the steel door on his host's reluctant farewell.
"Thank Merlin you slammed the door in his face," Orna cried. "What a loser!"
"I thought he was fanciable," Magaera said.
"Probably compensating with the size of that bat," Nathaniel muttered.
Scorpius strolled over to join Rose in front of the long, rectangular garden planter. He said, "Milkweed, lavender, fairy phlox and enough evergreen shrubbery to hide. Your ex-Hogsmeade partner did his research."
Rose leaned down to one of the shrubs. "We would never hurt you," she said. "I'm sorry you were frightened."
A tiny head appeared over the top of a broad leaf and then ducked down again as Hobbes and a wicker tea trolley with an urn and service for six materialised next to the planter.
"Coffee is being served," Hobbes announced.
"No thank you," Rose said. Her tone was pleasant, but her expression told Scorpius that she wanted to go home.
The others wandered over. Guy sniffed his cup before tasting. "Smells expensive," he said. "Higher notes. Something fruity." He took a sip. "The nutty aftertaste is amazing."
"It's fantastic," Nathaniel said.
"Coffee snobs," Orna jeered playfully.
Magaera drank her coffee in two gulps. "Stuff's all right."
"Mags only likes Irish coffee," Orna said. "The more whisky, the better."
Scorpius finished his cup and placed it on the trolley. "Thank you, Hobbes. If you'll return the trolley once my friends are done—"
"Hold on," Guy said. "Tell us about this coffee."
"It's one of the most expensive in the world," Scorpius said. "I thought it fit the occasion." Now, with Rose giving him a look that demanded What have you done, he wished he'd been less annoyed, that he'd ordered something else, coffee from St. Helena or Jamaica's Blue Mountains.
Nathaniel poured himself another cup. "What makes it taste so good?"
"The method of extraction." Scorpius turned to Rose. "Ready to go?"
"How is it extracted?" she asked, clearly paying him back for earlier evasions.
"A tedious process." Pinned by stares, he admitted, "The coffee fruit is…pre-digested…before the coffee bean is extracted."
Nathaniel's eyes bulged. In a squeaky voice, he asked, "Pre-digested by what?"
Scorpius shrugged. "A mongoose."
.
.
Author Note: It's a dreary Friday evening where I am, rainy and grey, but I'm cheered that I'm able to post an update for lovely (in a non-Marianne way, heh) readers like alix33, drcjsnider, Ellinell, Elizabeth-nightwatchman, fynnsmom, Missdagane, Needle In A Haystack, Nocturna Mae, Rose of the West, SGed, sofia666, ThoseEvilDucks, and yiota.