Chapter Seven: Not-Spying

Rose was not supposed to write stories at work. At least, not the fictional kind.

And she wasn't really writing, to be fair. It was Monday, she'd been a bit early to work and she was in a good mood. She'd taken her journal out to write a quick note to herself—Orion had sent her the date of Scorpius' celebration party—and she'd found herself flipping through the pages, reading over her ideas, thoughts, reflections.

It had been ages since she'd written. There was some artistic expression that came from painting, but it wasn't the same. Writing felt like breathing to her.

She read over a plot she'd outlined quite a few months before that she still liked, but reflected a different place in her life. If she was honest, she couldn't put a finger on what she was feeling now. How could she describe what was happening with Albus and Orion, or Scorpius, or even SoulMates? Usually she didn't have to work this hard to start writing, but her mind was only coming up blank. Writer's block was very, very real.

When Scorpius walked into the office, Rose quickly tossed her notebook back into her bag.

Without a word, he sat down at his desk, wrote something down, then placed that week's edition of Spellbound onto her desk, probably stolen from the break room. She picked it up in surprise; when he'd caught her reading it the other day, he'd given her a hard time. She wondered what had changed his mind.

Underneath the magazine was a blank piece of parchment, save for two words in his handwriting: It's bad.

She scribbled back to Scorpius: ?

The lovebirds. They had a huge row when Al got home last night.

Did they kiss and make up?

Scorpius looked up and chuckled before writing back: No. Unfortunately. I may be out of a flat soon.

She knew this wasn't enough, but she wrote it anyway: I wish this wasn't happening. I'm sorry.

Don't be. Everyone leaves eventually.

Rose's eyes snapped up sharply at this, but Scorpius was shifting papers on his desk, unconcerned.

She was considering how to ask what he meant when Mr. Barnes shuffled into work. Scorpius had glanced back to see who had come in, just enough time for Barnes to give Scorpius a look and throw his thumb over his shoulder. He heaved a sigh before following their boss into his office, the door slamming behind them with a thud.

She got up to limp over to the kitchen to make coffee. Her leg was hurting again, and while it wasn't as bad as usual, it was nothing like the night before when the pain disappeared altogether. Rose suspected Laila was onto something about the pain being psychosomatic, but it wasn't clear how the pain would stop, or when.

Nevertheless, she was able to place a black coffee onto Scorpius' desk just as he came out of Mr. Barnes' office, his mood clearly soured by the meeting. He sank into his chair, and Rose quickly wrote on the parchment: Everything okay?

Scorpius' jaw was set as he wrote back: He's angry that we haven't figured out the article yet.

Did you tell him we were getting contradicting opinions?

He doesn't care.

Rose bit her lip, unsure what to do. Why didn't he call me in, too?

He's not going to yell at you, Rose. You're our celebrity.

Just seeing those words sent a wave of anger over her.

That's bullshit. She shoved the parchment back to him, using a little more force than altogether necessary.

Scorpius sent her a small grin. We could write a story to tide him over. Something that wouldn't really catch the headlines, but it would still be about Wood. Since she's been in the spotlight, and all.

Rose was surprised by this. While it was true that Emily was certainly in the Quidditch world's limelight, with her supposed scandal and joining a team high up in the league, Scorpius hadn't mentioned that the two of them had been in the papers all weekend. The Daily Prophet had printed a similar story after the Witch Weekly article—though, thankfully, they'd printed it in the entertainment section, not sports—that Rose and Scorpius were officially an item.

Scorpius read The Daily Prophet cover-to-cover every single day. He had to know.

What could we write about Emily that isn't just speculation? Rose wrote.

Scorpius took a moment to reply. Not much. The ethics surrounding this is tricky. Interviewing her seems like the easiest way to go, but it's unlikely she would interview seeing as she's turned down several offers from other, more prominent publications. There is a possibility she would say yes to you, but there's no saying it would be a story worthy of what Barnes needs.

Rose sighed. She felt trapped between the threat of losing her job and being a good friend.

She pulled out her notebook and began to brainstorm, but each idea seemed like a shot in the dark. Accusing Davis of pressuring Emily to sleep with him seemed like a difficult story, impossible to prove and asking for a lawsuit. Quidditch World had already reported on her joining the team, which wasn't much of a story anyway.

When Rose got really stuck, she threw her quill down and looked back to Scorpius, who she was starting to feel quite frustrated towards. To her surprise, he had the tip of his quill on the parchment, poised to write, but was looking at her.

She raised an eyebrow before writing on their note-covered parchment: You're staring at me.

He wrote back: You look nice today.

Rose looked down at her outfit. She wasn't wearing anything super fancy, just a fitted blouse tucked into some flowy, wide-legged trousers, and a simple gold necklace. She tried to catch his eye but he was back to writing, a small smile on his lips.


The best part of having a brother who was studying to be a Healer was that Rose never had to make an appointment.

Well, not really. When she owled Hugo, he said to come by the next day at two o'clock, so it wasn't much of a walk-in. Still, she appreciated the fact that he would see her on short-notice, so she Apparated—much better than the Floo, in Rose's opinion—to the medical office where Hugo worked, arriving right on time.

In the examination room, Hugo had Rose prop her leg up on the seat while he ran his wand down her right shin. "When's the last time you got it checked?"

She smiled sheepishly at him. "Maybe six months ago?"

"Idiot," he said fondly, shaking his head. "Definitely no curses showing up, so you've still got that going for you."

"Fantastic."

"How's your elbow?" he asked, tapping her knee with the tip of his wand.

"Fine." Rose felt a tickle in her knee and fought the urge to scratch. "I still don't know why I can't throw, but it's fine."

"When's the last time you tried throwing?"

"Um…" She thought back, knowing she'd tried to stop thinking about the times after The Accident, when she thought she might still be able to play. "Must've been just after I recovered, honestly."

He frowned as he tapped her leg and it glowed yellow for a few moments before fading again. "Maybe you should try again?"

"Maybe." Rose had absolutely no intention to do so.

Hugo sat back on his chair and began writing on Rose's chart. "Right, I don't see anything. I could get the head Healer to come in and double-check, but it might be a long time."

Rose's shoulders sagged. "No, it's okay. I should make an appointment next time."

Hugo snorted in response, making her smile.

They'd always been at each other's throats growing up—normal sibling things—and though they didn't speak every day as adults, she knew he was there for her. Hugo was still at Healing school when The Accident first happened, and even though he was constantly studying for exams, he'd checked up on her every day. Granted, that wasn't difficult, seeing as she'd stayed with her parents during recovery and Hugo still lived with them; he hadn't seen the point in moving out since all he did was study.

"So, your leg hasn't felt any better since you fell?" he asked.

"Actually," she replied, remembering the reason she'd reached out to Hugo, "it was the strangest thing—one second my leg's aching like mad, I needed my cane and everything—and the next, it's like I'd completely forgotten about it. No pain at all until I woke up the next morning."

"That is strange." He threw his quill down and ran a hand through his bright red hair. "Maybe distracting yourself from your leg is the best bet to getting better. Even if it doesn't last all the time."

"So you think it's all in my head?" she asked, gingerly shifting her legs so that they were dangling off the seat. "The pain isn't real?"

"It could be psychosomatic," he agreed, looking at her closely, "but Rose, it's not all in your head. The pain is still real."

She felt her shin throbbing. "Yeah. I guess."

"It is real, Rose. Don't listen to what the press wrote about you."

"I wasn't thinking about my leg at the time, it's true," she pondered aloud, trying not to think about the press, "but shit was going down with Albus, and it made me think about my own shit… and it was all very stressful."

"Maybe you have to think about your own shit. Besides your leg."

She wasn't a fan of that idea. "Maybe."

"Like the fact that you were in the paper?" he said, teasing in his tone. He grinned as Rose groaned and let her head fall forward, red curls covering her face. "I didn't know you and Malfoy were dating."

"We're not."

"Dad lost his shit, it was brilliant."

Rose laughed despite herself; she could picture her father's face going bright red, matching his hair. He didn't get angry often, but she supposed finding out her daughter might be dating his rival's son was reason enough. "Must've been a sight to see."

"Mum reminded him of some woman named Skeeter, which seemed to calm him down."

She hesitated. "Is Dad doing okay? Has he gone to his checkups and all?"

"He's gone to all of his checkups," Hugo answered pointedly, "and maybe you should visit more, so you can see how he's doing in person."

"He'll go into full-lecture mode about Scorpius."

"As he should."

"Can't you tell them it's just speculation?" she asked, sending him the puppy-dog eyes. "We're just working together. It's honestly nothing more than that."

Hugo looked at her half in disbelief, half in amusement. "That's a lie if I've ever heard one."

"Please, Hugo."

"Already did," he said, grinning, "but I can't get you out of the Sunday brunch even if I tried. Mum's livid you missed the last few."

"She goes overboard about my leg. I can't deal."

"It's only a couple of hours every Sunday. How bad could it be?"

Rose groaned again.

"Healing-in-training's orders," Hugo said, pushing his chair back as he stood up, "deal with your shit, and deal with our parents."

She sighed. "Fine."

Hugo held out a hand to help her down. "And you should get your leg checked up more often than every six months."

She rolled her eyes and accepted his help. "Thanks, Mum."

If Rose managed to do any of those things, she would call it a win.


Rose had owled Emily if she was free for afternoon tea, and she'd responded by asking if they could meet at the Puddlemere Quidditch pitch instead. The insensitivity was hard to ignore; yes, Rose did have to figure out a story, but even thinking about Emily and Quidditch plunged her into a swirl of complicated emotions that she didn't really care to unravel.

Tea would've been easier.

Still, Rose Apparated to the Pitch after work, right at the end of Emily's practice. She found her waiting near the entrance, hair braided and still in uniform, perched on a Quaffle as she scrolled through her phone. Rose still hadn't gotten a phone, since it was more popular with the younger witches and wizards (especially muggleborns), but she was getting more and more intrigued by them.

"Hey!" Rose greeted Emily, pasting on a wide smile.

"How're you doing, Rose?" She slipped her phone in her pocket, bounced up on the balls of her feet and grabbed the Quaffle from underneath her. "Thanks for meeting me here. I never go to Diagon Alley anymore if I can help it, there's too many paparazzi hanging around."

"They've left me alone, for the most part," Rose admitted. "When did you move?"

"At least eight months ago." Emily tossed the Quaffle in the air, easily, comfortably. "How would you feel about throwing this around?"

She froze. "Well, maybe—"

"Brilliant."

And so Rose found herself holding a Quaffle for the first time in what felt like ages. The groves on the sides felt strange to her hands, despite the fact that she'd practically grown up practicing her throws and passes. It felt wrong on her fingers, awkward and clunky. She tried to remember how she used to grip the ball, but it had become muscle memory long ago. Maybe gloves would've helped.

She passed it to Emily, and her throw rolled in the air towards her. Terrible. "How was the rest of the gala?"

"Oh, it was all right," Emily said, shrugging before she caught the ball. If she seemed surprised by the bad throw, she didn't show it. "The usual. I miss when you used to flick peas at the Player of the Year behind their back."

Rose grinned. "I missed my chance with James this year. Should've gotten him back for that time he kept pelting candy corn at you on one of your Hogsmeade dates."

Emily threw her head back and laughed before tossing the ball back to Rose. She caught it, just barely between her fingertips. "Oh, Merlin. I'd completely forgotten about that."

"Prat." She felt something easing in her stomach; this wasn't so bad. Or maybe she was just relieved there was less squealing involved this time? It was possible Emily had felt awkward in their last interaction, too. "Anyway, I left pretty soon after I saw you."

"I saw you dancing with Malfoy, though."

Rose nearly dropped the Quaffle. "You saw that in Witch Weekly, too?"

"I saw it in person." She paused. "And The Prophet."

"It's not true," Rose said immediately, fumbling in her haste to deny the article. Emily barely caught it, the Quaffle hadn't gone far enough. "We're just—" Working together?

But that would've given her away, and she'd already learned it was best not to mention Quidditch World when she spoke with Adam Bell. In either case, Rose was actually enjoying being around Emily—maybe they could be friends again?

"I get it," Emily said when Rose hadn't continued, "it's complicated. I remember how your dad kept telling you to beat him in exams."

She felt her cheeks reddening. Damn genetics. "I guess."

"Technically, the article only said you were seen together," Emily teased, tossing the Quaffle back a little harder. Rose felt her muscle memory kick in this time when she caught it. "How is your dad doing, by the way?"

Rose was touched that Emily remembered. "Better these days. Hugo's still living at home, so he's in good hands."

"That's good to hear."

Her elbow didn't hurt at all as she threw the Quaffle, but the throw was still weak. Rose tried to laugh off the embarrassment, even though Emily didn't so much as lift an eyebrow. "Right, you can see why I've retired from Quidditch."

"You just need practice," Emily assured confidently. "Once those muscles grow back in, your throws will be back to what they were."

"I'm not going back to Quidditch."

"Sure, sure."

Rose took a deep breath in through her nose to calm herself. "I'm sorry you got attacked by the press for joining Puddlemere mid-season."

Emily, caught off guard in the middle of her throw, accidentally threw the ball straight up in the air. Rose stepped forward to catch it. "That's—thanks for saying that."

"I just thought it was shitty that they went after you, but not Davis."

"Well, that's the way the system treats women," she said, sighing. "It seems to have largely calmed down, now. Hardly anyone asked me about it at the gala."

"That's good." Rose swallowed and tried to focus on throwing the ball. It was entirely possible that Barnes had them chasing after a story that wouldn't have any traction anymore. "Was your soulmate angry from all the accusations about you and Davis?"

Emily caught the Quaffle, taking her time to reply. "Not really. Considering we're soulmates."

"Soulmates can cheat on each other." She tried to backtrack. "Not that you would, but—"

"I suppose that's true," Emily pondered, "but I'm surprised that you're saying that, of all people."

Rose watched as she threw the ball back, a little harder than strictly necessary. Scorpius was definitely in her head again; or maybe, since she had no idea who her soulmate was, the entire idea didn't seem as rosy as it once had.

"But no," Emily continued as she observed Rose catch the Quaffle, "I don't think he was angry. We're still keeping it a secret until this whole Davis thing completely dies down."

Rose's leg was starting to throb; she leaned to the left. "He, then?"

"There are some things that women do better," Emily lamented with an exaggerated sigh, making Rose laugh, "but yes, my soulmate ended up being a man."

"And everything worked out okay when you two found out?" she asked, thinking of Albus and Orion as she threw the Quaffle back. To her surprise, that throw ended up being okay.

A blush rose on Emily's cheeks as she caught the Quaffle. "Yeah. I think it might have been the best day of my life."

"Really?"

"Honestly." She threw the Quaffle to Rose, but her mind was somewhere else. "I thought it would be unknown. The chances of actually having someone already in the program and having met them wasn't that high, was it? But he was."

Rose felt a pang as she caught the ball around her middle. "That must have been a relief."

"It was incredible," she recounted dreamily. "Right there in that office, I had the spell done and I could feel the name forming on my skin. I owled him afterwards, we had basically the best date of our lives… well, if you could call spending an entire weekend together a date," she finished, blushing.

"I'm really happy for you, Emily," Rose said, attempting to smile. Emily could owl her soulmate—someone she'd barely known—but not her best friend of over ten years. She threw the Quaffle back, trying a little more force, but it directed towards the ground and rolled. "Are you getting married, then?"

Emily's smile wavered. "Not sure yet. We're just waiting for the rumours to die down about—oh crap, is that really the time?" She'd glanced down at her watch as she'd knelt down to grab the ball. "I've got to get going for dinner…"

"Leaving already?" Rose asked as Emily unlatched the shaking case of Quidditch balls and threw the Quaffle in.

"Sorry about this," she said, looking at Rose apologetically once she'd gotten the case shut. "Promised my mum I wouldn't be late this time. I'll owl you, maybe we could do this again?"

"Let's get tea next time," Rose called firmly, waving goodbye as Emily ran out the entrance of the pitch. She waved back, but Rose wasn't exactly sure if it was an agreement. Either way, she felt it was unlikely to agree to coming back to the pitch.

Rose hobbled to the bench and sat down with a sigh, looking around the now-empty pitch, eyes lingering over the hoops. While it wasn't as bad as her anxiety told her it would be, being at the pitch wasn't the warm, exciting feeling it had been when she was younger. She could still hear the roar of the crowd echoing in her ears, louder and louder until she had to shake her head out of it.

Suddenly, she heard a quiet thud behind her, followed by a whispered, "Fucking hell!" Rose was up immediately, following the noise to a space under the stands. Behind a wide wooden pole, hopping on one foot in the way one does when they've stubbed their toe, was Scorpius.

"What are you doing here?" Rose whispered as she approached him. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, other than the fact that Scorpius had no business being there.

And he knew it; he put his foot down gingerly, guilt all over his face. "Nothing."

"What—Scorpius, were you here the whole time?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," he said, clearly nervous as he dusted off his trousers, "even if those conclusions happen to be accurate."

"You were spying on us?" she hissed.

"Technically, I was not spying on you," he amended, "just Wood. And yes, it was not one of my best ideas, but also, I have no other ideas."

"I cannot believe this." Rose crossed her arms tightly over her chest, because if she didn't, she was definitely going to strangle him. "You've been spying on Emily."

"And Davis," he admitted. "Just their Quidditch practices."

"Seriously?"

"I don't know what else to do!" he blurted out in a loud whisper, raking his hands through his hair. "We're not getting anywhere just interviewing people, Adam Bell and everyone else I've asked doesn't seem to know anything, or want to go on the record… I've just been hoping to find something, because Barnes wants to demote me or give me the sack if I don't figure this out."

But Rose knew what it felt to be spied on, her sense of privacy shattered. Sure, Scorpius may have just been dropping in on practices, but even the thought of him spying made her feel sick to her stomach. Struggling to comprehend how he had somehow lost all moral integrity, she spun on her heel and headed towards the entrance of the pitch.

"Rose," he said urgently, following her, "I didn't know you were going to be here. I swear. I would never spy on you."

"I know that—that's not why I'm angry." She turned and stopped, and he nearly bumped into her. "Are you really okay with doing this to keep Barnes happy?"

"I don't want to do this," he spluttered, wide-eyed, hands landing on her shoulders. "I don't even know what I'm doing. I'm not this type of journalist, I've never reported gossip, I can't stand this shit—"

"So it doesn't bother you that Emily is a person, with feelings, and a private life?"

Scorpius scoffed. "She's not my friend, attempting to pressure me into a career I no longer have an interest in."

It was Rose's turn to splutter. While her relationship with Emily was somewhat complicated and confusing, she'd thought they'd made progress just then. Also, the fact that Scorpius picked up that was nothing short of humiliating. "You don't—that's a low blow, entirely besides the point—"

"What do you want us to do?" he asked. "I know you want to keep your job, too."

This wasn't entirely true; she did want to keep her job, but she wasn't in need of the money. At least, not like in the way he was.

She swallowed, her blue eyes locked to his grey. "Yes. With a different story."

"We don't have any story," he said, dropping his hands down her arms to step closer. "It's been weeks and we have nothing. The deadline is coming up, and fast."

"I know when the deadline is," she said, narrowing her eyes, "and I know we have nothing to report yet, but—"

"What if we report on her soulmate?"

"Are you serious?" He was closer, but she was no longer whispering. "You just heard her say how they wanted to keep it under wraps."

"I also heard that they want to announce it eventually," he pointed out, gesturing towards the entrance where Emily had left long ago. "Why can't it be us who writes about it first?"

"She's not ready, you heard that too!"

"You're too fucking nice, Rose!"

"I'd rather be nice than resort to spying on people to write stories without any proof," she bit out, "for a shitty boss who doesn't care about you."

"He doesn't care about having proof."

"But you do, don't you?"

And then it was quiet, they were far too close to each other, and she was trying quite hard to make sure her gaze didn't drop to his lips. There was a distant ringing in her ears, harmonizing with the heavy thumping in her chest.

"I do care," he admitted, clearing his throat.

"You're terrible at this whole investigative thing." She was almost whispering again.

Scorpius let out a breathy chuckle. "Just noticed, have you?"

Embarrassingly, that was sort of true; she wondered what else she had ignored in favour of her feelings towards him. His eyes were searching hers, as if they were waiting for her, daring her to lean up and close the little space left between them.

Rose felt that she had to quite literally tear herself away to head towards the entrance again.

"For the record, I'm still mad at you," she called over her shoulder, attempting to regain some sense of normalcy. She glanced back only just before he would be out of sight. He was still looking at her, hands in his pockets, kicking at the grass with the bottom of his shoe. Smiling—a guilty smile, but a smile all the same.

She sent him one last glare before leaving.


A/N: Hello hello, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I always think it must be so tough for celebrities who lose their sense of privacy, so I feel Rose would react pretty badly to Scorpius spying. Led to some tension, that's for sure ;) Please let me know your thoughts in a review!

Next chapter: Orion throws Scorpius a party to celebrate his article.