Chapter Five: Not-Date

Rose chickened out.

It wasn't that she didn't want to go to Speed Dating for SoulMates, it was just that it was coming up so fast. She'd only just found out about her SoulMate results; wasn't it mad to jump into something else so quickly? No, she should take her time. She would go to the next one. Really.

At least, that's what she was telling herself when Scorpius bounded in, coming back from lunch, an opened envelope in hand. While he was a generally good-natured person, Rose had never seen him bouncing in his seat even after he sat down, a huge grin on his face. It was almost suspicious.

"What's going on?" Rose asked cautiously.

Scorpius reached over and placed the envelope on her desk, pushing it close to her. "Read it."

She took out the letter—carefully, since this was obviously important, and Scorpius would probably kill her if she mishandled it—and read it aloud. "Dear Mr. Malfoy, we are pleased to inform you that your opinion piece will be published in next week's issue of The Daily Prophet." Rose put the letter down, open-mouthed. "Scorpius. This is incredible."

"It's been impossible to get published," he explained in an excited rush. "I've been trying for years—maybe it's just because of my last name, or inexperience, or whatever—but it's finally happened."

"Wait, what?"

"And this means I'm that much closer to working there," he continued. "I'll try again, keep working at it, then maybe…"

"What do you mean, your last name?" she asked, frowning. "What does that have to do with it?"

His smile faltered. "You must know… people aren't fond of my family after the last wizarding war. I've spent ages trying to find a job at a real news publication, but…"

Rose knew this, theoretically. She thought it was mostly her own father, who was known to hold quite the grudge, that wasn't a fan of the Malfoys, or Slytherins in general—such an outdated point of view. But Scorpius never seemed to have a problem at Hogwarts, perhaps because he'd been Sorted into Gryffindor.

Perhaps it was only her parents' generation that had been giving Scorpius a difficult time.

"Hey," Rose urged, giving the letter back, "congratulations. This is huge." Scorpius had spent days following and questioning players about Emily and Davis, to no avail. It was blowing her mind that he had time—the energy—to write and pitch articles outside the magazine.

His grin was back, though it had lost some of its excitement. "Thanks, Rose. Are you ready for the gala tonight?"

"Did we absolutely have to bring that up?"

"I haven't been to a gala since… well, maybe since I was fourteen," he said, slowly placing the letter back in the envelope and into his bag. There was a reporter in their office that was usually assigned to go to the annual Quidditch gala, if it was in the budget, but as far as Rose knew, it wasn't Scorpius.

"What happened when you were fourteen?" she asked, thumbing through her notes for the story on Emily and Davis.

"My parents got divorced. Naturally, they stopped hosting galas." Rose looked at him and was surprised to see his expression was as nonchalant as his voice. "Honestly, I haven't missed them. If I go the rest of my life without going to one again, I will be happy."

"So… you're telling me there's a chance we're not going?" Rose asked hopefully.

"Absolutely not." He propped his elbows up on his desk and rested his jaw on the back of his knuckles. "Let's go over the plan again."

The plan was interrupted almost immediately after Rose reached the gala.

Step one was bound to fail—meet Scorpius inside, near the bar—because as soon as Rose stepped inside, she was surrounded by her former teammates. After a lot of hugs, far too many photos and saying, "I'm doing really well, actually" about seven hundred times, dinner had just about begun. She'd only got a chance to sit down next to Scorpius at their table as the event started.

"Sorry I'm late," she whispered to him over the announcer's speech about the various sponsors. "I sort of got kidnapped by my old teammates."

He smiled back in response before sweeping his eyes over her, lingering on her dress. Rose quickly switched her focus back to the stage, praying that the foundation on her cheeks was enough to mask her blush, but she was definitely more pleased than she should've been.

Dressing up was probably the only good part of the gala, if she was being honest.

"...and we'd also like to thank SoulMates for sponsoring this year's Quidditch gala," the MC said, voice magically amplified. The baby pink-and-blue 'SM' logo magically formed in the air, bright against the black curtains behind the MC. "SoulMates is proud to keep bringing people together for fifteen wonderful years."

"And it seems they will continue to profit off of people's loneliness and insecurities for many years to come," Scorpius muttered. Rose raised an eyebrow at him, but he ignored her.

After the sponsors, they began to announce the awards, exceedingly boring even to Scorpius. Rose caught him mid-yawn more than once, to which he'd shrugged at her each time. Finally, Quidditch Player of the Year was up, given to none other than Rose's cousin and Albus' older brother, James Potter. It suddenly struck her that he was on the Puddlemere United team as well, though she hadn't seen him that day at the pitch.

"Think he's someone you could question?" Scorpius whispered to her as James went up on the stage. Another deviation in the plan.

"Only if I want my head bitten off." Though it seemed she had no choice, did she? Though James was only a year older than her and Albus, he'd taken several years—too many years—to grow out of his pranking phase. To make matters worse, he was an extremely talented Quidditch player, and along with developing his good looks, his ego had become unbearable over the years.

She took her chance near the end of dinner, when she saw James head to the bar for another drink. Rose sidled up beside him, nudging him after he ordered his drink. There was an initial look of surprise—shock?—on his face, which quickly morphed into a large grin.

"Rose! My favourite cousin!" he greeted loudly, squeezing her into a tight hug.

"Err—favourite cousin? Since when?" she managed to squeak out. Strange, but at least he wasn't being his normal self—that is to say, he wasn't transfiguring her hair to neon green or slipping a Puking Pastille into her food.

"Since always!" He freed her from his grip as the bartender set his drink down, which James grabbed. "How's the elbow?"

Rose immediately lifted her left hand to her right elbow. It no longer hurt—hadn't since the Healers at St. Mungo's had fixed it up—but something had changed, and she could no longer throw a Quaffle with any sort of strength or accuracy. "It's fine. My leg's the problem now, remember?"

"Right, right, I remember." James took a sip of his drink and leaned an arm against the bar. "I honestly didn't think you would come to this."

"Why not?" she deflected, shrugging. "I played Quidditch. I miss it all the time."

"I bet," he said wistfully. "I'm sure you'll be back to it in no time. I wouldn't be surprised if you were all healed up and ready to go by this time next year."

Rose tried to keep herself from gritting her teeth. First Orion, now James—was going back to playing Quidditch what retirement meant these days?

In lieu of an answer, she cleared her throat and said, "Anyway, congratulations on Player of the Year."

"Thanks, Rose," he said, and she tried not to laugh as his chest puffed a little in his Puddlemere jersey. "Honestly, I wasn't that surprised. I did have the most Snitch catches this year."

Quidditch definitely inflated his ego more than strictly necessary.

"So, where's Adeline? Is she here as well?" When she'd last seen him at Easter, James had been dating a girl named Adeline Harrington and brought her over to The Burrow. It had been a surprise for the entire family; as a chronic bachelor, James had never brought a girlfriend home before.

His eyes flitted around the room. "We broke up."

"Sorry to hear about that."

"It was just getting too serious."

She raised an eyebrow. "I mean, that's what 'girlfriend' implies. And meeting the family."

James waved a hand carelessly.

"I'm surprised you kept it out of the news," Rose said, attempting to steer the conversation. In truth, she'd seen rumours in various magazines, but the news had never caught wind of James having a serious girlfriend in the first place, let alone them breaking up a few months later. "Reporters would've been all over that."

"I'm pretty secretive about my private life," James boasted, and Rose had to keep herself from snorting loudly. He was, after all, the same man who streaked naked around the pitch after winning the England Cup a few years ago.

"Did you hear about Emily and Andrew Davis in Which Broomstick?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could.

He shrugged.

"Oh, really?" she pressed. "They are your teammates. It was huge news."

"I don't think they knew each other before she tried out for the team," he told her, and she noted how careful his words suddenly seemed. Maybe he didn't want to sell out his teammates? "At least, it didn't seem like they knew each other."

"Right, yeah."

James leaned in, checking over her shoulder and lowering his voice. "That seems to have changed, though."

Rose nearly fell over. "Wait, seriously?"

"I didn't say anything," he said, leaning away and grinning. "I know nothing at all."

Prat.

Of course, he didn't know she was looking for even a somewhat reliable source. "She hasn't mentioned anything to me," she tried, "and I'm her best friend."

"I thought you guys fell out, sorta," he said, dark eyebrows furrowed. "Haven't seen you around."

"Not at all," Rose lied, her smile beginning to hurt her cheeks. "We're as close as ever."

"Huh."

"In fact…" She spotted Emily getting up from her table. "I think I'll just go say hi to her now. Confirm our plans for next weekend."

Merlin, she was such a bad liar.

"Catch you later, Rose," James called as she hurried away. Rose wished she had something to fidget with; getting information from people, especially people she cared about, was nerve-wracking. And she didn't even care that much about James.

Rose followed Emily—she didn't want to call out, draw attention from others—but when she realized she was headed for the loo, Rose stopped short. That was a bit creepy, following someone into the bathroom, even if it was her (ex?) best friend. While speaking to Emily was part of the plan, she'd imagined it would've been in the lobby, or at a table.

She turned towards her table, where Scorpius was still sitting, fully intending on heading back. But as soon as they made eye contact, he gave her an encouraging expression that clearly read, 'Go follow her, you can do this,' and nodded towards the loo.

Or maybe it read, 'You have to do this to keep our jobs, remember?' Either one applied.

Taking a deep breath, Rose slipped into the bathroom just as the dancing began. Loud music entered the loo just as she did, somewhat muffling the sound as the door swung behind her. Emily was standing in front of the white granite counter, re-applying a bright red lipstick in the mirror.

Scorpius' grey eyes burned in her mind. I can do this.

"Emily!" Rose said cheerily, strolling over as relaxedly as she could towards the sinks.

"Rose?" Emily brightened as soon as she saw her, like nothing had changed. She put her lipstick cap back on the tube before holding her arms out for a hug. "Oh my gosh! I didn't think you made it!"

This is so fake, Rose thought, but kept her smile wide as she hugged Emily. This is so fucking fake.

"How have you been?" Emily asked, almost too eagerly. "I kept meaning to owl, things have been insane lately."

"Puddlemere is doing really well in the league," Rose said, though they both knew the truth: talking loudly didn't dissipate the awkwardness, though they were both certainly trying. "Congratulations, by the way—I didn't realize you'd left the Wasps until recently."

"Yeah, it all happened so fast."

"Did it?" Rose turned away and rummaged through her Undetectable-Extensioned purse, taking out a compact so she didn't have to look at Emily, who was very obviously lying to her. "I know the Wasps didn't do great last season."

"It was time for a change, yes," she said. "How's Quidditch World?"

"Oh, it's amazing," Rose gushed, brushing the compact sponge into the powder and patting it on her forehead. "I've learned so much about the journalism world, written some interesting articles, met some of the top players in the league… honestly, such an amazing experience."

She barely recognized her voice, raving about this job she didn't really care about. She could feel herself reverting back to who she used to be, and it felt like a mask.

If Emily could tell Rose was lying, she didn't show it. In fact, she looked relieved. "That's amazing."

"Amazing," Rose repeated, and after hearing it four times, the word sounded very strange on her tongue. "There's still a lot of Quidditch in my life."

"Well, you'll go back to playing, of course—this is just a bump in the road."

Did everyone think she was going to go back to playing Quiddich? Bloody hell.

"So," she said, trying to morph her face back into a smile so as not to reveal the anger rushing through her, "when did you try out for Puddlemere?"

Emily sighed as she placed her lipstick back in her purse. "Listen, I know what you're thinking."

"Sorry?"

"I know you've heard the rumours about how I got on the team," she said in a rush, "but they're not true. You know I would never sleep with Davis—or anyone, really—to get on the team. You know that."

When she met Emily's gaze in the mirror, she believed her. No matter what Andrew Davis, Adam Bell or James said. "I know."

"After you left, it was a complete shitshow," Emily admitted, glancing around the toilet stalls, which luckily were empty. "You know the reserve Chaser was shit, we didn't mesh well together—not like the two of us did, right?"

"Right," Rose said shortly, not trusting her voice.

"And we lost so many games…" She shook her head. "I loved the Wasps, and I miss the team. But that doesn't mean I had to stay with them forever, did I?"

Rose forced a reassuring smile. She was trying to be understanding, that maybe Emily had gone through a lot with Rose leaving the team, but it was all rushing back. The hurt, the loneliness. She'd been pretending this entire time, and she couldn't ignore it now that Emily was literally right in front of her, unable to acknowledge that this time, Rose had it worse.

Much worse.

"I'm sorry to hear you weren't happy on the team," Rose managed, the aching in her leg increasing with every word. She leaned on her good leg and shut her compact. "I hope Puddlemere is better."

"It is. And I have so much to tell you," Emily said, grabbing onto Rose's arm. "You know how we always talked about doing our SoulMate tests? I did mine earlier this year."

Rose's eyes snapped to Emily's excited ones; she always thought she would be the first to know. She felt the already-painful smile stretch further up her face. "No way."

"I found my soulmate." She squealed. "Can you believe it, Rose?"

Rose squealed back, almost in shock. Almost in envy.

"I can't tell you about it here," Emily continued, looking around the empty restroom, "but we really should catch up soon."

"Yes, definitely!" She felt a pang of guilt; she almost didn't want to know, because maybe she didn't deserve to be close to Emily again if she was just going to report on her life. At the same time, Rose had never been able to say no to her.

"I miss you," Emily told her, squeezing Rose's arm gently before letting go. "I know things have changed. And you've changed. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't keep in touch, right?" And then she was swinging her purse over her shoulder and making her way out the door. "Owl me when you're free, please?"

"I will—I've missed you, too." And Rose meant it, but somehow, she also didn't mean it. And she had no idea what that meant.

There was clearly something new there, something she hadn't recognized: anger.

Why was she angry with Emily? Had she always been?

When Rose's face stopped hurting from fake-smiling and she'd made it out of the loo, she found Scorpius waiting for her, tapping his foot impatiently, attempting to be subtle in observing Emily as she re-joined the crowd. A band had taken to the stage and the dancing had begun; she quickly disappeared into the throes of couples.

Rose looked at Scorpius properly now, leaning against the wall, no longer distracted by the task at hand. Did he not realize how fit he looked in his dress robes? How his tie matched his eyes and even when he was frowning, he looked like he could've been on the cover of Quidditch World himself?

Apparently he hadn't noticed her ogling him at all; without speaking, Scorpius took her hand and led her to the dance floor, as part of their plan. Not that she was complaining.

"Well, that was humiliating," he mumbled, gripping her waist tightly as they began to sway back and forth. "Davis is on some sort of health regimen. I tried to push drinks on him but I looked like a complete idiot."

"Or a massive creep."

"Not helping, Rose." But he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Point is, I failed to question him. How'd it go with Al's brother?"

Rose found James sitting at his table, chatting with a teammate whose name she'd forgotten. A welcome distraction from how nice Scorpius' hands on her waist felt. "He thinks the rumours are true, but that Emily only started dating Davis after she joined the team."

He shifted them smoothly in the opposite direction—though Rose nearly tripped, he didn't notice—and was clearly observing something over her shoulder. "Interesting."

"And in the loo, Emily said she wasn't dating Davis at all."

"Who do you believe?"

"Emily." Rose hated that she was telling Scorpius this, even if the hurt had come back; Emily still didn't deserve to be stabbed in the back, did she? "She said she found her soulmate. She's with them now."

Scorpius was trying very hard not to roll his eyes, she could tell. "Who's that, then?"

"She didn't want to tell me in public, I guess."

He directed them another few feet around, still scanning the room.

Rose found herself looking around the gala as well, wishing she'd gone to Wizarding University like Scorpius had so she could understand how to find a story like he did. There were so many people around; there had to be some scoop that was better than Emily's story, wasn't there? Maybe if she spoke to her former teammates, or attended another Quidditch event—

His voice broke her thoughts. "We'll have to report something, Rose."

"I can continue being in denial for the time being."

"We don't have very long," he said, turning his attention back to her. "I'll probably talk to Adam Bell, get confirmation. He seemed the most promising. That's all Barnes needs to print the story."

"I don't believe him."

"You don't have to put your name on the article," he suggested.

"We can find something else," she said firmly, nearly stumbling again. "There's got to be something better. There has to be."

Scorpius tightened his grip on her—or did she imagine that? "Your leg's hurting, isn't it?"

"It's fine. Really."

Maybe it was his journalistic experience, or probably the fact that he nearly always saw right through her, but he clearly didn't believe her. Scorpius stopped swaying and led them from the dance floor. "Come on. I've got to say goodbye to Davis, and then I'll take you home."

Collapsing on her couch at the end of the gala was the most heavenly feeling she'd felt in ages.

Kicking off her heels—which were definitely a mistake with the state of her leg—and dropping her purse in the corner, Rose collapsed face-first on her plush, sea-blue couch. It was particularly large—even Albus didn't mind crashing on her couch, and he was insanely tall—and it matched her planters, which made her extremely happy.

Rose could tell Scorpius was hovering awkwardly by the door; he'd never been to her place. "You don't have to just stand there, Scorpius. Sit down."

To her disappointment, he sat down on the adjacent loveseat. Though to be fair, she was taking up much of the bigger couch.

She turned around to watch Scorpius looking around her one-bedroom flat, where the kitchen was open to her admittedly tiny living room. Though it wasn't much, she'd managed to fit quite a few potted flowers, herbs and succulents onto the sink windowsill. In front of her couch, there was a massive built-in bookshelf, taking up the entire wall—a large motivator for renting this particular flat, if she was honest.

He scanned her titles before turning to her, smirking. "A lot of romance novels, eh?"

"Don't start with me."

"I like the bookshelf," he amended quickly, "and the plants."

She grinned. "You've passed the test. You may stay."

"I'm honoured." Scorpius shrugged off the jacket of his dress robes, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and folding his sleeves up his forearms. As if she hadn't ogled him enough all night, and now she had to pretend she didn't notice the thin cotton of his shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

Rose hoisted herself to a sitting position and forced her gaze to her red, sore toes. "I never want to go to a gala again."

"Agreed."

"There was only one good thing that came out of this evening."

"Which was…?"

"I swiped a bottle of wine from the open bar just before we left. While you were talking to Davis."

Scorpius seemed half-amused, half in disbelief. "I believe that is exactly what we need after that whole fiasco."

A half glass of Prosecco later, it seemed they both were starting to feel a bit more relaxed. Scorpius had his socked feet propped up on the coffee table (with permission). The windows were open and she could hear the soft murmur of traffic outside. There was a calmness in the evening, a silence that would be awkward with most people, but not between them.

"Emily said she misses me," Rose said quietly, wondering if she had meant it.

"I remember you two at Hogwarts, attached at the hip."

"You're exaggerating."

"I'm really not," he said, grinning as he thought back.

"Things changed after I left Quidditch," Rose explained, poking her still-pink big toe into the couch cushion. "I miss her too, but she still thinks I should play again. I've sort of been avoiding her for it."

"You don't have to go back," Scorpius replied. "The Accident was rough, I don't blame you for leaving."

She felt a rush of gratitude towards him. "You're just about the only one who doesn't."

"You're a talented writer," he said matter-of-factly, making her cheeks burn. "I wouldn't be surprised if you left the magazine for something entirely different."

Rose couldn't imagine doing something outside of Quidditch. "I've only been there for a year."

"You'll want to move on eventually. We both will." He shuddered. "Merlin, help me if I stay at Quidditch World forever."

"At least you were the one who wrote my story," Rose told him, remembering how harsh some of the publications were about her retirement. Witch Weekly had been the worst, outwardly accusing her that her pain wasn't real. Scorpius' article had none of that sort of bias at all.

He took a long sip before proceeding, somewhat cautiously. "What happened that day? The Accident?"

Rose swirled the wine around in her glass. "You know what happened. You reported on it."

"Just the facts." He gave her a small smile. "I'd rather hear it from you."

She sighed, throwing her head back against her lovely, soft couch. "I've fallen off a broomstick before, okay? I get that it wasn't the worst accident out there, or that others have played through fingers flying clean off. There was just something different about that time."

"Could it have been the sustained injuries?" It wasn't really a question.

"Probably."

"When's the last time you went flying?"

"You're joking, right?" Rose asked, bracing her legs up on the cushion, knees to her abdomen. To her surprise, Scorpius moved to sit at the other end of the couch, looking at her leg closely. She watched as he ran his palm down her right shin, and dammit if that didn't send a shiver down her spine.

"I wish you weren't in pain," he said softly.

"I know," she said, voice coming out strangled, so she sipped her wine. "Me too."

"You don't need your leg to fly. You could try flying again, if you wanted."

"And I think I should stay on the ground for a while."

"For someone who loves Quidditch so much," he said, amused, "you spend a lot of time avoiding the sport."

"Noticed that, have you?" Rose said dryly, and he laughed. "It's not that I don't love Quidditch. It's not that at all."

Scorpius poured a little more wine before settling back against the pillow, nudging her legs aside to make room on the couch for his. "Listen, I told you that I took myself off the team. Playing Quidditch is not the same as loving it."

"Exactly!" Rose said, holding up her glass in agreement. "I loved playing it at Hogwarts. I loved being on the team, wearing the jersey, coming up with plays, training for game day…" She bit her lip. "Going pro was different."

"In what way?"

"I hated travelling for work," she admitted. "The entire experience wasn't what I thought it would be. The paparazzi and fan attention was overwhelming."

"That does seem to be a common problem."

"And the truth is…" She hesitated. "I think I had reached a plateau in my career. Everyone always said I was talented so I kept going, but I was one bad season away from getting kicked off the team. And in the end, I never felt any success at all, not really. There was always another game, another play, another goal."

He nodded, grey eyes filled with understanding. Drawing her in.

Rose swallowed and looked down at her glass. "And now, I feel a bit like… like I'm not sure who I am anymore."

"You're not who I thought you were in school," he revealed, "or even a few years ago. You were a bit… brash, if I'm being honest."

She laughed. "Brash?"

"But your plays," he added, losing himself in thought, "your plays were almost always logical, calculated. To the millisecond. I've never quite seen anything like it."

Rose suddenly felt warm all over. She'd no idea he'd followed her career at all, unless he'd written an article about it. Considering she'd read nearly everything of his she could, this was news to her. "Oh."

Scorpius seemed to shake himself out of it, meeting her eyes again. "Definitely arrogant during your interviews, though."

"Give me a break, I was a Quidditch star," she deflected, making him laugh. "It was just a front. I was in deep denial about everything, and that was how I got through it."

"I see that now." Scorpius bent forward to refill Rose's glass. "But nobody stays the same, not even the front they put up."

"I guess not."

He took a long sip, staring past her as he spoke. "I'm not sure I chose the right career, either. I keep thinking if I can break into real journalism, I wouldn't hate my job so much. But it's been years, and I don't know if it will happen."

"Hey, you just had a huge win with The Prophet," Rose said, nudging his leg with hers. "Let's not discount that already."

Scorpius tried for a smile, but it wasn't all there. "That's not even considering the money. I'd be broke if I didn't live with those two idiots, and for all I know, they've avoided being together since they'd have to kick me out."

"Trust me, Albus and Orion have problems that have nothing to do with you."

He shrugged dismissively. "I barely have any savings. If I could at least get a raise, or the promotion I deserve, I could build for the future. Be worth something."

"You really believe that money will give you all of that?"

"It's the most important thing," he confirmed. "More than my hobbies, free time, or finding my damn soulmate."

Rose disagreed wholeheartedly, but she knew voicing it aloud wouldn't make a difference.

She wondered how he'd separated from his family, known for their generational wealth. Judging by how little he spoke of them, perhaps the rift between Scorpius and his family was bigger than it seemed, bigger than being Sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin.

Perhaps he truly was on his own, at least for now.

And maybe it was only because Scorpius was pouring another glass of wine, but she felt brave enough to ask, "Why do you hate the SoulMates program so much?"

He scoffed immediately. "Why do you like it so much?"

"Because it's wonderful!" Scorpius scoffed again, but Rose continued anyway. "It brings so many people together. Divorce rates are down. Lonely people, people who never thought they would find someone, are happily married—they've found their life partner."

"You didn't do SoulMates, did you?"

"No," she lied.

"But you still believe in it." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." She couldn't meet his eyes, but she could tell he was staring at her. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Rose struggled to say it any intellectual way possible. "Like I'm a naïve, romantic fool."

"That's not what I'm thinking," he said, frowning. "I just don't believe there could be just one person out there for someone. And even if there is, I shouldn't have to pay Galleons to find out who that person is. If soulmates are real, the fact that the SoulMates program is a for-profit is despicable. Even the fact that their office looks like a Healer's office…" He shook his head. "What are they playing at, exactly?"

She despised that he made so much sense. It made him that much more attractive to her, and she was only just resisting jumping to the other side of the couch.

"You would much rather live in a world where we don't know who our soulmates are?" Rose managed to ask. "What if you meet your soulmate one day?"

Scorpius shook his head. "Even in this world, when I find someone I want to be with, it's not going to be because a so-called soulmate spell told me so."

Rose was glad he wasn't looking at her because it felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest. She never would've thought that Scorpius was more of a romantic for not believing in SoulMates, but he absolutely was. If she thought she wanted him before, it was nothing compared to how she wanted him now.

She was gone. She was so fucking gone.

A/N: We've finally met Emily! And saw a more personal conversation between Rose and Scorpius.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter - let me know your thoughts :)

Next: a certain picture appears in the papers.