A/N: Hey all!

I am pleased to grace you all with an update! Even though I haven't updated this story since March of this year (and it's November, I know), not a day has gone by where I haven't thought about this story and what I plan to do with it.

But life has been crazy, y'all! I finally got married in September to the love of my life, and let me tell you… the months leading up to the marriage were fucking INSANE! So much planning, so much pressure, so much stress and tears, but the payoff was wonderful! The wedding was amazing. My husband and I are happy and all settled, my family and friends had a great time, and now we are here!

I cannot promise quick updates from here on out as life constantly throws curveballs at me, but I can promise you that I will finish this story, and I have some diabolical plans for Rose and Scorpius *cue evil laughter here*.

So please stay tuned. Thank you all so much for your patience.

As always, please leave a review! I adore reviews.

With Love,

Everlasting Faerie Light

XXX

"Let's find out if our spirits meet,

Let's push and tweak,

Let our spirits cheat.

I don't know about you.

I don't know about you."

-'IDK' by Feber Ray

XXXXXXX

~Later July 2032 - Present Day~

Dear Rosie,

I miss your cute little freckled face!

I'm so sorry that I didn't write you sooner— I got into a bit of a fix involving a Norwegian Ridgeback and I was hospitalized for the last two weeks. Don't worry, though— thankfully most of the healers in Romania are experts when it comes to nasty dragon burns.

But enough about me. Let's talk about your shit-show of a life (no offense, love).

I'm still processing the fact that Scorpius Malfoy is your new boss. Are you doing alright?

You've been actively avoiding the tosspot for the past eight years, so I can only assume that this arrangement is killing you.

Try to keep your interactions with him at a minimum.

I know that you don't like to talk about what happened back at school, but I'm always here if you ever need someone to vent to that isn't a shrink.

Speaking of shit-shows (again, no offense, love), what is this I hear about your twat of a cousin and a certain cheating ex-girlfriend?

I have to admit that even I didn't see this one coming.

Who knew that darling little Grace Evers had it in her?

Anyways, I'm going to cut this letter short because we'll have an opportunity to catch up this weekend when I come back home to London TOMORROW! Yeah, surprise! I'll be in the area for the next two months on an extended, paid vacation. I hope you don't have any plans, because we are going to PARTY. And I already know what you're thinking, Rose, but I'm telling you right now that I won't take no for an answer.

Give Lily and Evangeline all of my love!

See you soon,

Estella xoxoxo

Rose blinks a few times as she stares at her best friend's overly swirly signature.

Funny— her usually sharp and literate brain doesn't comprehend much of anything other than the words "Scorpius" and "Malfoy."

Fucking stupid.

Her eyes skim over the letter a second time so that she can actually process its contents.

A mixture of both relief and apprehension floods her gut at the thought of Estella being in town for the next two months.

Relief because she is her best friend, and Rose desperately needs the genuine support of a friend not tied to her by familial obligation.

Apprehension because when Estella goes on vacation with the intention to "PARTY," she means it with her entire heart and liver.

A party with Estella McDonald usually has one of two possible outcomes—

One— Rose is forced to escort her extremely intoxicated friend off the premises before she makes an even bigger fool of herself than she already has, or—

Two— they both wake up in a ditch somewhere on the outskirts of London with absolutely no recollection of the night before.

Which, given all the recent negative press, is the last thing Rose needs at this point in her life.

With a sharp exhale, she folds the letter in half, tucks it into the pocket of her robes, and forces herself to acknowledge the gargantuan stack of papers sprawled haphazardly across her desk.

Today has been unreasonably busy.

And of course, Rose cannot seem to concentrate at all.

Her eyes gloss over the front page of the Gobstones Team Registration Form in front of her. The small black letters blur in and out of focus as a certain blonde-haired, silver-eyed distraction interrupts her already meager thought process.

Fuck.

Rose emits a frustrated snarl as she brings her curled fist down on the surface of her desk with a resounding THUNK.

Hopeless.

No matter how hard she tries, she cannot erase the image of a silently distraught Scorpius Malfoy from her brain.

A lot happened at Malfoy Manor yesterday, but for some reason, Rose can only focus on the desolate look on Malfoy's face right before she disapparated, along with the dull ache of her own heart.

She feels seventeen again, and she hates it.

She hates that she lost so much sleep last night tossing and turning while the onslaught of intrusive thoughts and memories placed a chokehold on her consciousness.

She hates that the people who wreaked so much havoc on her years at Hogwarts once again have a dominating presence in her life.

She hates that the events of yesterday's Quidditch practice led pretty much everyone in the entire department to think that there is something shady going on between her and Malfoy.

Rose suddenly feels like the focal point of some melodramatic teenage drama where the driving force of the plot is gossip.

While most of her coworkers across all three divisions have had enough decency to limit their judgment to shifty looks and disapproving sneers, Robin Midgley from the Ludicrous Patents Office had the audacity to ask her outright if she was shagging Malfoy.

And Rose was so taken aback by Midgley's bluntness that she could only stutter out some half-assed denial that probably only made her look even more guilty.

She also hates that Olivia Orford took it upon herself to deliver Malfoy's coffee to him without so much as a courtesy owl letting Rose know that she didn't have to waste a trip to Madame Serena's this morning.

And she only figured that out because when she came to work this morning five minutes late with Malfoy's specialty coffee, Mildred O'Rourke enthusiastically informed her that Olivia had arrived about half an hour before Rose did with an identical cup of coffee, and that she and Mr. Malfoy were "having a serious talk" in his office behind a magically locked door.

Hearing that bullshit set the tone for the rest of the day.

Though she knows that it really is none of her concern, Rose cannot deny the white hot surge of anger that barrels through her chest at the thought of Olivia Orford and Scorpius Malfoy shagging like rabid dogs in his office.

A part of her fury stems from the lack of respect Orford has not only for Rose, but for her own damn self.

Even though Malfoy is a married man, and clearly using the bitch as his latest cum rag with little to no regard for her feelings, Orford continuously and shamelessly throws herself at him— and frankly, her meltdown on the pitch yesterday caused Rose a fair amount of secondhand embarrassment.

But an even larger part of her fury is rooted in the fact that Rose is—

Jealous.

With another frustrated growl, she chucks her quill across the room, where it hits the opposite wall with a loud clink.

She cannot face that part of herself.

Not now.

Not yet.

"Whoa there, Weasley! Trying to take someone's eye out?"

Of all the people to try and conversate with her at this exact moment—

Rose cannot believe the nerve of Emery Davidson.

She glares menacingly at the tosser standing at the doorway with his stupidly perfect hair and imploring, almost innocent eyes.

Before yesterday's series of unfortunate events, Rose would have been open to his seemingly flirtatious advances. His daily visits to her office had been, for the most part, welcome— until the idiot decided to low-ball her with money that wasn't even his.

Sneaky bastard.

"Get the fuck out."

The words spill from her lips before Rose herself can process them in her brain.

Not only did Davidson low-ball her and leave her stranded in Malfoy's godforsaken monster mansion, but he was there.

He witnessed everything— her questionable antagonism with Olivia Orford, the fucked up chemistry that vibrated between her and Malfoy during their one-on-one argument, and the utter violence that permeated the air when Octavia witnessed her husband escort Rose off the pitch.

And as much of a dumbass as Davidson can be… Rose knows that he isn't entirely stupid.

In fact, he has already proven himself to be quite smart.

She doesn't want him to start making correct assumptions.

"There's no need for aggression," quips Davidson in a tone that makes Rose want to punch him in the face.

Before she can respond, he holds up a thick stack of papers bound together by an enchanted rubber band.

"Mr. Malfoy told me to give you these order forms from the Ludicrous Patents office. They need to be signed and mailed out by no later than nine tomorrow morning."

Rose ignores the leap in her chest at the mention of Malfoy's name.

"Give them here and get the fuck out."

But of course, Emery Davidson doesn't listen to her.

After placing the stack of papers in the wooden cubby hanging by the entrance to her office, he takes a few steps towards her desk with a knowing look on his handsome face.

Rose already knows what's coming.

"Sooooo…" he drawls with a smug smile, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

Ooh she wants to cause this motherfucker so much pain.

"What?!" she snaps, her ice blue eyes narrowing in on Davidson with unbridled malice.

"I just have to ask… does Mr. Malfoy have more than one shag-mate in the workplace?"

Rose inhales, her breath deep and steady as she begins the countdown in her head.

10, 9, 8, 7….

She is determined to not let Emery Davidson of all people get the best of her.

"You are asking the wrong bitch," she replies, her voice short and frigid. "Mr. Malfoy'ssex life is of no concern to me."

Rose cannot stop her fingers from nervously toying with the stack of papers in front of her; but she is determined to hold eye contact.

She refuses to let this fucker take the mickey out of her.

Not today.

"Hmm," Davidson hums knowingly, that smug look still plastered all over his stupid face. He crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side, his eyes flitting from Rose's face down to her unconsciously fidgeting fingers.

"If it really is of no concern to you, then why did you make a scene yesterday?"

Rose's chest tightens, but she keeps her mouth glued shut while Davidson prattles on with an ever-growing smirk.

"Everybody knows that Mr. Malfoy and Ms Orford are having an affair, but judging by your little outburst on the pitch yesterday, you're the only one in the entire department who seems to care. That sounds like a whole lot of concern to me. Some would call it jealousy."

Her blue eyes narrow dangerously.

6, 5, 4…

"Aren't you in your mid-thirties?" she asks, the left corner of her lip twitching in irritation. "You sound like a smarmy fourth year who gets his rocks off by shoving Rita Skeeter's editorials up his arsehole."

Davidson throws his head back and laughs, the sound bouncing off the stone walls of her cramped office.

"You're a funny one, Weasley," he chimes in between chuckles. "…though undoubtedly batshit insane."

He makes no motion to leave.

He really doesn't listen.

The motherfucker.

3, 2, 1.

Exhale.

Once she pushes the last bits of air through her pursed lips and nostrils, Rose fixes Emery Davidson with an even, but undeniably harsh glare.

Her hands stop fidgeting and form into fists.

"You're in my office interrogating me about Malfoy's sex life during business hours, and you have the nerve to call me batshit insane? You're fucking hilarious," she deadpans, her fingernails now digging into the skin of her palms. "No, I am not shagging Malfoy, nor do I give a rat's arse about anyone stupid enough to give him any sort of sexual attention. Now please get the bloody hell out of my office. I'm very busy today."

A small part of Rose is proud of herself for her current level of restraint.

But a larger part of her is snarling in fiery rage against her forcibly taught lips, desperate for release.

"Haven't you noticed by now that nobody loves gossip more than a ministry employee?" Davidson inquires playfully, now only a few inches from the edge of her desk. "It's all the bloody paperwork. The boredom makes us hungry for a good scandal."

"A scandal is only good if it's true," Rose snaps, her forcibly even voice taking on some of its usual edge. "If you want a good workplace scandal, why don't I announce to the whole office that you're a shady, cheap piece of shit that tried to steal half of my bonus from right under my nose?"

The smug smile slips from Davidson's face, and his posture immediately stiffens.

"That wasn't a real bonus," he replies in a clipped voice, though Rose can see his cheeks flush with what she presumes to be a mixture of rage and embarrassment. "Malfoy bribed you and used me as the scapegoat. You have nothing on me."

"I received a record of payment this morning." Rose cannot help the sinister smile from creeping on her lips.

It's her turn to be a smug bitch.

"It was reported to the wizengamot as a legitimate departmental bonus yesterday afternoon. I can show you if you'd like."

Rose's voice takes on a sickeningly sweet edge dripping with condescension.

She flutters her eyelashes at him for good measure.

If there is one good thing that came out of this clusterfuck of events, it's that Malfoy went out of his way to cover his bribery by reporting it as a legitimate bonus— which in turn gives Rose's dirt on Davidson a poignant edge.

She understands that Davidson didn't try that hard to take a portion of her bonus. That he only attempted to low-ball her one time, and gave up as soon as she denied his offer. In all honesty, she can acknowledge that in the grand scope of things, the situation is fairly minor.

However, Rose cannot get over the fact that if she were just a bit softer, a bit less suspicious, or even just a tad bit nicer, she would have fallen for Davidson's man-boy charms and accepted his low-ball offer like a fool.

And even though it didn't happen, just the thought of that scenario makes her blood curdle.

"I must admit," implores the tosspot in question as he crosses his arm and shakes his head, a wry smile appearing on his lips. "…that I am fascinated by your ruthlessness. You're definitely one of a kind."

Rose rolls her eyes, her patience wearing dangerously thin.

"Save it for a bitch that can take a shitty compliment, Davidson," she snaps in a flat voice. "Now get the fuck out before I report you to the wizengamot for attempted theft."

"Alright, alright. I'm leaving." Davidson raises both of his hands up in surrender, and takes a few steps backwards so that he's no longer pressed up against her desk. "But before I leave, I need to inform you that Mr Malfoy won't be needing your assistance with mail sorting today. He says that you are free to leave at three o'clock—which is in about fifteen minutes."

Rose's stomach flips backwards. She clenches her fists to maintain her firm composure.

"Why?"

Her voice is flat and unemotive apart from its characteristic bite.

Davidson's eyes narrow in on her like a pair of microscopes as they scour her face for any subtle changes in her expression— any little giveaway to validate the Malfoy-Weasley rumor circulating through the entire department.

"Ms Orford has volunteered to assist him. She suggested that you be allowed to leave early as a reward for your diligence today. Mr. Malfoy agreed and sent me here to relay the news. You will still be compensated for a full shift."

Rose isn't sure if she wants to laugh out loud, or pick up her desk and chuck it at Davidson, who is now standing at the door with an expectant look on his face.

Like he's waiting for her to explode.

No… like he wants her to explode.

The monster in her chest growls menacingly, gnashing its teeth as it begs for release.

But she refuses to give into the beast's urgent cries for release.

After all, that is exactly what Davidson (and everybody else) wants from her.

Maybe the world really is out to get me.

"Fine," she deadpans, careful to mask any underlying emotions creeping just below the surface of her hardened face. "Then get the fuck out of my office so that I can at least finish this gobstones registration form before I leave."

She doesn't miss the look of obvious disappointment on Davidson's face as he exits her office.

—

"Rose? Roooose…. ? OI! EARTH TO WEASLEY!"

Rose jumps at the sound of Lily's demanding voice permeating her eardrums, which causes the cup of scalding hot tea in her grasp to spill over the sides and onto her freckled hand.

"Fucking Merlin, Lily," snaps Rose, a scowl forming on her face as she hurriedly places the now half-full teacup on the coffee table in front of her.

She can already see blisters forming on her skin.

"Don't fucking do me like that!" she berates her younger cousin, using her other hand to wave her wand over the affected area.

"I wouldn't have to if you would actually pay attention to the conversation," replies Lily in a tone far too snippy for Rose's liking. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose and graces her older cousin with a look mixed with both irritation and concern. "What's gotten into you today? You seem distracted."

Rose rolls her eyes and leans back against the living room sofa.

There is no point in relaying any of yesterday's events to Lily.

Her younger cousin doesn't know jackshit about jackshit, and Rose isn't ready to provide context.

"I'm just tired," she grumbles as she stares at the blooming moly plant above her, its vines creeping across the wooden ceiling. "Busy day at work."

"Well at least you got to come home early!" supplies Evangeline kindly.

She is squashed against Lily in the tiny armchair set across from Rose, but neither seem to mind the lack of space between them. "And Estella will be here tomorrow. Lily was just asking if you two were planning on doing anything special or exciting?"

"Nothing yet," Rose responds with a sigh, before sitting back up to look at the intertwined pair in the armchair. "I got her letter just a few hours ago. I haven't had a chance to write back, let alone plan anything."

Lily's face settles into a frown as she surveys her older cousin, her brown eyes flashing suspiciously from behind her spectacles. "You don't seem that excited about her coming to town. Did you two have a row or something?"

"No, we didn't have a fucking row, Lily," Rose snaps with a bit more aggression than intended. "Like I just said: I'm tired."

She is happy that Estella will be in town for the next few months— she really is.

But every emotion Rose feels today is inexplicably warped by yesterday's events at Malfoy Manor, along with today's unwelcome interrogations regarding her imaginary "shag-mate."

How the bloody hell is she supposed to vent candidly to Lily or Evangeline when they know absolutely nothing?

Lily scoffs in response, but decides against humoring her cousin's shitty attitude with an argument, and instead turns her attention back to her girlfriend plastered against her.

"Well," she starts with a coy smile as she slowly tucks a lock of Evangeline's hair behind her ear.

"We all know that when Estella comes around for vacation, she likes to party. And when she parties…"

Lily's brown eyes flash mischievously above the dark rim of her glasses as she drinks in her girlfriend's flushing face with a mixture of sensuality and mirth.

"…she likes to have a little extra fun with the girls," Evangeline finishes with a shit-eating grin.

Barf.

Rose cannot help but gag.

She doesn't care to be reminded that her best friend has this funny tendency to play the role of Lily and Evangeline's slutty little unicorn every time she comes to London.

"Let's skip the part where my cousin and her girlfriend talk about shagging my best mate, yeah?"

She shoots Lily a withering glare, who only throws her head back and laughs, her silky red hair swaying gracefully with the motion. .

"Oh get over it, Rosie," she quips, that devious smirk never leaving her lips. "Y'know it's all in good fun. She's just a straight girl going through an experimental phase."

"Mmm…" interjects Evangeline. "She's obviously not that straight."

"Fucking hell," Rose groans, placing both hands over her ears to emphasize her discomfort. "I don't give a flying fuck about what or who you do in your spare time. I just don't want to hear about it."

"Fair enough," Lily replies with a civil nod. "At least you're not a weird, territorial git like Albus." She repositions herself so that her legs are now draped over Evangeline's lap. "He would never be able to handle it if either of his best mates shagged any of his relatives. Lucky that Dom gave up on Malfoy years ago."

Rose feels a swell of bitterness permeate her gut. She isn't sure if it's directed at Albus, Dom, or Malfoy.

She has enough sense to understand that any bitterness she feels towards her cousins is unwarranted.

After all, they really don't know anything.

But she is Rose Weasley, and if there is one thing that is absolutely certain, it's that Rose Weasley is a bitch.

And she fucking knows it.

"And how is dear Alby handling the fact that his piece-of-shit ex-girlfriend likes to fuck random blokes in his bed?"

Rose's voice is dripping with condescension, but once again, Lily chooses to ignore it.

Instead, a shallow laugh escapes her lips. "Angel and I visited Al last night. Grace is long gone. According to Pauline McGrout, she's already shacked up with the broom shop manager in his tiny Knockturn Alley flat."

"He lives in Knockturn Alley?"

Rose sits up straight, a flat look of disbelief on her face.

"Yes," Lily replies in a pensive voice. "Right above Borgin and Burkes."

"Tell me you're joking."

But by the look on Lily's face, Rose can tell that her younger cousin is not joking.

So not only does Al have trauma from catching his darling Grace Evers cheating on him in his own bed, but he now has to come to terms with the fact that she is not in the least bit sorry.

Rose shakes her head in disbelief.

"Broom shop boy's dick cannot be that good."

Lily snorts out loud at her comment.

Evangeline sighs, her demure hand giving Lily's knee a soft squeeze. A solemn look befalls her fair features. "Al looked absolutely awful. Like he hadn't slept in days."

"That's because he hasn't slept in days." Lily gently places her hand over Evangeline's, which still rests on top of her knee. "I've never seen him so torn up. I'm honestly worried about him being alone all the time."

Rose fails to suppress the scoff that escapes her lips.

Yes, Albus is family.

Rose doesn't stand for anybody disrespecting her family.

And while she still has full intentions to fuck with Grace Evers' new sex-toy for his blatant disrespect, she still lacks the ability to care about Albus' actual emotions.

"People get cheated on all the time," she snaps waspishly, earning her alarmed looks from both Lily and Evangeline. "He's a big boy. He needs to learn how to be alone for once in his bloody life."

Lily fixes her older cousin with a glare that can rival her mother's.

Rose expects this reaction from her; this isn't the first time they've had an argument over her resentful attitude towards Albus.

Evangeline, sensing the temper rising in her girlfriend, grabs her arm to prevent her from blasting off.

Her touch works its magic. Lily's muscles loosen slightly as she takes a deep breath. Once she exhales, she once more focuses on Rose, her expression no longer atomic, but still frigid.

"We all know that you hate Al for picking Malfoy over you as his best mate back at school, but can you please put your childish bullshit aside for one moment and… I dunno… not be a fucking arehole?"

"Oh please," Rose snaps with an exaggerated eye roll. "It's called tough love. Al could definitely use some. Plus I'm going to beat the shit out of broom-shop boy for him, so I'd say I'm playing the role of supportive cousin quite well."

"You are NOT going to beat anybody up, Rose. We already talked about this."

But Rose continues to talk over Lily, the itch in her navel slowly, but surely, blooming into something bordering on rage.

"…And I don't fucking hate him," she spits out harshly, an undeniable sting now creeping up her throat. "Y'know I don't, Lily, so it's fucked up that you would even say that. Albus and I don't see eye to eye, and we probably never will, but he's still family. I can never hate my family."

The hurt on Rose's face does not go unnoticed by Lily. Her expression softens considerably.

"I know you don't hate him. I'm sorry for saying that," she says gently, the fingers of her right hand now intertwined with Evangeline's. "But Malfoy is his best mate and I doubt anything is going to change that. You hate Malfoy, and it shows. I just—"

Rose holds her breath.

"…I just don't understandwhy you can't pretend to play nice. For Al's sake."

The two redheads stare at each other silently with guarded expressions. Evangeline's eyes flick between Lily and Rose nervously as she bites her bottom lip in anticipation.

A large part of Rose suddenly feels the desire to tell them both everything. About the Quidditch match at Malfoy manor, about Octavia Monta-Malfoy and her vendetta against her, about the rumors now spreading through the department, about… about everything that happened back at Hogwarts.

But it's just so much.

Too much.

And Rose isn't sure if she's ready to go down that road.

Not now.

Not yet.

"I…" she starts in a small voice, her usually cold features morphing into something that resembles vulnerability. "I don't necessarily hate Malfoy. I just—"

But Rose is cut off by the rich sound of their doorbell reverberating throughout the entire flat.

The three girls all exchange puzzled looks. Rarely anybody uses their front door anymore— except for shoddy potions salesmen or scam-business recruiters.

But even those occurrences are few and far in between.

"I'll get it."

Evangeline untangles herself from her cramped position on the armchair and quickly makes her way to the front door.

Rose isn't prepared for the words that come out of her roommate's mouth when she opens their front door and acknowledges their unexpected visitor with wide eyes.

"M-Malfoy!" Evangeline squeaks in a high voice. "What a… pleasant surprise?"

Fuck.

Several things seem to happen to Rose's body at once. Her internal organs are suddenly replaced with a stampede of butterflies. She feels outrageously lightheaded, and her lungs lose their ability to function properly. Her vision becomes unstable as an onslaught of unidentifiable emotions slams through her entire being.

Rose grips the edges of the couch cushion to ground herself.

She can only hope that Lily doesn't notice her over-the-top physical reaction to having Scorpius fucking Malfoy show up at their doorstep unannounced.

The younger redhead in question jumps up from the armchair, a puzzled look on her face as she looks at that certain someone over Rose's head.

"If you're looking for Al, he isn't here," she says cautiously. "He's either sulking at home or making a fool of himself at some pub."

Rose still can't bring herself to turn around.

"He's currently at the Leaky Cauldron on his third pint of butterbeer. I plan to escort him home once my business is finished here."

The sound of Malfoy's cold, yet marble-smooth voice sends a shock-wave of chills down Rose's spine.

And she fucking hates it.

Lily's brown eyes narrow behind her spectacles.

"And what business do you have here?" she presses, her voice edging on the brink of suspicion.

"Work-related," he replies resolutely. "I was hoping to have a quick word with Weasley if she wasn't otherwise occupied."

A stunned silence fills the interior of the flat as all eyes fall on Rose, who realizes that she, at some point, has to at least acknowledge their unexpected visitor.

Something in her gut tells her that whatever Malfoy is here to talk to her about isn't entirely work-related.

Still holding her breath, Rose turns her body slightly so that she can look over her shoulder and at the front doorway.

The first thing she notices, as she usually does, is the intensity that permeates his swirling gray eyes as he stares straight at her without an ounce of shame in his completely stoic expression.

Rose grits her teeth so that she doesn't flinch.

She cannot let the motherfucker know that she is intimidated.

Or is she…enraged?

Enthralled?

Maybe a mixture of all three?

She forces herself to take in his almost immaculate appearance.

She notices that he is still in his work attire- which consists of some very expensive black robes, a too-white collared shirt, and a ridiculously pretentious tie. But the left part of his collar is flipped upwards, and his tousled, white-blonde locks look just a tad more disheveled than usual.

And then Rose suddenly finds herself wondering if he and Olivia Orford managed to get anything done during today's two-hour mail sorting, or if she should expect an extra day's load of work because they were too busy fucking the shit out of each other on top of his mahogany desk.

The thought makes her bitter enough to ignore her fluttering insides and pounding heart.

After releasing a frustrated exhale, Rose tears her eyes away from Malfoy and begrudgingly pushes herself up off of the living room couch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Evangeline standing frozen by the front door with a scandalized expression on her face. She can also feel Lily's gobsmacked stare boring into the back of her head.

But she does not acknowledge either of them.

"Fine. We can talk outside" she grumbles, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "In the garden. Where nobody can see us."

Rose chances another glance at him to gauge his reaction, and immediately wishes she hadn't.

The subtle, yet mischievous half-smile, half smirk playing on his lips threatens to thrust Rose into an episode of unwelcome deja-vu.

With a scowl, she ducks her head back down, hoping that the sudden heat pooling in her cheeks will be mistaken for anger.

"For five minutes," she growls. "Not a fucking second more than that, Malfoy."

"Your house, your rules, Weasley."

She can almost hear the laughter in his voice.

Keyword: Almost.