A/N: Hey all,

So bad news first— this chapter is shorter than I wanted it to be. I was originally going to cover the entirety of Rose's first day as Malfoy's personal assistant in one chapter, but I decided to split it into two parts due to the amount of story and content I intend to cover. So essentially, this is part one of her first day, and the next chapter (which will be out shortly), will cover the rest of it.

The good news— we get some ScoRose interaction here! Of course it isn't necessarily a good interaction given what I've established of their relationship so far, but I'd like to think they're still crackling with chemistry (even if it's toxic af right now!) The next chapter will be even juicier with the ScoRose, and as the story progresses, you will receive further insight into the true nature of their relationship.

P.S.- Yes, I am aware that Rose's personality is pretty atrocious. She's written to be this way. This story is partly about her growth as a person. If you can't handle her personality, then this story isn't for you.

P.P.S. - I hope you enjoy this chapter! It definitely has some comical undertones that you will all hopefully appreciate.

Please read, favorite, and ESPECIALLY review. Reviews make me happy and they encourage me to keep going :).

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Who the bloody hell orders a black coffee with a pinch of aspen mint?

It's no surprise that Scorpius Malfoy takes his coffee black, because his soul is nothing but a black vortex of swirling shit, but… aspen mint?

What the fuck even is aspen mint?

Rose doesn't have the slightest clue, and she actually did very well on her Herbology NEWT.

She figures it must be some foofy-shmoofy aristocratic pseudo-herb that pureblood elitists use to make their coffee-shits smell like mint or some rubbish.

Pssshh.

Typical Malfoy.

And don't even get her started on the strange, oddly specific hoity-toity coffee shop she is now required to visit every goddamn morning.

First of all the name of said shop is superfluous as fuck.

Demitasse de Madame Sérena: Premium Coffee & Brews for the EnlightenedSoul

Yeah. Definitely sounds like the type of crackhouse that sells "aspen mint."

Or the perfect place to read each other's birth charts and participate in patchouli-scented orgies.

When Rose actually enters the little shop at 7:45 AM that Monday morning, she realizes that her original assumptions aren't far off.

She honestly isn't sure whether she just stepped foot into a coffee shop or a Divination classroom.

There are a multitude of drapes and tapestries of varying colors and patterns hanging from the rather low ceilings, on the walls, and over all of the circular windows. Despite the windows being covered, the sun still pierces through the mesh-like material to create large patches of golden light throughout the entire space. The jarring, yet somehow harmonic sound of a mandolin mixed with guttural throat singing emits from a charmed phonograph that sits in the far left corner of the shop.

In the open space that would presumably hold booths and/or chairs in a regular coffee shop, are instead an array of neatly placed low-to-the-ground, oriental tables all adorned with their own unique potted plant and gemstone diorama. The wooden floor is covered by green plushy pillows for 'customers' to sit on.

Speaking of the customers…

There are only two people in the shop, both sitting on their very own plushy green pillow, their coffee mugs resting atop their respective low-to-the-ground tables.

One of them is a witch with long brown dreads that fall down her back. She is wearing a purple, jewel encrusted veil that covers her entire face. The other is a pale, sickly looking bloke that may quite possibly be part-vampire.

Rose feels extremely out of place in her plain white blouse, modest black skirt, and generic grey-ish office robes.

She walks towards what she assumes to be the front counter, taking extra care not to tread on any of the pillows scattered on the floor. To her irritation, there doesn't seem to be anybody minding the register, but she can hear the mild clatter of somebody moving around in the kitchen.

The thick guttural drone of the throat singing starts to put Rose in a trance, and she begrudgingly reminds herself that she is on a time crunch to bring Malfoy his stupid cup of hippie coffee.

"Excuse me? Service please!" Rose attempts in a steady voice, standing on her tiptoes to see if she can peer around the corner and into the kitchen.

"Good morning, my darling!"

A middle aged, gaunt-faced woman with piercing green eyes and the wildest mane of black hair Rose has ever seen glides around the corner and to the front counter.

Rose blinks a few times, her brain attempting to process the cacophony of color this woman is adorned with. She must be wearing at least ten different shawls and five different ornate necklaces. Both of her nostrils are also pierced with bright green gemstones, as is her left eyebrow and both ends of her bottom lip.

"Ah, a new face!" the woman gushes, clapping her hands together enthusiastically before squinting her eyes and studying Rose with steely concentration.

"Hmm… let's see…" the strange woman wonders aloud, her eyes still fixated on Rose as if she is some sort of oddly fascinating experiment.

"Err…" Rose feels extremely uncomfortable.

What the fuck is wrong with this nutter?

They don't pay me enough for this.

"I got it!" the woman exclaims suddenly, a bright knowing smile appearing on her lips as she points a finger at Rose. "Virgo Sun, Aries Moon, Capricorn Rising. Am I right?"

Rose blinks in surprise.

Damn, the woman nailed it.

Unlike Lily and her other cousin Roxanne, Rose isn't necessarily into anything within the realm of Divination, or what her mum would refer to as "pseudo-Magic."

However, after last year's Christmas party at the Burrow in which both Lily and Roxanne forcefully sat Rose down and drunkenly described her birth chart to her in excruciating detail, Rose had become begrudgingly interested in astrology. Some things were just too uncanny to ignore.

"I—er… yes, actually," Rose splutters, still in slight shock that this woman accurately named her three main placements just by squinting her eyes at her for a few seconds.

"Right every time," the woman praises herself with a boastful smirk before extending her hand over the counter to Rose. "My name is Madame Sérena, and I am here to make the perfect cup of coffee for you and only you. Let's see… you strike me as a hazelnut latte type of person. With just a hint of lavender."

Rose blinks again and briefly shakes her hand, a bit creeped out by the fact that Madams Sérena also managed to correctly guess her favorite coffee drink— right down to the hint of lavender.

She doesn't like being read like an open book. At all.

"I'm not ordering it for me," Rose replies curtly. "It's for someone else. He wants a regular black coffee with a hint of aspen mint."

And a dash of deadly poison.

Rose almost laughs out loud at her own dark thoughts.

"Ah, you must be ordering for Mr. Malfoy!" Madame Sérena exclaims with a large smile that makes Rose twitch in irritation. "He is my only customer that appreciates a good dose of fresh aspen mint. It's excellent for your gut, y'know?"

No, I don't fucking know, Rose thinks bitterly, her head starting to hurt from this whole interaction. She knows that her unamused expression is a dead giveaway of her current sour mood.

"Just hold tight, darling. I'll whip that right up!" Madame Sèrena exclaims almost nervously, as if she is suddenly aware that Rose is not the one to exchange pleasantries with. "Give me seven minutes tops! The aspen mint needs to stew for a good four minutes."

"Sure," Rose grumbles irately as Madame

Sèrena disappears back around the corner.

However, not even a minute passes when the eccentric coffeemaker reappears at the register with a solemn expression on her face.

"Oh, it's terrible!" she exclaims in a guilt-ridden voice while shaking her head manically.

"It appears that I am out of aspen mint! I was in such a hurry that I forgot to harvest this morning's batch! I assure you that this is not a normal occurrence."

Rose pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut as she hopelessly processes her sheer lack of luck.

Of course this shit is happening to me!

This is the punishment I get for ALMOST murdering somebody.

Why would I expect anything less from the same sodding universe that made Scorpius Malfoy my boss?

"I apologize again, my darling," Madame Sèrena laments, wringing her hands together in what seems to be utter shame. "Is there anything else that Mr. Malfoy may want instead of the aspen mint?"

How the fuck am I supposed to know?

I don't even know what the bloody fuck aspen mint is!

However, instead of losing it on the obviously scandalized coffeemaker, Rose takes a deep breath and attempts a mask of forced civility.

"Do you have anything similar to aspen mint? I'm sure Mr. Malfoy will understand."

She can't help but utter Malfoy's name with biting distaste.

Madame Sèrena's face transforms from one of panic to one of inspiration. A large smile breaks out on her pierced lips.

"I have a whole batch of onyx basil that needs to be used by the end of the day! When the onyx basil is stewed, it has been known to pass for aspen mint!" she exclaims with joy.

Rose blinks again.

Onyx basil?

What the bloody fuck is onyx basil?

She doesn't get a chance to ask before the strange coffeemaker disappears around the corner once again, leaving Rose to the hypnotic onslaught of guttural throat singing.

——

It is 8:14 AM and Rose is starting to think she would rather battle a basilisk wandless than present Malfoy with a cup of coffee brewed with onyx basil instead of aspen mint. .

However, she forces these intrusive thoughts to the deepest depths of her mind so that they are far out of reach.

Rose will not let herself be intimidated by the likes of Scorpius bitchface Malfoy.

Even though her palms are slightly sweaty and her heart is slamming violently against her ribcage.

Let's just get this over with.

Holding the steaming cup of coffee with one hand, Rose uses her other to knock on Malfoy's office door three times, the sound echoing eerily through the stone corridor.

After one breathless moment, the door swings open with a prominent creak.

The sight of Scorpius Malfoy sitting at his desk and drowning in piles of paperwork, while still managing to look sophisticated and sexy sends a plethora of different emotions through Rose's brain.

But there is one particular emotion that dominates and diminishes all of the others.

Anger.

She is once again reminded that she hates him.

She hates his tousled white-blonde hair and the way it just happens to stick up in all the right places so that he looks like some fucking wind-swept poster boy for witch weekly.

She hates that snide, icy expression permanently etched on his stupid face— how the cold seeps and contaminates his steely grey eyes, turning them into frigid pools of molten silver that make her squirm and fidget whenever they fall upon her.

She hates that he's wearing a pompously sleek set of black robes that probably cost over two hundred galleons, along with a stupid wanking tie.

She hates the embarrassing fact that if this were another life in an alternate dimension, she would trace her tongue over his smooth jawline, and caress his pronounced, aristocratic cheekbones.

Wait what?

Rose inwardly blanches, utterly horrified at her brain's lack of filter. Nevertheless, she forces herself to recover by exhaling through pursed lips and stepping into the office.

The door slams shut behind her with a thud.

Malfoy still hasn't bothered to look up from his paperwork. The wanker.

Just as Rose is about to clear her throat to get his attention, he finally looks up from the pile of documents in front of him, his steely grey eyes locking with Rose's sharp blue glare.

The corners of his lips twitch up into a stupidly wicked smirk. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes? At least you're punctual."

His voice is a languid mix of silky, professional, and absolutely spiteful.

If she didn't know any better, she would say that he's baiting her.

Rose's fingers tighten around the to-go coffee mug she's carrying, her knuckles going white from the lack of circulation. But she bites down on the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from saying something stupid.

The less you have to talk to him, the better.

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow at Rose's lack of response, that wicked smirk still plastered on his face. "Not very talkative today, are we, Weasley?"

Rose glares furiously back at him, her teeth now drawing blood from how hard she is biting the inside of her cheek. If she squeezes Malfoy's hippie-shit coffee cup any more, it will crumble to pixie dust in her hands.

"Good," Malfoy concludes coldly as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head in an infuriatingly laid back manner. His grey eyes are plunging daggers into Rose. "The less we talk to each other, the better. Now give me my coffee and be on your way. I'm a very busy man."

He holds his hand out towards her expectantly, and Rose wants nothing more than to sectumsempra it off at the wrist.

"She was out of aspen mint," Rose grumbles just audibly enough for her to hear.

Malfoy cocks an eyebrow at her condescendingly as he withdraws his hand. "I beg your pardon?" he drawls nastily.

"Are you deaf?" snaps Rose venomously. "She was out of aspen mint."

"Oh, I heard you. I just don't trust you," He replies coolly, a devious undertone coating his voice. The motherfucker almost sounds amused. "Madam Sèrena has never once run out of aspen mint throughout the many years I've been her customer. So why is it that she just so happens to be completely out the one time I send you to fetch my coffee?"

Rose feels her heartbeat thundering against her eardrums as that familiar volcanic heat begins to swirl in her gut. She can feel her chest constrict while her vessels struggle to pump blood into her fingers, which are clenched into white fists around his blasted coffee mug.

And he's just sitting there in his stupid armchair like some sort of tyrant, smirking evilly at her, his dangerous silver eyes baiting her, goading her, daring her… daring her to fuck him up.

A dangerously manic smile creeps onto Rose's snide face. When she speaks, her voice is uncharacteristically cheerful.

"Well, Madame Sèrena told me to tell you that she is very sorry, but she forgot to harvest this morning's batch of aspen mint, which normally wouldn't be a big deal since nobody else likes bloody aspen mint in their coffee except for a certain pompous ferret who thinks the world revolves around him and his shitty coffee preferences."

In the back of her mind, Rose understands that she probably shouldn't shit-talk her boss to his face. Especially with her career on the line.

But something about Scorpius Malfoy just sets her off. Her consistently impulsive need to fight him is similar to fiendfyre in that once it starts, it is almost impossible to stop.

Malfoy just smiles darkly at her, shaking his head with a condescending amusement that makes Rose's blood boil. "Now I definitely know you're lying. Madame Sèrena has never once called me a 'ferret.' So you can drop the act and tell me what's really wrong with my coffee."

Oh, the the fucking nerve.

"Maybe Madame Sèrena doesn't like you as much as you think she does," snarls Rose cruelly. "You'd be surprised at the kind of shit people call you behind your back. At least I'm kind enough to say it all to your stupid face."

"My feelings are so hurt. How will I ever recover?" deadpans Malfoy as he oh-so-dramatically rolls his eyes.

Then all amusement is dropped as he leans forward and fixes Rose with a coldly malicious glare that makes the hairs on her freckled arms stand on end.

"Why am I not surprised that you are as insufferably childish as ever, Weasley? Even with your fragile career on the line and your reputation in shambles, you just cannot resist acting like a hideously spoiled brat. I have been nice to you so far, even though I really don't have to be given your ludicrous behavior. Now, for once in your grossly pampered life, be a doll and tell me— what is wrong with my coffee?"

The tension between the two glaring parties is so thick that anyone hypothetically walking into the office at this exact moment would probably choke.

After what seems like a jarring, treacherous lifetime, Rose blinks once and replies in a dangerously low voice:

"Onyx basil. She put onyx basil in your coffee instead."

Malfoy adopts a skeptical expression upon his cruel face a he asks:

"What the bloody hell is onyx basil?"

And just like that, something inside the rational portion of Rose's brain snaps in half.

Before she can fully comprehend her own actions, the temperamental Weasley holds Malfoy's hippie-shit coffee mug out over his desk and flips it over, pouring its steaming black contents all over his piles of paperwork.

Rose locks eyes with Malfoy as she moves her hand around with relish, spreading the contents of the spilling coffee over every inch of his desk. He glares back at her wordlessly, his narrowed grey eyes challenging her, daring her to keep going.

After she has successfully poured its entire contents out, she crumples up the disposable coffee mug and then drops it atop Malfoy's soiled paper work, a nasty smile making its way onto her lips.

"Oopsie."

Malfoy still hasn't uttered a word. His cold grey eyes move from Rose to his piles of ruined paperwork. Despite the fact that she is buzzing with satisfied adrenaline, a part of her still fears (and anticipates) Malfoy's reaction to her little outburst.

The fact that he still hasn't reacted is not a good sign for her.

Rose opens her mouth to say something scathing to break the frigid silence, but she is cut short by a splatter of thick, viscous liquid hitting her square in the face.

Wait—not just her face. Her neck, her chest, her stomach, her arms… pretty much her whole body.

Rose splutters and gasps as she attempts to wipe some of the tar-like substance off of her face and eyes so that she can actually see what the hell happened to her.

She looks down at herself to see she is covered almost head to toe in a thick, ink-colored goo. Worse, the goo seems to have the consistency of caramel in that it is extremely sticky.

Not to mention the substance stinks like hell on earth.

"Wh— What the bloody fuck is this Malfoy!?!?" shrieks Rose furiously as she comes to terms with the fact that Malfoy is, once again, just one step ahead of her.

Malfoy is smirking, his grey eyes glinting with relish as he twirls his wand skillfully with his left hand. "A little hex that I invented a few years back— Mimbletonias Hexica. When used, the victim is covered head to toe with a mixture of stinksap and grindylow ink. For the color y'know? I've only ever used it on one other person, so you should feel special."

Rose reaches for her wand, unsure of whether she is about to curse the boastful blonde git, or scourgify herself. The black goop is starting to harden on her skin, and the smell is making her nauseous. She can't even think clearly.

Malfoy snickers as he watches Rose flounder for her wand. "You can scourgify yourself all you want, but just a fair warning— it stains clothes permanently. Hopefully you brought an extra change of robes because grindylow ink is charmed to never come off."

He then sets to work reviving his coffee-stained documents, his wand skillfully scourgifying and drying out each piece of paper until it looks good as new. Though his eyes are no longer fixated on Rose, he still speaks to her in that languidly wicked voice of his:

"There's only one thing you really need to understand, Weasley. I am the Head of this Department, and I make the rules here. I can get away with anything, and you will get away with absolutely nothing. Just keep that in mind, and we will get along swimmingly. Now, get out of my sight. Time is money, and you are wasting my time."

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