UPDATED AUTHOR's NOTE 3/12/2022

Okay, so given the fact that this chapter received a few reviews that expressed concern over the very toxic interaction between Rose and Scorpius (which is supposed to be depicted as TOXIC— it's not supposed to be any sort of twisted mating ritual that glorifies violence), I decided that I needed to clarify a few things about this particular piece of work and my depiction of these characters.

Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy are both very toxic, flawed people. They both have serious mental health issues that they've obviously been neglecting. Given the fact that both characters are written to have a very volatile and violent nature — their initial interactions throughout this story are going to be borderline-abusive and toxic. That's just the reality of it.

Now, I don't intend to glorify violence or abuse as anything sexy. The fact that Rose experiences intense sexual feelings towards Malfoy when he's basically threatening her is supposed to shed light on the fact Rose is fucked in the head and subconsciously associates sexual attraction with Malfoy due to some highly important, plot-developing events that will be revealed later throughout the story. They play a key role in Rose facing and healing her trauma. Trust me, it's not supposed to be depicted as something fantastical or arousing, and I definitely don't intend to shape the eventual romantic relationship between Scorpius and Rose around these borderline-violent interactions.

She has a lot of shit that she needs to work through, and let me warn you, in coming chapters— Rose's mental health journey is NOT going to be pretty, so if that sort of thing triggers you, I would stay clear of this fic. I mentioned in another author's note that one of the main themes of this story is GROWTH (whether it be Rose's or Scorpius's). I plan to have whole chapters dedicated to Rose's progress with her mental health (I'm super excited to write about her anger management sessions at St. Mungo's and how she filters through her past grievances and trauma), as well as chapters dedicated to developing Malfoy's character on a more intimate level.

I understand how reading this chapter in hindsight can raise some alarm bells for people, and you may be worried that I intend to promote and glorify their abhorrent behavior as something sexy, and that their fucked up pattern of abuse to facilitate sexual interaction will be a recurring theme throughout this story. I have no intentions of doing this, nor have I ever had any intentions of doing so with this story. I made it VERY clear that I am very well aware of Rose's appalling nature and behavior, and plan to develop this story around her breaking away from these toxic behaviors.

Let me also remind everybody that this story is a SLOWBURN. It's going to take A LOT of plot and character development before anything remotely healthy and wholesome can develop between our two main characters.

Rose and Scorpius are not supposed to be depicted as good people. At all.

In fact they're depicted to be especially shitty— to themselves, to each other, to the people around them. How can two ridiculously unhealthy and unhinged people with a plethora of unresolved issues regarding the other possibly have a "healthy" interaction completely devoid of toxicity at this stage in the game? With how these characters are written, it just wouldn't be realistic to the story. But like I said, just because I am trying to keep the interactions between my characters realistic— that doesn't mean I intend to glorify and promote their abusive relationship as it stands right now. (Because it is no doubt abusive and toxic right now— as it's supposed to be!)

So basically what I am trying to say is— if you're going to dedicate yourself to sticking with this story, you'll have to be prepared for the harrowing, bumpy, and at times painfully disconcerting ride. This particular fiction isn't for everyone, and can very well trigger some of the more sensitive folks.

If it's all too much for you or the heavy themes leave you with a bad taste in your mouth, then you can kindly go find another piece of fiction to read. There are plenty of cute, lighter-toned ScoRose fics out there!!

I just wanted to tack this on here before I received yet another review expressing concern over Rose and Scorpius's very toxic interaction. I do not condone violence or abuse in any way, and I just wanted to make it absolutely clear that the nature of their eventual sexual relationship will NOT follow a pattern of toxicity and abuse. Nevertheless, both Rose and Scorpius are highly toxic and abusive people on their own, so there will be other triggering scenes similar to the one at the end of this chapter, and if don't like that, then again… there are plenty of other cute ScoRose fics to read.

I want to especially give a thanks to all the reviewers who took the time to encourage me to keep writing despite some of the grief I received for this chapter. You really made my day and I can't thank you all enough.

With that being said,

Happy reading.

-Everlasting Faerie Light.

P.S. Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter.

—March 3rd, 2022 ~~ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Fifth Year—

Rose could barely see through the onslaught of tears pouring from her eyes as she ran as fast as she could, her feet treading steadily and swiftly over rock, mud, and grass to carry her as far away from the castle as possible.

She veered towards the area of the black lake surrounded by a grove of thick gnarled trees, her chest burning from a combination of aggressive physical exertion, adrenaline, and utter humiliation.

The day had barely even started, and it was already proving to be one hell of a ride for sixteen-year-old Rose Weasley.

And not the good kind.

It was seven AM on an otherwise beautiful Thursday morning, and her very first boyfriend Patrick Fitzgerald decided to coldly and bluntly dump her sorry arse in the middle of the Gryffindor common.

He had two main reasons for his decision:

One, his need for physical intimacy went beyond snogging and hand holding (aka Rose wasn't willing to "put out").

And two, he didn't want to date a "mean bitch" anymore.

At first, Rose was too taken off guard to be angry.

They had been dating for three months, and as far as Rose was concerned, things were going really well between her and Patrick. They were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, both passionate and headstrong when it came to their opinions and views— which seemed to align for the most part, he was a very sexy seventh year with a hot bod, and he had one of the cutest smiles Rose had ever seen.

Plus, she absolutely loved snogging him.

Just snogging though.

Maybe some above-the-waist fondling here and there.

The idea of going beyond "second base" made her feel incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.

While a majority of her hormonal, fellow teenage classmates were already taking turns shagging each other in the room of requirement, Rose just wasn't ready to have sex yet.

Not only that, but Patrick had repeatedly reassured her that they could take it as slow as Rose wanted to when it came to the physical aspect of their relationship, and that their lack of sex life wouldn't change how he felt about her.

Needless to say, his sudden change of heart gave her mental and emotional whiplash.

Rose didn't know how to handle the unfamiliar, brutal sting that came with her very first broken heart.

So out of the plethora of emotions she felt swirling around violently in her gut, she attached herself to the one she understood best.

Anger.

She slammed her fist into Patrick Fitzgerald's face, effectively breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.

But she didn't just stop there.

She hit him again.

And again.

And again.

And again…

She hit him until he was cowering in a legitimate mixture of pain and fear, his arms covering his face in an attempt to shield himself from her relentlessly sharp blows.

After a solid minute of striking him with all her might, Rose aimed one last kick to his shin that sent him falling to the ground yowling in pain (a sound that would undoubtedly wake the whole bloody Gryffindor common room), before turning swiftly on her heel and bolting out of the portrait hole.

She didn't stop running— not even as her lungs protested due to her uneven, trembling breaths.

The tears started falling by the time she had reached the entrance hall.

And then they were in full force as she plunged herself into the thick patch of trees that hugged the far less traveled, southern edge of the black lake.

Rose trampled through thick brush and over uneven ground as the shade of gnarled branches enveloped her, shielding her from the pre-springtime sunshine.

She had a specific destination in mind, and she wasn't going to stop running until she got there.

After what seemed like a treacherous lifetime, Rose came upon a small clearing amongst the thick maelstrom of branches.

She faltered her aggressive pace to a light jog as she entered the clearing.

The uncharacteristically bright pre-springtime sun reflected off the surface of the black lake, making it look as if some celestial being had sprinkled it with a healthy dose of fairy dust.

The water lapped gently against the grassy shoreline, which was lined with a stunning array of bright purple flowers that Rose had only ever seen grow here at this particular spot.

Amongst the soothing sound of gentle waves was also the sound of rushing water from a seasonal creek that cut a prominent crevice through the grassy earth, and emptied all of winter's snow melt into the black lake.

While Rose had a very clear view of the open space before her that led to the distant tree-covered mountains, this spot in particular was extremely private in that this area of the lake's shoreline was surrounded by such a dense splattering of gnarled trees that the entirety of the castle, which could usually be seen from almost any part of the grounds, was completely hidden from view.

Plus, not a lot of people knew about this particular spot. Unless you were the type of person to trample through brush and bramble for fun like Rose. Or an outdoor enthusiast like Lily.

The heartbroken Weasley finally stopped when she reached the very edge of the lake, heaving big gulps of air in an attempt to calm her pounding heart.

Her mind reeled uncontrollably as she recollected her thoughts and processed what the hell just happened.

Patrick Fitzgerald dumped her.

He dumped her because she wouldn't have sex with him, and because she was a "mean bitch."

And then she proceeded to prove his point by beating the literal shit out of him.

Rose couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

Fuck.

She did it again.

And she had been doing so well this year.

Intermittent explosive disorder.

That's what Healer O'Malley diagnosed her with during her first year— along with a very prevalent case of OCD.

It was just over five years later, and it seemed that her weekly anger management sessions at St. Mungo's were finally starting to have some payoff.

However, when push came to shove, Rose just couldn't control herself when she started to see red.

And she had just been dumped for the first time in her entire life.

Rose couldn't help it.

She let out a strangled sob as a fresh onslaught of tears blurred her vision. She fell to her knees and let it all out, her anger morphing into a piercing sadness marked by regret, dejection, and of course… self-loathing.

Rose hated a lot of things, but she hated herself most of all.

Her shoulders shook uncontrollably with violent sobs as she clutched fistfuls of grass. Through her sniffling and shuddering breaths, Rose fixated on a particular patch of purple flowers, her eyes tracing repetitive, imaginary patterns amongst the petals as a way to deflect the violently intrusive thoughts hammering against her reeling brain.

"Rough day, Weasley?"

Rose froze, her stomach lurching unpleasantly at the familiar sound of that ice-cold voice.

After a few seconds of registering the fact that Scorpius Malfoy had just seen her at one of her most vulnerable mental states, she immediately jumped to her feet, furiously scandalized, and turned to face the bane of her existence, wand in hand with every intention to strike.

But, uncharacteristically for Rose Weasley, she faltered at the sight of him.

Scorpius Malfoy leaned languidly against the thick trunk of a crabapple tree no more than six feet away from her with his arms crossed, a dark expression etched on his cold, pale face.

There was something… off about him.

He looked as if he hadn't slept a wink, judging by his disheveled robes that clearly hadn't been changed since yesterday, and the prominent dark circles under his silver eyes.

Speaking of his eyes… he looked as if he had been …

Dare she say it— crying.

Rose hurriedly wiped the tears from her eyes and dropped the pathetically heartbroken expression from her face, instead replacing it with a harsh combination of defiance and anger.

"Why the fuck is it that whenever I need a goddamn moment alone, the universe just has to send you in to ruin it?"

While her words held a significant amount of frigid resentment, her voice lacked its usual fiery bite. She didn't know why, but the sight of a disheveled, sleepless, possibly emotional Scorpius Malfoy unnerved her.

Malfoy was supposed to be made of ice cold steel, after all. How else would he have been able to outdo and outsmart the formidable firecracker known as Rose Weasley for the past five years?

Not by having real human emotions, that's for fucking sure.

"I could ask you the same question," Malfoy hissed back at her, the corner of his lips tilting up into the ghost of a smirk— though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's almost as if the Universe is trying to tell us something."

"Like what, exactly? That we are both meant to be perpetually miserable?" Rose deadpanned with a soft snort, her bleary blue eyes falling to her feet before flitting over the crystalline surface of the rippling black lake.

She found it rather difficult to look at Malfoy right now.

And not for her usual reasons.

"The universe doesn't do that to us. We both do that to ourselves. Perpetually miserable people will always be perpetually miserable."

Malfoy's words caused Rose's gaze to snap back to him, her eyes narrowing at him as her lips curled up into a cold smirk of her own. "Go ahead and speak for yourself, Malfoy, but I am not a perpetually miserable ferret like you."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a mild look of amusement passing over his aristocratic features. "You're the one who admitted it first, Weasley. Contradiction doesn't make for a reliable narrative."

"So you admit it too, then? You are perpetually miserable."

Rose studied him with guarded eyes as she awaited his response. He stared back at her, stoic and unmoving from the crabapple tree, a grim expression now gracing his features. The intensity of Malfoy's molten silver eyes made the hairs on Rose's arms stand on end.

A part of her wondered why the hell she didn't feel that familiarly aggressive need to hex the shit out of him every time he so much as glanced in her direction, let alone speak to her. Why the hell was she humoring Scorpius fucking Malfoy with a civilized conversation?

Merlin…

Heartbreak made teenage girls do strange things.

A dark, almost sadistic smile made its way onto Malfoy's lips as he finally graced Rose with a response, his steely eyes never once leaving her harsh blue glare:

"Misery loves company. And we both know I love it when you're miserable with me, Weasel-bee."

Rose couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh as she ripped her gaze away from his, but she didn't bother humoring him with her usual biting response. Instead, she sat herself down atop the soft green grass, facing the lake with her legs criss crossed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the outline of Malfoy's lean silhouette.

A silence broken only by the rushing of water and occasional bird call fell between them as the two teens stared out at the shimmering lake, the early morning sun rays dancing gracefully across its crystalline surface. Rose couldn't help but release a subtle, appreciative breath at how beautiful the sight before her was.

This was…weird. To say the least.

She was extremely unnerved by how comfortable she felt as she sat in peaceful silence, appreciating this particular hidden lake spot with none other than her arch nemesis, Scorpius-fucking-Malfoy.

"To be honest, I never thought I'd live to see the day that a soulless harpy such as yourself actually sheds real tears," Malfoy quipped with mirth, effectively shattering all sense of tranquility. "What's got your bludgers all rogue? Trouble in paradise, I assume?"

Rose immediately bristled at his blunt words. She once again grabbed fistfuls of grass to prevent herself from losing all semblance of self control, and snapped her head to the side to glare venomously at Malfoy, who was still leaning against that goddamn crabapple tree with a stupidly gloating look on his handsome face.

"Y'know… I was almost starting to tolerate your presence before you opened your mouth," she snarled. "I almost forgot you were there, which in turn almost made me forget how much I want to gut you like a pig and feed your entrails to a pack of grindylows."

"So I'm right then," Malfoy pressed relentlessly, his lips still twisted in dark amusement. "Let me guess— Fitzgerald dumped you because he's a blockheaded, horny bloke that wants to date a nice girl who'll actually fuck him."

Rose just stared at him in furious astonishment.

How the bloody hell was he always right?

She hated that he was right.

"You don't know shit about me or my relationship, Malfoy, so stop pretending like you do," Rose snapped as viciously as possible, though the usual heat in her voice faltered considerably.

Malfoy just shrugged nonchalantly, though he still had that stupid gloating smile on his face that made Rose want to serve him a sizable knuckle-sandwich.

"I'm only making assumptions based on what I know. After all, the rumor mill runs hot on these grounds," he remarked slyly, clearly enjoying Rose's discomfort.

"Oh?" spat Rose, narrowing her eyes dangerously. "And what type of rubbish is churning through this so-called 'rumor mill?'"

Malfoy's ice-cold smirk deepened even more. "It's no secret that you haven't shagged Fitzgerald since you've been together, and it's absolutely no secret that he was becoming increasingly frustrated. Also— based on the fact that only two nights ago, I personally witnessed him sneak into the room of requirement with Geraldine Summers— who happens to be the bubbliest, nicest, and probably horniest girl in this entire school—along with the fact that you were just bawling your eyes out mere moments ago, I can only come to the conclusion that you two either had an earth-shattering row or you two are finished."

Rose felt a sudden bout of nausea slam through her body at Malfoy's revelation.

Patrick Fitzgerald and Geraldine Summers were caught sneaking into the room of requirement two nights ago?

Rose vaguely remembered Patrick canceling their date on that specific evening because he claimed that he was falling behind in studying for his N.E.W.T.s, and desperately needed to catch up.

And of course, Rose fucking believed him.

Even though the only thing he desperately needed to do was impale Geraldine Summers with his cock.

The devastated Weasley's eyes burned as another onslaught of tears threatened to overtake her. But she wouldn't let them fall.

Not in front of Malfoy.

Instead, she glared daggers at the blonde git, her eyes focusing in on the bags under his bloodshot, suspiciously waterlogged eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing out here at this hour looking like absolute shit then, Malfoy?" she sneered. "It doesn't take a genius to see that you haven't slept a wink, and that you've been crying your pathetic little eyes out. What's the matter? Did the love of your life run off to suck some random cock, again?"

The gloating smile immediately fell from Malfoy's face. His limbs stiffened as his silver eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

Rose couldn't help the small triumphant smirk that snuck its way onto her freckled lips.

Bingo.

It was no surprise that Octavia Montague was once again, unfaithful to Scorpius Malfoy.

It all started in their fourth year. About a month after they first started dating, the infamously attractive Slytherin couple had one of the biggest rows the school had ever seen over the fact that Malfoy caught his precious Octavia Montague swapping spit with Lysander Scamander in a broom cupboard.

That row ended in a very public and very messy breakup that had the school reeling with gossip. And then the rumor mill was on fire once again when only two days later, Scorpius Malfoy was seen snogging the living daylights out of Maribel McCormick in the courtyard.

Of course, little Miss Octavia Montague couldn't stand the idea of her man (who technically wasn't even her man anymore) snogging the shit out of some bimbo that was not her, so she threw a fantastic fit, tossed Lysander to the curb, hexed the living shit out of Maribel McCormick, and got back together with Malfoy.

And that was the pattern of their "relationship" for the past year and a half.

They were that inseparable, unstoppable, pureblood power couple that nobody dared cross…until Octavia Montague ran off and opened her legs for some poor random bloke when she got bored, which would inevitably result in Malfoy seeking out his revenge by hooking up with the next cute girl that gave him googly eyes.

Then of course, when news of Malfoy's latest revenge-fueled sex-capade reached Octavia, she would work her ice-bitch magic and throw her pathetic little fits to win Malfoy back. The two would reconcile and proclaim their love for each other, while shamelessly leaving a trail of broken hearts behind.

And it happened again.

And again.

And again.

While Rose wasn't keeping count, she could recall maybe eight different occasions over the past year and a half that Octavia Montague and Scorpius Malfoy had broken up and gotten back together due to Octavia's infidelity and Malfoy's vengeful rebound tactics.

Rose couldn't help but prod just a little bit further. Picking on Malfoy was an almost welcome distraction from the fact that Patrick Fitzgerald had cheated on and broken up with her.

"What did Albert Einstein say about the definition of insanity again? Let's see— oh, right! It's doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

"Then, by that definition, you are a fucking lost cause," snapped Malfoy dangerously, the little color he did have in his pale cheeks draining from his face. She had obviously hit a nerve.

"How many times have you thrown fits and beaten the absolute bollocks out of people just because you didn't get your way? How many times have you landed yourself in detention because you're a perpetually miserable, spoiled bitch who will never understand the fact that violence won't get you what you want?"

Rose was almost surprised that she didn't feel that usual red-hot flash of anger that would have caused her to sink her claws into Malfoy's jugular for saying such things to her.

Maybe it was the fact that she had exhausted all of her explosive anger for the time being when she had attacked Patrick Fitzgerald mere moments ago, and now all she could feel was the melancholic ache of her heart and the dreaded sensation of regret for being such a psychotic bitch.

Maybe it was the fact that Rose considered this hidden area of the lake to be sacred on some level. She didn't want to taint it with some petty, but inevitably violent argument with Scorpius Malfoy.

In fact, Rose was feeling uncharacteristically empathetic as she looked away from Malfoy and back out into the black lake. She repositioned herself so that she was hugging her bent legs to her chest, her chin resting atop her knees as she stared out at the breathtaking scenery before her.

"Who was it this time?" she asked, her voice low, but soft.

Scorpius Malfoy was no doubt taken aback by Rose's lack of reaction. He studied her with his steely eyes cautiously from the crabapple tree for a silent moment before he decided to humor her with an answer.

"Marcus Finnigan."

Rose snorted out loud.

For a self-proclaimed, Slytherin pureblood princess, Octavia Montague sure loved to hop on some Gryffindor dick. Rose wouldn't be surprised if the bitch went for Patrick Fitzgerald next. Or James Potter. After all, he would be stupid and horny enough to do such a thing.

Rose inwardly shuddered at the thought of her older cousin getting it on with the two-timing slag.

"And who will it be for you this time, Malfoy? MaryAnn Watkins? Sarah O'Neil? Dominique Weasley?" She challenged him, enunciating the last name with a dangerous emphasis as she turned her head towards him once again to fix him with an icy glare.

Rose only brought up Dom because the stupid bitch had developed an intensely obvious crush on Scorpius Malfoy, and was hell-bent on getting into his trousers once he and Octavia had their next "break-up." Rose wanted to make it very clear to Malfoy that if he so much as looked at any of her female cousins funny, she would send him to St. Mungo's in a matchbox.

Malfoy sneered at her. "First of all, why the bloody fuck do you care? And second, definitely not Dominique. Al would have my head, and I'm not the type of bloke to casually shag my best mate's cousin."

Rose's nose wrinkled when Malfoy referred to Albus as his "best mate," but she didn't say anything on the matter, having exhausted her insults regarding the topic years ago. Plus, she had completely given up. It was no secret that Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, and Damon Zabini were the inseparable Slytherin triad of the school, and that there was no room for a fourth in their triad, let alone a Gryffindor that picked a fight with Scorpius Malfoy every chance she got. Not that Rose would ever want to be best friends with them or anything. Gits.

Instead, another candid thought regarding Malfoy's toxic relationship with Montague escaped Rose's lips before she could stop herself.

"You must really be in love with her if you keep taking her back, even after everything she's done to you. I can't imagine what it's like to love someone as vile and as cruel as Octavia Montague. I feel sorry for you."

And as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Rose realized that she meant them wholeheartedly. As she studied his pale face and those silver eyes that so desperately tried to shield his bitterness and grief, Rose felt an unmistakable surge of sympathy for Scorpius Malfoy within the desolate caverns of her hardened heart.

The curly-haired Weasley looked away from Malfoy's lean figure before he could fully register her words, and stared out at the distant snow-capped mountains that bordered the other side of the lake.

An oddly electric silence fell between the two teens as they stared out at the scenery before them wordlessly, the sounds of rushing water, rustling leaves, and birdsong melding together to form an oddly rhythmic hymn that permeated the space around them.

After a few tense moments, Malfoy's voice finally broke the silence.

"Fitzgerald is a wanker," he said with an icy tone of finality. "He should have never led you on if he was expecting you to give him more than you were willing to give. You should never feel pressured to shag anybody if you aren't ready for it. You're better off without him."

Completely shocked, Rose turned her head to stare at him suspiciously.

Did Scorpius Malfoy just try to comfort her?

Did hell freeze over?

Did You-Know-Who return or something?

What the actual fuck was happening?

"I don't need you to tell me that, Malfoy. I already figured that part out for myself," Rose snapped at him in a flat voice, still recovering from the puzzled bewilderment of having him actually try his hand at reassuring her. "You, on the other hand, need a whole choir of idiots telling you that you should just break up with Montague for good. Haven't either of your so-called best mates bothered to tell you that you would be far better off without her?"

A cold smile formed on Malfoy's lips as his steely silver eyes filled with a dark, grudging malice that sent an unpleasant shiver down Rose's spine.

"Like I said earlier, Weasley. Perpetually miserable people will always be perpetually miserable."

—July 2032 ~~ Department of Magical Games and Sports, Present Day —

It's five minutes until three, and Rose wonders if Mrs. Bitchface Malfoy is still with her shithead of a husband in his office doing Merlin knows what.

Probably fighting or fucking. Or both.

Unfortunately for poor Rose Weasley, she will have to be the one to interrupt their little fight-and-or-fuck session so that she can help Malfoy sort through his bloody mail for two hours straight.

As per her signed contract as his administrative and personal assistant.

Fuck this job.

Rose blows a stray red curl out of her face in agitation, taps her wand one last time to make sure that all of her completed documents are correctly filed, and begrudgingly gets to her feet.

Home stretch, Rose. You can do this. Just don't talk to the wanker, and everything will be fine.

As she exits her office and slowly makes her way down the stone corridor, Rose cannot help the swell of butterflies fluttering incessantly in her gut. She takes a deep breath to calm her nerves, but she can still hear her heart beat rapidly against her eardrums.

When she finally reaches Malfoy's office, she extends her hand to knock, but freezes when she hears the unmistakable sound of both Octavia and her darling husband arguing heatedly with each other from the other side of the mahogany door.

"Her application for employment was approved by the wizengamot before I accepted the position. I had no say in the matter."

Judging by the dangerous undertoneone coating his slick voice, Scorpius Malfoy is undeniably angry.

"Now listen here, darling," Octavia shoots back. "I looked past your silly little affair with the Puddlemere United seeker last year, and I am looking past it again with that old hag of a Department Recruiter. I have been nothing but a considerate and understanding wife to you, always putting up with your ugly little sluts and your constant bullshit-"

"You have the nerve to talk to me about 'ugly little sluts' and 'constant bullshit!?'" Malfoy sounds as if he wants nothing more than to cause physical harm to the deadly vixen.

"Tell me…" he spits venomously, his voice thick with anger. "Where the fuck were you last night, Octavia? Wait, let me guess- you were 'healing Rowle's erectile dysfunction.' Or perhaps you were getting your arse defiled by Travers again? Maybe you were even getting double stuffed by Avery and Rogers behind the dumpster at Borgin n' Burkes. You really seemed toenjoy that last time."

"How dare you speak to me like that!" shrieks Octavia almost hysterically. "None of that meant anything to me- just like your cute little affairs don't mean anything to you; so I'm willing to look past them. But I do have boundaries, Scorpius, and as my husband, it is your duty to fucking respect them!"

"And why the fuck should I respect any of your bloody boundaries if you have never once respected any of mine?!" hisses Malfoy, his voice completely devoid of compassion.

"Get rid of her. I'm serious, Scorpius."

"Like I just said, sweetheart, the decision to hire her was made by the wizengamot before I took this position. I cannot just fire her without a probable cause. Especially not when her mum is the Minister, herself."

"Then create a probable cause. I fucking mean it."

"You may kindly go fuck yourself."

Yikes.

Rose is almost afraid to knock.

It seems that marriage has done little to improve the infamously novel-worthy relationship between Scorpius Malfoy and Octavia Monta-Malfoy.

Though Rose already figured as much, given the fact that she had personally witnessed Malfoy shamelessly devour the pretty face of another woman only a few hours ago.

It also seems that little Miss Octavia Malfoy isn't very happy about the fact that Rose now works in this department as her husband's personal assistant.

Nevertheless, it is now exactly three o' clock on the dot, and because of her highly disruptive case of OCD, along with simply being the daughter of Hermione Granger, Rose cannot stand the idea of being anything short of punctual.

So she takes a deep breath and raps her knuckles sharply against his office door three times.

The voices on the other side of the door immediately cease, and after what seems like a thunderous lifetime, Rose can hear the familiar creak of the mahogany door swinging open swiftly.

Malfoy is sitting at his desk, looking as suave and as professional as always- apart from the bone-chilling glare stamped on his pale face. And standing in front of his desk with her back to Rose is the ever-beautiful Octavia Monta-Malfoy, her neck craned over her shoulder, wearing a deadly look directed at the blithering idiot (aka Rose Weasley) with the nerve to interrupt her and her darling husband.

Rose almost flinches when Octavia's malevolent gaze pierces straight through her flesh like a knife, but she manages to keep a straight face when she speaks:

"I'm so sorry to interrupt…"

She isn't. At all.

"...but as stated in my signed contract, it is my duty to assist the Head of the Department with answering all departmental, divisional, and personal mail at exactly three o'clock. Pardon my lip, but it is currently three o' clock. On the dot."

The ghost of a smirk passes over Malfoy's face, but Octavia looks less than amused.

However, just as she opens her mouth to say something particularly nasty to Rose, Malfoy cuts her off by speaking in a silky, languid voice devoid of all emotion:

"Punctual as ever, Weasley. You may come in; my lovely wife was just leaving."

Rose holds her breath as she once again makes eye contact with Octavia, who looks as if she wants nothing more than to blast Rose into tiny, bite-size smithereens.

But the deadly vixen exhibits a graceful amount of self-control as she instead adopts a cruel smile upon her lips and turns her head to look at her husband once more.

"Remember what we talked about, baby. I love you, and I'll see you when you get home!" Octavia gushes in a sickeningly sweet voice that makes Rose want to hack her ears off.

After blowing Malfoy a small kiss (that he does not reciprocate), the deadly vixen turns on her heel, makes a point to purposefully and forcefully shove Rose on her way out, and then exits the office, the sharp slam of the mahogany door marking her sudden absence.

"Right," deadpans Malfoy darkly, his sharp and professional demeanor marred by obvious irritation and exhaustion as he flicks his wand, effectively summoning an extremely thick stack of envelopes to fall neatly upon his desk. "Let's just get this over with."

Rose doesn't say a word as she watches him, slightly in awe at how drained he looks from just one interaction with his dear wife. That bitch must have soul-sucking super powers.

With another flick of his wand, Malfoy summons a chair and positions it so that it is facing him on the other side of his desk. His multi-layered silver eyes catch Rose's ice-blue ones for just a fraction of a second, causing her breath to hitch ever so slightly.

He motions for her to sit, and Rose obliges, her guarded, suspicious eyes still fixated on Malfoy.

"Mail sorting is very straightforward, but extremely tedious," Malfoy says in a swift, but professionally flat tone that suggests that he is 'all business,' and 'no pleasure.' "As you probably already know, there is a daily two-hour block in your schedule dedicated to helping me sort through all of the Department's mail. That daily two-hour block will always be necessary. All departmental and divisional forms, transactions, receipts, orders, staff mail- essentially everything needs to be filtered through, signed, answered, and distributed properly by the Head of the Department and their assistant. Are you following me so far?"

"I'm not daft, Malfoy," snaps Rose, unable to help herself. Old habits really do die hard.

A small smirk creeps onto Malfoy's lips as he scoffs at her in response, but he otherwise ignores her little quip, and continues with his poignant explanation of the department's mail sorting procedure with stone-cold professionalism.

And it bothers the absolute shit out of Rose.

It bothers her that Malfoy can just- shut off. Like a fucking robot.

Nevertheless, Rose keeps her freckled lips tautly closed as Malfoy explains the mail-sorting procedure step-by-step to her in a flat, stoic voice. She swears that he is doing his best to look anywhere but in her direction.

"Any questions?"

Malfoy's silver eyes are guarded as he fixes Rose with an expectant glare.

Rose shakes her head in response. "No."

"Good. Then let's get started."

With another elaborate swish of Malfoy's wand, the large pile of letters resting on top of his desk starts to individually disperse themselves into two separate piles- one placed in front of Malfoy, and the other placed in front of Rose.

Without another word uttered to each other, the two young adults immediately get to work- opening each envelope, studying its contents, and then proceeding to take the next appropriate step, whether that be signing or replying to any important documents and placing them in the 'return' pile, processing any governmental and business transactions, such as purchases, refunds, or important departmental bills, or filtering through and sending off any staff mail to the appropriate departmental division… plus a lot of other miscellaneous junk mail that needs to be properly sorted and filed away for potential future reference.

The first hour passes in complete silence.

It really is tedious and repetitive work.

Which Rose usually wouldn't mind given that tedious and repetitive work helps keep her overly erratic and aggressive mind in check.

But the thing is…

Her emotions always seem to get a little… 'funny' around Scorpius Malfoy.

And while Rose dedicates just enough concentration to swiftly and efficiently sort through the large stack of envelopes with relative ease, the other part of her is hyper aware of Malfoy's oh-so-dominating presence which sits so blaringly right in front of her.

She can literally feel him.

And she fucking hates it.

Rose can no longer just sit in a cramped office space across from the bane-of-her-existence-turned-boss, and not say something to him.

It just isn't in her nature.

So, against her better judgment, Rose clears her throat, and opens her freckled lips to speak:

"You get in touch with Al today?"

Malfoy's molten silver eyes flicker up from his work and land on Rose suspiciously. He regards her with cold silence for a moment before deciding to grace her with an answer, his eyes returning to the document in his hand.

"No, I have not. Is there any reason that I should?

Rose snorts in response, her lips curling up into a nasty smirk as she uses her wand to place a newly signed form on top of the 'return' pile.

"Really?" she gloats with relish. "I thought that he was supposed to be your best mate. I would expect my best mate to reach out to me when something significant and life-changing happens to them, wouldn't you?"

Malfoy looks back up at her with dangerously narrowed eyes, a condescendingly twisted smile appearing on his lips. "Are you actually still jealous of our friendship, Weasel-bee? After all these years? My, my. What a sad, emotionally underdeveloped life you live."

Rose feels her chest constrict as she glares vehemently at the blonde, smarmy git.

"Nobody lives a more miserable life than you do, Malfoy. Don't deny it," she sneers venomously at him. "And I'm not jealous of you at all. I'm just saying that if I were dealing with a rotten, fucking cheater, I would want my best mate's support."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Malfoy asks with agitated puzzlement.

"Grace cheated on Albus," Rose responds in a curt voice. "He caught her in bed with some other bloke on his lunch break."

Malfoy looks stunned for a split second before a dark look of frigid rage floods his handsome face, making him look like a pale, demonic entity. .

"What's the tosser's name?" he asks through gritted teeth, his voice thick with anger.

Rose is almost moved by Malfoy's genuine fury over Albus's dismal shit-uation. Almost.

"That information does not concern you, because I've got it handled. I've already talked to Albus about it."

A malevolent shadow passes over Malfoy's aura as he offers Rose one of the nastiest glares to ever grace his face. His patience is wearing thin already.

"You're withholding information from me out of jealousy. Stop using your cousin's grief to feed your fucked up ego, Weasley. It's pathetic."

Rose can't help it.

She throws her head back and lets out a derisive peal of laughter.

"You know, Malfoy- maybe Albus didn't come to you about Grace first because he knows that you are also a dirty, good-for-nothing, fucked-off cheater."

If looks could kill, then Malfoy would be the next mass murderer. His eyes flash as he leans towards Rose menacingly, his tightly clenched fists resting atop his desk.

"You better watch that mouth of yours," he hisses dangerously.

But Rose is unable to stop herself.

"How did the rest of your little date with Olivia Orford go? You know, while you were off at the Leaky Cauldron snogging your goddamn employee, Albus was at my house crying his fucking eyes out over filthy cheaters just like you."

Malfoy scoffs darkly, his lips curling into a nasty sneer. "So that was you I saw running out of the Leaky Cauldron today. You just can't seem to stay away from me, can you?"

"For your information, I was there first," Rose snaps vehemently before twisting her lips into a cruel smile.

"Plus, it doesn't really seem like your absolute peach-of-a-wife gives two fucks about the fact that Olivia Orford is your latest cum rag. She'd rather get double-stuffed behind Borgin n' Burkes anyway. A pathological cheater cannot win against another pathological cheater, you know."

A dark laugh escapes Malfoy's lips as he leans back in his chair, his eyes still writhing with a dangerous amount of rage. When he speaks, however, his voice is uncharacteristically calm and poised.

"My marriage and personal affairs do not and never will concern you, Weasley. Also, eavesdropping on your superior is extremely impolite and unprofessional. It'd serve you well to remember your place."

"Have you ever heard of 'Muffliato?'" deadpans Rose with scathing sarcasm as she slaps a completed document onto the 'Return' pile with unnecessary force. "And sorry, but I don't take well to having my job threatened just because your lovely-ray-of-sunshine doesn't like me very much."

Malfoy doesn't respond. So Rose opens another envelope.

"But I'm surprised, Malfoy," she continues relentlessly, unable to keep the sadistic smile from creeping back onto her lips. "She demanded that you find a 'probable cause' to fire me, and I already dumped a whole cup of coffee all over your paperwork this morning. So why am I still here? We both know you hate me, just as much as I loathe you. Is it because for as much as you detest me and find me deplorable, your stupid slut of a wife detests me even more, and you're just a twisted, vengeful piece of shit constantly trying to get her attention like some depraved child? Hmm?"

A wildly dangerous look flashes across Malfoy's face, and for a split second, he looks as if he is ready to attack Rose. But then he closes his eyes and inhales sharply, his long, languid fingers rubbing circles around his temples.

"I am going to give you one last warning, Weasley. One more remark like that, and I will fire you where you stand. I'm dead serious."

Malfoy's voice is hoarse with fury.

He has reached his absolute limit with Rose Weasley.

Rose can see it in the way his limbs tremble ever so slightly, in the way he keeps his eyes closed in a feeble attempt to tame the vicious beast within him, which is ready to strike at a moment's notice. She can see it in the way he tugs his tousled blonde hair, running his fingers furiously through it as if to rub off some of that overwhelming negative energy swirling through his body.

She has gotten him to this point many times before.

And despite the logical part of her brain begging her to tone it down and back the fuck off, Rose just cannot do it.

She cannot resist the perfect opportunity to drive Scorpius Malfoy to the point of absolute madness.

So she doesn't resist.

With fiendfyre roaring in her deadly blue eyes, Rose jumps to her feet and violently kicks her chair to the side where it falls on its side with a loud clatter.

She then proceeds to physically knock all of Malfoy's neatly stacked piles of mail over, sending important documents and envelopes flying in a disarray all over the desk and the floor.

"What are you waiting for, Malfoy?! Aren't you going to sack me!?" growls Rose with an unhealthy amount of aggression before she aims a hard kick at the base of Malfoy's desk, effectively puncturing a large foot-shaped hole through the wood.

Before she can do any more damage to Malfoy's desk, Rose is forcefully thrown against the bookcase on the other side of the office thanks to the power of a very well-performed knockback jinx.

Rose struggles to catch her breath as a sharp pain shoots down her spine, her sense of balance of perception of reality momentarily skewed from the harsh impact of slamming against the bookcase with such force.

The first thing that Rose is aware when she does come to seconds later is the fact that she can see almost every single off-gray speck in Malfoy's multi-layered eyes.

She can also see the small splash of freckles that coat his pale nose.

Why is she standing so close to Malfoy that she can notice small details like this?

Also… she realizes that she can't move.

Malfoy has her pinned against the bookcase. His towering six foot three figure looming over her five-foot-five frame menacingly. She is trapped between both of his toned arms, which are resting on either side of her head, fingernails digging into the wood of the bookcase with such unbridled malice that Rose actually feels a chill run down her spine.

The scent of his sharp cologne sends her hormones into overdrive. She feels overwhelmingly dizzy, but at the same time, hyper aware of his body movements. She can feel the way he shifts against her, how his utter closeness causes her to sink against the bookcase, its sharp ridges digging into her spine. She can feel the heat from his skin roll against her flesh like a series of slow seismic waves, the ferocity from his glare piercing into her flesh like a hot knife.

Malfoy looks ready to devour her whole.

There is an aggressively hungry look in those steely gray eyes.

Rose feels a rush of sinful heat pool in the space right below her abdomen.

She is suddenly reminded of the little wet dream she had last night.

Fuck.

"I change my mind," hisses Malfoy, his voice dripping with venom. "I decided that I'm not going to fire you after all."

His breath smells like a mixture of spearmint and lavender.

He is so close to her. Too close. Much too close.

Rose's heart slams violently against her chest. Despite the fact that Scorpius Malfoy looks ready to destroy her, she cannot control the unmistakable arousal steadily building within her core at the sight of his cruel smirk.

"I'm not going to fire you, because I realize that there is no greater punishment for you than to work here under me. Throughout your pathetically spoiled life, you've done nothing but throw your pathetic little temper tantrums to get your way, and you have never once paid any proper consequences for your actions. You have gone out of your way to drive me and others up the fucking wall, and it is obvious that you have not changed one single bit. You get off on making other people miserable, don't you, Weasley?"

Malfoy's words are both smooth and venomous, both caressing and tearing away at the flesh of Rose's brain in violent succession.

"Of course, you can always quit if you'd like. But we both know that you won't have another opportunity like this again. It must fucking kill you to have me as your boss. I can see it in your eyes, Weasel-bee. That thought alone makes me happier than fucking the living shit out of Olivia Orford on this very desk. It makes this whole mess of an ordeal all worth it to me. So no, I won't fire you, but I will make sure that you fucking regret being a pig-headed bitch. Every. Single. Fucking. Time."

Malfoy suddenly steps away from Rose so that he no longer has her pinned against the bookcase, though he still has that wickedly cruel smirk on his face.

"We both have one thing in common, Weasley. We are both perpetually miserable; and perpetually miserable people will always be perpetually miserable."