A/N: Again, this chapter follows on directly from the last. Enjoy!

She avoided Scorpius for over a week. After all, they only shared a few lessons, and when they did Rose ensured she arrived and left with the rest of the Gryffindors, making it impossible for him to approach her. The third time she did this, she saw him scowl darkly at her from his table, but she stoically ignored his gaze. She had thought maybe he would want to avoid her as well, but from the look on his face she knew he was waiting for a chance to speak to her alone. The thought filled her with terror.

It wasn't that she was particularly angry with Scorpius. Really, he had been nicer than she would have thought possible and helped her out of a very sticky situation. And he had been comforting, and…but she just had no idea what to say to him. How could she look him in the eye after…after she had kissed him and passed out in his arms? What if he thought it meant something, or worse, what if it didn't mean anything at all to him? What if right now he was laughing about it with his Slytherin buddies? Having a good old chuckle at her expense. What if…oh frogspawn, what if he told Albus?

Eventually, he caught her. Coming out of the Entrance Hall one morning, late after oversleeping, she felt a hand grab her and pull her quickly into an abandoned classroom. She knew before looking who it was.

There was a long silence. Rose couldn't look at him.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked, cutting straight to the chase in a cold voice. Despite herself, Rose glanced at him. His hair was scruffier than normal, but beside that, he appeared as he always did, cool and proud and handsome. His eyes, though, were shining with a suppressed fury that made her quiver in her boots.

"I – I haven't."

"Don't play games with me Rose," he backed her up against the wall so quickly she didn't even see him move. She kept forgetting he was a Quidditch Seeker. "You and I both know you've been avoiding me since the party."

It was really very hard to concentrate with him so close to her, his breath warming her neck as he spoke. He had an arm on either side of her against the wall, so that she felt somewhat like a caged animal.

"I – I just wanted to forget it," she said.

It was evidently not the right thing to say. Scorpius' glare darkened. "Are you in the habit of kissing guys at parties and then forgetting about it?"

"What? No, no of course not," she stuttered, feeling irrationally close to tears. "That was – that's never happened to me before."

His expression relaxed a little. "Me neither."

"I…didn't know what to do…after."

Scorpius quirked an eyebrow. "Well I did save your skin, in more than one way. How about a thank you?"

"Th-thank you."

Without warning, he leant toward her and pressed his lips gently against hers. For a moment she was stunned to stillness, shocked both at his sudden movement and her own body's reaction to it. Her heartbeat had doubled in a matter of milliseconds and her lips were tingling. But…what was he doing? How dare he take this tremendous liberty when he, when he…she slapped her hands against his chest and pushed, tearing her lips away from his. Scorpius made a sound of frustration and stepped back. "What are you doing?" she screeched at him when she had partially recovered herself.

"Taking my thank you," he smirked, and her hand twitched towards her wand. Scorpius caught the moment and scowled. "Going to hex me, Weasley?"

Rose tried to ignore that he had switched to last names. "I will if you attack me again!"

"Attack you?" Scorpius asked, his expression murderous. "You're trying to tell me that you didn't want it? You practically threw yourself on me at the party, and – "

"I didn't throw myself on you!" she yelled in outrage. Was that how he remembered it? As her, desperate and drunk, throwing herself at him? "I slipped and fell."

"And the kiss?" He clenched his jaw. "What's your excuse for that?"

"I – I was drunk," she retorted. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"Oh of course, because I forgot it only takes a few drinks to knock you senseless," he spat, raking a hand through his hair and looking angrier than she had ever seen him.

"Yeah, well I didn't know what I was doing!" she replied, equally angry.

"Or that's what you tell yourself," he glared at her. "If I'd known it was that easy to get between your legs, I'd have – "

SLAP!

Rose pulled back her hand, breathing heavily. She had slapped him so hard across the face her fingers were stinging; there was already a bright red mark blossoming over Scorpius' pale skin.

"I…I shouldn't have said that," he croaked out. "Rose…"

"Don't!" she hissed, beside herself with rage and humiliation. Scorpius' closed his eyes against the hatred in her stare. "Just leave me alone!"

And she swept herself out of the classroom without another word.

Rose stared in disgust at the object before her. Well, 'object' was perhaps not the best term to describe what she was seeing; for, she was being reliably informed by an over enthusiastic Professor Hagrid, this was in fact a living creature.

"A Soft-Bellied Wentle," said Hagrid, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his rather enormous feet. Although older and greyer than when her parents had attended Hogwarts, Hagrid had lost none of his gigantic stature and still towered above Rose and the rest of the Care of Magical Creatures class. "They're right brillian' creatures, Wentles."

Albus, who was standing next to her, made a sound of disbelief in his throat. Rose was inclined to agree. She was looking at a slimy, off-white blob, roughly the size of both her fists clenched together, sitting like some kind of mouldy lump of dough in a wooden crate. There didn't seem to be any limbs, orifices, or appendages visible, and besides oozing a milky substance and the occasional squelching sound, there was no real indication that it was even alive.

"Well, they mightn' look like much," continued Hagrid, catching their expressions of doubt. "But don' let 'em fool yeh. Wentle's are extremely powerful…an' dangerous," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Which is why I wan' yeh all ter wear these," he held up a pair of gloves big enough for Rose to fit her head inside. "Dragon hide, ter protect yeh from the pus."

"The…pus?" said Dominique in a weak voice, shuffling closer to Rose. She snatched a pair of gloves off the ground and hurriedly put them on, her eyes fixed on the Wentle as if afraid it launch itself at her.

"Tha's righ'…who can tell me the benefits o' Wentle pus?" asked Hagrid as the rest of the students helped themselves to the large mound of gloves next to him.

"It's the key ingredient to Membrance Potion," said Scorpius, from his position on Albus' other side. Rose forced herself not to look at him as he spoke. "Used to treat Amnesia."

"Righ' you are," beamed Hagrid. "Ten points ter Slytherin. Now, I wan' yeh all ter pair up an' choose a Wentle. Pair up, c'mon."

Dominique clasped Rose's hand and together they took a tentative step towards the closest Wentle. It squelched at them apathetically. Albus and Scorpius took the one to their right.

"Now," Hagrid seemed oblivious to the class' lack of enthusiasm. "'S no' possible ter collect the pus till they're fully grown. So today we'll jus' be feedin' 'em these crushed Mugworts." And he began to move amongst the students, distributing buckets full of what appeared to be a thick black slop with the consistency of mud.

Nobody moved. "Umm, Hagrid?" began Rose, careful to keep her tone light. She knew how sensitive the gamekeeper was about his magical 'pets', having heard many stories from her parents about Hagrid's fondness for monsters, including dragons, Acromantula (Ron's face went particularly pale when the others told this story), and a three-headed dog affectionately nicknamed 'Fluffy.' "How do we feed them exactly?"

The half-giant blinked at her as if her question had never occurred to him. "Oh, righ'…well, yeh jus' rub the Mugworts inter their flesh, see," he scooped up a handful of the black slop and began massaging it into the gooey Wentle, which gave a satisfying quiver and squelched a little louder. "An' they digest it through their skin. Brillian', don' yeh think?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," whispered Dominique.

So as not to hurt Hagrid's feelings, Rose plunged her gloved hand into the bucket of Mugworts and pulled out a handful, smelling strongly of millipedes. Together, she and Dominique covered their Wentle in the substance, which really did seem to wriggle in pleasure as it sucked in the slop through its skin. It was possibly the most bizarre experience Rose had ever had, and she had witnessed in her fair share of strangeness.

"Ah, look Rosie, Dom, he's lookin' at yeh," Hagrid had come up behind them and was pointing excitedly. Rose peered more carefully at their Wentle, and saw that what she had assumed to be simple folds of flesh had indeed lifted to reveal two glassy, milk-coloured eyes. The Wentle blinked squelchily, and oozed some more slime.

"I think he likes yeh," said Hagrid.

"How come ours isn't looking at us?" complained Albus. He shot Rose a grin, and she flicked a glob of Mugwort at him in return, giggling at the look of horror on his face. But her laughter died when her gaze inadvertently travelled from Albus to the handsome blonde standing next to him. Scorpius was staring fixedly at her, his jaw clenched and an unreadable expression in his eyes. Rose flushed and looked away, but not before catching Albus' rolled eyes at her reaction.

Her cousin didn't know about her theatrics at the Slytherin party, and for that she was thankful. She had been afraid, for a while, that Scorpius would blab to him, but in the days following Albus hadn't made any indication that he knew about what had happened. Even after her and Scorpius' argument in the classroom (Rose was determined to think about it in general terms, an argument, rather than go into the specifics of what was said) Al didn't treat her any differently. Which was a good thing. She didn't know what she would have said if Albus had confronted her about kissing his best friend, let alone if the rest of her family found out. But Scorpius clearly felt it was all too embarrassing to his reputation to be spreading around. What would Ivy Lestrange or Arabella Yaxley say if they knew their precious Scorpius Malfoy had kissed the half-blood bookworm Weasley? Rose couldn't help but feel a little smug at the thought.

"You know," mused Dom, jerking Rose from her reverie. "These things are almost a little bit cute." She gave the Wentle a gentle pat, it blinked at her, and they both burst out laughing.

The end of the lesson came too soon for Rose, and the rest of the Gryffindors, who had a History of Magic revision class next, in which they knew Professor Binns would drone on endlessly while they scrambled to take notes and not fall asleep. It was a beautiful late Autumn day, the sun shining on the grounds and making the Lake glisten and the grass seem greener than ever, and all Rose wanted to do was wile away the hours at her favourite spot in the grounds until dinnertime.

She was so caught up in her daydream she didn't notice Albus falling into step beside her as they walked back up to the castle. She automatically looked for Scorpius, and found him several metres ahead of them with the rest of the Slytherins.

"Hey," she said casually.

"Hey," Al was chewing his lip. "Did you hear the news?"

Rose shook her head.

"About Nott's father," continued Albus, his voice strangely relaxed. "His charges have been downgraded to accidental wizard-slaughter."

"Accidental wizard-slaughter?" she tested the words on her tongue. "So does that mean he won't be imprisoned?" Rose was no expert on Magical Law, but the charges definitely sounded less serious than murder.

Albus shrugged. "He might still get a few years. The facts aren't really available yet and they haven't had the trial, but it looks good. I only know that much because Scorpius' Dad is working as part of the defence team."

At the mention of Scorpius Rose couldn't help but tense, but she forced herself to keep walking. "But that's great…if he's innocent, I mean. I'm sure it will all work out," and she could then safely send an owl to her mother advising that Albus was well.

"Yeah, hopefully. That's if the whole wizarding world isn't baying for his blood before he even gets to the Wizengamot," Al's face darkened. "The Prophet isn't helping things either."

"What do you mean?" she asked, not really liking the change in his demeanour.

Albus scoffed. "I mean everyone thinks he's guilty already, don't they? He's a Slytherin, he didn't fight in the War against Voldemort, he's a pureblood, and the man who died was Muggleborn…that alone makes him a criminal in some people's eyes."

"Well," she said, trying to be reasonable, "he did run away and make himself look guilty."

"And who would have believed him if he'd stayed?" asked Albus, rounding on her angrily. They had been walking slowly and were at the rear of the group of students heading back to the Castle; most of them were already inside. "What sort of a fair trial do you think he would've had when everyone's already declared him guilty by association?"

"Umm…"

"The fact is that everyone's got it in for Slytherins, especially those who went to school with our parents," continued Albus without letting her speak, his green eyes glinting. "They're blacklisted from the very start! Just look at Mr and Mrs Malfoy. They've had to work for years to prove themselves, and they still get shunned by most wizarding families."

Rose thought this was taking it just a little too far. "Well, maybe they shouldn't have done those awful things to begin with," she countered. "Al, Slytherins got their bad name for a reason. I'm not saying all Slytherins are like that, but they've got a long history of – "

"And you're just as bad as the rest of them!" Al interrupted her. "You've been horrible to Scorpius since the day you first met him, and here we are, fifth years, and you're still not giving him the time of day. It doesn't matter what he does, he won't ever be good enough in your eyes, will he?"

"Scorpius is just as horrible as his father was!" Rose snapped, losing her temper. They had stopped on the Castle steps; Rose could still see Hagrid outside his hut, pottering about amongst the crates of Wentles. "They're discriminating, elitist, chauvinistic prats, and I think you'll find most people agree with me."

Albus was glaring at her. "Whatever Rose," he said quietly. She opened her mouth to respond but he half-turned, shouldering his bag and taking a step into the Entrance Hall. "I've got to get to class."

"Why the long face?" Dominique had been annoyingly chirpy ever since she got back from her 'study session' with Calvin Davies. Her curly blonde hair was practically bouncing of its own accord. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." Rose speared spitefully into a potato. She was feeling glum and, as if on cue, everyone around her seemed to be in high spirits. Lily, Hugo and their third year classmates were engaged in an animated conversation of their most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, tackling Boggarts; she could hear their chatter and it was grating on her sour mood like fingernails on a chalkboard.

The only comparatively unhappy face on the Gryffindor table was that of Peoria Rallitt, a mousy girl in her own year who had a rather uncanny resemblance to Moaning Myrtle in her constant negativity. She was clutching a roll of parchment to her chest and scowling.

"What's wrong?" asked Rose tentatively, more to detach herself from Dom's inquisitive stare than anything else.

Peoria sniffed. "Got a T on my Potions Essay," and she thrust the scroll under Rose's nose, where indeed a large fat Troll graced the top corner, grunting and swinging its club. Rose wrinkled her nose sympathetically.

"That's too bad," she said. "Maybe next time?"

"Well it's difficult to do much better when all the teachers have got it in for me," moaned Peoria, hugging her essay against her chest again. "I am facing a constant battle of unfairness in this School because nobody likes me."

Rose was spared from having to reply by the arrival of James, who threw himself down next to her and began piling food onto his plate. He had obviously come straight from Quidditch Practice; he was still wearing his robes and was drawing many curious looks from the other Gryffindors, particularly some of the first years who were not yet used to seeing the Potters and Weasleys on a day-to-day basis. James Potter was something of a hero in his own House, more so than ever this year now that he had been made Quidditch Captain and was on track to helping them retain the Cup for the third year running.

"Heya Rosie," he grinned, brushing off the attention as if it was nothing. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," she repeated, though she couldn't help her eyes travelling over to the Slytherin table, where Albus and Scorpius were laughing at some joke. James followed her gaze and frowned.

"Al being a prat?" he asked simply, and Rose blinked, somewhat surprised at his omniscience.

"You could say that, yeah."

"Don't worry about it," said James, putting a whole baked potato in his mouth. Rose raised her eyebrows and waited for him to be able to speak again. "He's been a bit prattish to everyone lately. I wouldn't take it personally."

"He thinks I'm bigoted," she couldn't help from blurting out. She noticed Peoria leaning toward them and lowered her voice. "But I'm not. Just because I don't like every Slytherin, doesn't make me a bigot." She sent a certain blonde a withering glare, but he wasn't looking at her and James didn't notice.

"Pfft, Al's just upset because he got sorted into the worst House in Hogwarts and we keep beating them at Quidditch," James gulped down his pumpkin juice and turned to face her. "He has to pretend he likes it in Slytherin, even though I bet he's wishing he was in Gryffindor with us." He puffed out his chest and winked at Peoria, who blushed and ducked her head. "He'll get over it, don't worry."

Rose looked over to the Slytherin table again, where Al was eating his dinner and talking to Malfoy and Nott, the latter of whom was looking much healthier. He certainly didn't look like someone who was wishing he was somewhere else, in fact he seemed about as happy as a fifth year Hogwarts student approaching his OWLs could be. A lot happier than she felt anyway. Rose sighed and gave James a half-hearted smile.

"Yeah," she said, returning to her dinner. "I suppose you're right."