Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

Rose glanced at her watch and groaned inwardly. "Scorp, it's late. I really need to head back."

Scorpius leaned back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "Late? You've been here, what—two hours? That's not 'late.'"

"Technically," Rose shot back, narrowing her eyes, "I was supposed to be back in my office half an hour ago."

"Technically," he mimicked in a perfect, mocking cadence. "And yet, here you are, still not back in your office. Almost like you don't want to leave. Don't worry, Roe," he added with a wink. "I won't tell your beloved boss about your little rebellion."

Rose shot him a glare, gathering her bag. "If I get sacked for this, I'm holding you personally responsible."

"Good," Scorpius said with a grin. "Then you'll have time to come work at MagiTech. You'll thank me later."

Rose rolled her eyes. "As tempting as it sounds to be at your beck and call all day, I think I'll pass."

"Who said anything about 'beck and call'? You'd be at my side, of course. Equal partners," he said, his tone suddenly mock-serious. "Well, not entirely equal... I'd still be your boss."

"Exactly why that's never happening," Rose muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

As she stood to leave, Scorpius tilted his head, a smirk spreading across his face. "Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer? Another coffee? A slice of cake? It's on me, of course. Consider it my way of rescuing you from that dungeon you call a workplace."

Rose hesitated, annoyed by the fact that a tiny part of her actually wanted to stay. "As much as I appreciate the offer, some of us actually have jobs to do, Malfoy."

"Actual jobs?" he scoffed. "You mean glorified slavery." He leaned in closer with a smug smirk. "Just don't work so hard that you forget about me, Weasley. I'm much more fun than your cauldrons and nerve potions."

Rose sighed, trying not to smile. "Goodbye, Scorpius. Try not to drive anyone else insane today."

"No promises, Roe," he called after her, his voice laced with mischief. "I'm usually not a 'drive someone insane' type—except for you, love. You're the exception."

As Rose walked out of The Quill Kettle, she shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. Scorpius Malfoy was infuriating, impossible—and maybe, just maybe, a little bit impossible to ignore.

After work, she dragged herself into her small, cozy flat, feeling like she'd aged a decade in one day. Her feet screamed at her, her back felt like it had been carved out of stone, and her brain was completely fried. Magnus Sablewood, her relentless boss, had managed to outdo himself, proving he could be an even bigger thorn in her side than usual.

She kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto her worn-out sofa, groaning loudly into the cushions. But just as her eyelids fluttered shut, a sudden, horrifying thought struck her like a rogue Bludger.

"The letter," she whispered, her eyes snapping open wide. "Merlin's beard, I forgot the bloody letter."

She bolted upright, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten. How could she have been so careless? After all the back-and-forth with Scorpius Malfoy, the endless banter, and yet—she'd walked out of The Quill Kettle without the very thing she'd gone there to retrieve. Cursing under her breath, she dashed to her desk, rummaging through the mountain of parchments and scattered quills until she found a clean sheet. With a heavy sigh of frustration, she dipped her quill into the inkpot and began to write.

Scorpius Malfoy,

I hope this letter finds you well, though I doubt anything could possibly put a dent in your overwhelming self-satisfaction. As I sat down after a truly excruciating day at work, I had an epiphany: in all the delightful chaos you caused earlier, I somehow managed to leave without retrieving my letter. Yes, the letter. The entire reason for our charming little tête-à-tête. And no, before you ask, I didn't leave it behind on purpose just to have another excuse to see you. Shocking, I know.

So here's the deal: please send the letter back with Pippin (who I've been assured is no longer in a nap-induced coma). Please, for the love of Merlin, I'd rather not have this letter end up on the front page of the Daily Prophet, with some absurd headline about "shoe smells and potion fumes."

Yours begrudgingly,

Rose Weasley

Satisfied with her sarcastic yet desperate plea, Rose folded the letter with a flourish and sealed it. She turned to Pippin, who was perched lazily in her cage, looking as though she'd just returned from a weeklong vacation.

"Pippin," Rose said sharply, tapping the cage. "Time to redeem yourself."

The little screech owl blinked at her lazily, clearly unimpressed by the interruption.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Rose muttered, placing the letter carefully in the owl's beak. "Take this to Malfoy, and don't mess it up this time. Straight to him, understand?"

Pippin hooted indignantly before spreading her reddish-brown wings and soaring off into the night sky. Rose watched her go, muttering under her breath.

"Honestly, between my boss and that insufferable git Malfoy, I'm surrounded by creatures who only live to torment me."

She flopped back onto her sofa, determined to rest—at least until the next Scorpius-induced disaster landed on her doorstep.

Rose,

Well, well, it seems you've finally come to your senses and realized the importance of that letter—though, frankly, I was enjoying the suspense of just how long you'd let that little slip-up slide. It was almost entertaining, you know? Your persistent, yet inexplicable, forgetfulness. But now that you're back on track, let's make this easy, shall we?

I propose another meeting. A little lunch this time. You see, my dear Weasley, it's becoming clear that the more secure methods of communication—like, you know, actually meeting face-to-face—might be the only way to ensure these letters actually end up where they belong.

I have a lovely spot in mind: The Golden Spoon on Diagon Alley—quiet, private, just the way we both like it. I'll even make sure there's food involved to keep your precious energy up (we wouldn't want you falling asleep mid-conversation). How does tomorrow at noon sound? Consider this a friendly invitation to finalize your little task.

I'll be eagerly awaiting your reply—and, of course, the letter.

Yours,

Scorpius Malfoy

Malfoy,

You. Are. Absolutely. Unbelievable.

I cannot fathom why a so-called "busy young businessman" and heir to the Malfoy fortune is wasting his precious time—time that I'm sure could be far better spent on something productive—writing lengthy letters to a potioneer who's on the verge of a meltdown. And on top of that, you're asking for dates—dates, Scorpius. You've truly outdone yourself this time.

You know what? Keep the letter. Do whatever you like with it. It's obviously far too important for me to worry about any longer.

I am done.

Rose Weasley

Rose had managed a surprisingly restful night, but as she walked into St. Mungo's the next morning, her mind was already tangled up in frustration over Scorpius's radio silence. She'd half-expected him to at least acknowledge her last letter—or, at the very least, return the one she'd demanded. But no. Nothing. Zilch. Typical. He was probably relishing the sight of her squirming in anticipation of his next move. Oh, he definitely thought she was sitting there, staring at the door for the owl that would never come.

"Fat chance," Rose muttered under her breath, adjusting her bag and mentally steeling herself for another grueling day spent playing with cauldrons and powdered moonstone.

As she rounded the corner, her eyes locked onto a very familiar platinum blonde head striding confidently down the hallway toward Sablewood's office.

"Of course," Rose groaned, annoyance bubbling up. "Of course he'd show up here, of all places."

She stopped dead in her tracks, watching Scorpius saunter down the corridor like he owned the place, his signature smug smirk plastered across his face. For a moment, she just stared, seething in silence. Then, as if he could sense her burning gaze, he turned. His cold grey eyes met hers, and that insufferable smirk of his only deepened.

"Well, well," Scorpius called out, casually waving as if they were old friends, "Fancy seeing you here, Weasley."

Rose didn't even bother to hide her disgust. She crossed her arms and shot him the dirtiest look she could muster. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

With that same infuriating smirk, he tilted his head. "I'm here on business, of course. Unlike you, I don't waste my time playing with cauldrons and powdered moonstone."

"Don't flatter yourself," Rose muttered, rolling her eyes as she stepped forward. But before she could launch another sarcastic retort, Scorpius smoothly turned and strolled into Sablewood's office.

Rose stood there, fists clenched at her sides, glaring at the now-closed door. I swear, she fumed, if he's going to hand my letter to Sablewood, I'll—

Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching from behind. Whirling around, Rose's heart skipped a beat as she saw Sablewood walking toward her, looking more frazzled than usual. He spotted her almost immediately.

"Ah, Miss Weasley," he greeted her, not noticing Scorpius's entrance. "What brings you to my corner of St. Mungo's today?"

Rose quickly composed herself, slapping on her most professional smile. "Just checking on some ingredients," she replied smoothly.

Before she could even register the encounter, a familiar voice rang out from behind her.

"Mr. Malfoy. I'm thrilled by receiving your owl last night. Shall we head inside? I'm curious to hear what you have to say," Magnus Sablewood said, his tone dripping with a politeness that made Rose's skin crawl.

Scorpius smirked, nodded, and then shot her an infuriating glance. "Later," he said coolly, before strolling into Sablewood's office, leaving Rose standing there, dumbstruck.

Last night? Rose's mind raced. That means the letter... he actually gave it to Sablewood?

Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to stay composed. No. She wouldn't let Scorpius get the better of her.

A few moments later, Scorpius reappeared from the office, accompanied by a visibly less-than-enthusiastic Sablewood. Rose lingered in the hallway, trying to look casual while her eyes bore into Sablewood's face, searching for any sign of trouble.

Sablewood turned and spotted her. "Oh, Weasley," he said, his voice suspiciously flat. "You're around quite a bit today."

Rose hesitated, her mind scrambling for an excuse. "I... I was just—"

But Scorpius was already chiming in, smooth as ever. "Ah, Mr. Sablewood, I must mention that Rose here was one of my best friends at Hogwarts. And I'm sure you know, she was the best student in her year. You're very lucky to have her," he said with a casual air that almost made Rose choke on her own bile.

Sablewood shot Scorpius a confused look, as if unsure whether to laugh or roll his eyes, but he kept his professional mask firmly in place. Scorpius glanced at his watch, feigning surprise, and turned to Sablewood with that infuriating grin of his.

"Merlin, I must have more time than I thought. Didn't I?" he said with mock casualness. "Is this your lucky hour, Mr. Sablewood?"

Sablewood nodded stiffly, though his eyes had narrowed slightly. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Time does fly when you're in such good company."

Rose had to fight the urge to gag. Good company? The bile in her throat rose, but she swallowed it down, focusing on keeping her expression neutral. She'd seen that look on Sablewood's face before—the one that made her want to jump headfirst into a cauldron of fire.

Scorpius wasn't finished, of course. His voice oozed with sarcasm as he continued. "Well, if you don't mind, Mr. Sablewood, I'd like to enjoy a bit of luck with your favorite employee, my old friend Rose Weasley. Perhaps she could enlighten me about your duties and responsibilities here, over a meal?"

Rose's mouth opened in protest, but Sablewood's interruption was immediate. "Why not? Weasley, you can give Mr. Malfoy a little insight into your role here while you dine. It might be... enlightening."

Rose's face stiffened, and she could feel her brain short-circuiting from the sheer absurdity of it all. Of course, she thought bitterly. Just when I thought my life couldn't get worse...

But it was too late to back out now. She was stuck with Scorpius—again.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed.

Please review.