Hello all,

Flashback Chapter! (Scene takes place at Hogwarts)

Sorry for the long hiatus! Will include larger A/N next time!

As always, please read and review! Your reviews and feedback give me LIFE!

-EFL

"Feel you get closer now…

closer than you've been,

But I need you in my arms,

my eyes, my soul,

my sunlit skies."

"Panther" by Made in Heights

~June 13th, 2023 — Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Sixth Year~~

"So Scorpius Malfoy is actually single this time? Like, for real?"

At the sound of his name leaving her lips, Rose wanted nothing more than to pluck Genevieve Finnegan's doey brown eyes straight from her pretty little head.

"Wellll…" began Arabella Thomas from the other side of the dormitory, her voice dripping with relish. "Montague's tried to get back with him twice now; but he shut her down both times."

Genevieve's already wide eyes seemed to expand to the size of saucers.

"Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," Arabella replied with a wide smile, obviously enjoying the attention that came with spreading Hogwarts' hottest gossip. "He was brutal about it as well."

"He has never turned her down before. I wonder what she did this time?"

"Something fucked up I reckon."

It took everything in Rose to not snort out loud at Arabella's comment.

Though her eyes were still glued to the open Transfiguration book propped up on her knees, she could no longer comprehend the words on the page.

Instead, the memory of Octavia Montague's guttural moan infiltrated her brain like a fast-spreading virus, and she had the sudden urge to vomit.

But she kept her lips sealed shut.

As badly as she wanted to confide in another party about what she was subjected to in the girl's changing room, the words stuck to the back of her throat like glue.

Rose couldn't even bring herself to tell Estella, and she told her damn near everything.

"You know what this means, right?" Arabella inquired in a voice far too devious for the topic of conversation.

Rose couldn't help but peek at her dorm mate over the top of her open book. Her grin resembled that of a Cheshire Cat.

It took Genevieve ten seconds too long to connect the dots in her head.

"The End of Year Ball!" she exclaimed with a bubbly enthusiasm that made Rose want to hurl her textbook across the room at her. "He doesn't have a date, does he?"

"Who doesn't have a date to the End of Year Ball?"

Ahh.

Cue Dominique Weasley.

Rose couldn't even pretend to read her transfiguration textbook anymore.

Arabella's cheshire grin grew at Dom's sudden appearance.

"Scorpius Malfoy, of course," she chimed, repositioning herself on her bed so that she was facing Dom. "According to reliable sources, he and Montague are done for good. Now's your chance, Dommy."

Dominique's ivory cheeks flushed in a manner so flattering that Rose felt a surge of unjustified hatred for her cousin.

Fucking veelas.

"I don't know…" she started tentatively before slowly walking (try gliding) to her four-poster bed situated on the other side of Arabella's. She plopped down on the mattress without so much as a groan or creak from the ancient, wooden bed frame. "The ball is still two weeks away, and that's plenty of time for Scorp and Montague to kiss and make up."

Scorp?

Gag.

Despite Dom's on-the-surface hesitance, Rose didn't miss the glimmer of hope that flashed across her doll-like eyes.

She didn't like it one bit.

Since when the hell did she start calling him 'Scorp?'

"That's what we were just talking about," Genevieve piped up, that overly-enthused expression still plastered on her face. "Montague's tried to get back with him twice now, and he rejected her both times!"

Dom's posture immediately straightened at the news. "Really?"

"Positive," Arabella confirmed. "He wants absolutely nothing to do with her."

"You should ask him to go with you to the ball, Dom!" gushes Genevieve. "If anyone's got a shot, it's you."

Though Dom attempted to feign minimal interest in the matter, Rose knew better.

Leave it to her stupid, bimbo-ass dorm mates to get her cousin's hopes up.

Rose couldn't keep her silence any longer.

Slamming her book shut with a resounding thud that caught everyone's attention,she fixed Dominique with a harsh glare.

"Don't be fucking stupid," she snapped at her. "He's not going to go out with you."

A stunned silence filled the room at Rose's sudden outburst.

Arabella was the first one to recover.

"Oh yeah?" she challenged Rose with an aggravating smirk. "And what makes you say that, Weasley?"

Oh, so Dom is 'Dommy' and I've been demoted to 'Weasley?' Charming.

Ignoring the violent urge to glue Arabella's stupid mouth shut, Rose plowed on relentlessly.

"Because Albus is a crazy git, and he would kill them both if they so much as exchanged googly eyes," she barked out in a voice that left absolutely no room for bullshit. "I know it. Dom knows it. Malfoy knows it. It's not going to happen."

"Al doesn't control him," Dom fired back with a wildly offended look stamped to her face. "And he doesn't control me either. If Scorp wants to go with me to the ball, there is nothing he can do about it!"

"Except blow up the bloody school," Rose snarled back in a voice far more vicious than necessary. "I can promise you that Malfoy will not be asking you out anytime soon, so you might as well save yourself the embarrassment and keep your bloody knickers on."

She knew that her cruelty was uncalled for, but she didn't give a damn.

Plus, she spoke nothing but the truth.

Albus had already proven himself to be a crazy bastard at the best and worst of times.

And Malfoy told Rose himself that he would never go out with Dom.

Twice.

"Since when do you care what Al thinks? Or Scorp for that matter?" Dom snapped back waspishly, her fair features taking on an inhuman, bird-like edge. She didn't get angry often, but when she did, her veela heritage made itself frighteningly apparent. "You're not even friends with either of them because you go out of your way to act like a downright troll most of the time. So maybe you should just shut the fuck up, Rosie."

Rose's fingers immediately twitched towards her wand. She could turn Dom into a sack of rotting potatoes if she really wanted to, and the dumb bitch wouldn't even know any better. Her half-French, part-veela cousin may be the most beautiful of all the Weasleys, but she had an IQ the size of a teaspoon.

Instead of indulging her violent impulses, Rose forced herself to picture her mum's face, and how disappointed it would look upon hearing the news that she turned Dom into a rotting sack of potatoes.

She also had a lot to lose.

She hadn't slipped up since fifth year; but she was already on razor thin ice. Being expelled from Hogwarts and then sent to reform school would annihilate her already fragile mental health.

So Rose swallowed the beast threatening to burst through her lips, and immediately scrambled to her feet.

"Right then," she announced in a flat voice. "I'm going for a walk."

And she would've made it out of the common room without further confrontation if she hadn't heard Arabella Thomas's snide comments just as she stepped out the door.

"Merlin, she is such a fucking cunt. It's unbelievable that you two are related, Dommy!"

Five seconds later, an eruption of piercing screams emitted from the dormitory.

Rose couldn't help but smile as she slipped her wand back into her pocket.

She was grateful to Aunt Ginny for secretly teaching her how to cast a mean bat bogey hex last summer.

Without looking back, Rose made her way down the stairs, and scurried out of the portrait hole before the screaming could alert others in the common room.

The fat lady shot her a nasty look as she swung shut behind her. Rose retaliated by giving her the finger, which in turn, caused the hag to shriek in disdain. ("The nerve and disrespect of young people these days!")

But Rose didn't have the mental capacity to quarrel with a portrait. With speed and grace that could only be achieved by years on the Quidditch pitch, she sprinted down the spiraling stone steps that led out of the Gryffindor tower.

She flew down the corridors as if she were egregiously late for her most important class— though Rose did not have any classes to attend on this Saturday afternoon.

She ignored the curious glances of passing students, the disapproving mutterings of portraits, and Peeves' incessant taunting as her feet carried her all the way through the entrance hall doors, and out of the blasted stone structure that loved to suffocate her.

The sudden blast of fresh air that cascaded over Rose's face immediately doused the fire that had been steadily building in her chest.

But she was still angry.

And… confused.

Rose had never been triggered by Dominique's infatuation with Scorpius before, so…

why now?

Something tugged hard at her navel in response to her mental inquiry, but she wasn't ready to acknowledge it.

Instead, she started running.

Her feet knew where she was going before her mind did. The world around her became a blur of color once again as she flew over grass, mud, and rock towards the treeline.

She found comfort in the darkness that enveloped her as she hurdled into the grove of gnarled branches, shielding her from the looming, intrusive face of the castle behind her.

And then, there was the lake.

Vast, unyielding, and silent.

Silent apart from the gentle trickle from the seasonal stream that cut a crevice through the earth and emptied itself into the large body of water.

She slowed her pace until she was walking up to the small-too-familiar gap in the branches.

Rose welcomed the openness as she stepped out from the shadow of the treeline and onto the sun-kissed grass.

The purple wildflowers were in full-force, dotting the landscape with pinpricks of vibrant color, and the early summer sky shimmered upon the glassy surface of the lake.

With a drawn out inhalation of breath, Rose found herself appreciating the heartbreaking beauty that surrounded her.

And the fact that this particular spot was completely devoid of humanity, even on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

She sauntered over to the gnarled crabapple tree, which was in the later stages of blossoming. With another huff, Rose turned around and leaned against the tree's twisted trunk, and gazed out into the horizon.

Here she could think without feeling anxious or claustrophobic.

…or agitated to the point of rage.

I don't want Dominique to go to the ball with Scorpius.

Rose clenched her fists at the sudden intrusive thought.

"Why the fuck do you care?" she spat out through gritted teeth, glaring at nothing in particular. "Dom is a fucking idiot, and Malfoy is NOTHING to you."

But uttering the words out loud did nothing to placate the strange ache in her chest.

Her sharp glare shifted to the distant mountains that marked the horizon. With an intensity that carried the heat of the sun, Rose traced imaginary patterns over the jagged textures with her eyes, while her brain initiated an aggressive, internal lecture.

So what if you've had a few semi-friendly conversations with him during strange hours? You probably just feel bad for him because his ex-girlfriend is a literal monster. News flash— that's called having SYMPATHY. It's something that any human being has the capability of feeling, and it doesn't mean anything. You need to get a fucking grip. Dumb bitch.

But the self-beratement wasn't working.

Rose couldn't squash it.

Nor could she stop the torrential onslaught of intrusive thoughts that flooded her brain.

What if Malfoy is completely full of shit?

What if he does actually want to take Dominique to the End of Year Ball, now that he's single for real this time?

Yes, Albus would throw a legendary fit, but at the end of the day, he couldn't actually do anything about it unless he was willing to physically prevent them from attending— which would make him look like an obsessive psycho.

What if Dom asks him and he says yes?

What if they fall in love at the ball and start dating?

The pull in her navel intensified to a point where it was hard for Rose to breathe.

She knew that she was being completely irrational. It wasn't like she and Malfoy were on good terms.

Even though their once regular violent screaming matches, physical altercations, and catastrophic duels had ceased since the night she found him crying his eyes out in the bathroom, they definitely weren't friends.

Apart from the random, nocturnal run-ins that turned into dream-like conversations, her day-to-day interaction with Scorpius Malfoy was limited to snappy arguments in the classroom, half-hearted insults, and awkwardly intense eye contact.

So why should she care?

You're in complete denial, Weasley.

You care.

TOO much.

Rose groaned out loud and grabbed fistfuls of her tangled curls, the ache against her scalp grounding her to this dimension.

"Get the fuck out of my HEAD!"

"Only if you get the fuck out of mine first."

And just like that, she forgot how to breathe.

One part of her brain was screaming at the universe for its audacity, while the other struggled with the fact that Scorpius Malfoy was standing at the edge of the lake not even four feet away from her.

All she could do was gape at him, her lips parted in stunned silence.

His usual school robes were switched out for some casual beige trousers and a thin grey sweater, which made sense given that it was a Saturday afternoon.

She followed his movements as he walked in a half circle around the crabapple tree. He stopped once he stood directly across from her.

This can't be real.

But it was real.

He was right there. Solid fucking flesh and bone. Clear as day.

And the prat was smirking.

"Acknowledging the voices in your head is one thing. Actively engaging with them is another."

Rose felt the heat pool in her freckled cheeks at the sound of his voice.

Despite her quivering heart, she stubbornly refused to break eye contact.

"Talking to yourself is nowhere near as offensive as stalking."

Her voice was flat and cold— rigid.

Malfoy lifted a single eyebrow in response to her accusation.

"You think I'm stalking you?"

He matched her tone— flat, cold, and rigid, though there was an incredulous inflection in his voice.

Rose opened her mouth to retort, but the words died on her lips.

His gray eyes flashed as they narrowed in on her.

"…because I am under the impression that you are stalking me."

She couldn't help the derisive stream of laughter that escaped her lips at his accusation.

"You are full of shit," she spat in between laughs. "Not to mention delusional. You're the one who engages with me first every time this…" she motioned between the two of them aggressively with her index finger— "…happens."

Not true.

The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched up.

"And what exactly…" he mimicked Rose by motioning between the two of them with his index finger— "…is this?"

His gaze was unwavering; his stance— rock solid. Though he bore a smirk on his face, she could still feel the resoluteness behind his question.

It was a genuine inquiry.

The world held its breath— a tense silence broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake against the shore.

Nothing, she wanted to say.

She even opened her mouth to say so.

But again, the words died on her lips.

And once again, Malfoy filled the silence for her.

"Don't overthink it, Weasley."

"I'm not overthinking anything," she retorted with a tone that sounded far more defensive than intended.

Liar.

Malfoy's unwavering stare lingered on her for about three more seconds before travelling to the mountains that dotted the distance.

"Good."

Silence filled the space between them.

Rose could feel the tension resonate at the base of her sternum as she stared at Malfoy staring at the horizon.

"What are you even doing out here, anyways?"

The questions tumbled from her lips clumsily— like she wasn't quite sure whether to speak the words with aggression or curiosity.

Malfoy tore his gaze away from the horizon and shrugged.

"Same thing as you, I reckon."

"Are you incapable of giving straight-forward answers?" she deadpanned.

Malfoy laughed. "Sometimes."

But the smile disappeared from his lips as swiftly as it had come.

He slipped his hands in his pockets, and once more focused on the horizon.

"I'm just… existing." His voice was surprisingly soft. "I find it hard to do that when surrounded by people."

He turned his head and caught her gaze.

Rose held her breath as he spoke.

"Sometimes, I really fucking hate people."

Me too.

She felt the hollow ache in her chest return.

This was the first time that she had ever whole-heartedly agreed with Scorpius Malfoy.

People were draining.

And sometimes, she fucking hated them.

But Rose couldn't bring herself to admit it out loud.

She couldn't risk vulnerability. Not with him.

"So you come to this specific spot to hide from people and cry your eyes out?" she inquired, unable to keep the default condescension from her voice.

He shrugged. "More or less."

Rose shot him another flat glare, and Malfoy's rare smile returned.

"I found this place in my third year. I had just been told that my mother was terminally ill, and I needed a place to hide. Now it's a regular stop for me."

Are you okay?

She wanted to ask him so badly.

But she clenched her teeth in retaliation and looked down at her feet.

Rose suddenly realized that she didn't know how to have a conversation with someone whose mother died only months ago.

Though she faced a lot of grief in life for someone her age (most of it self-inflicted), the grief of losing a loved one was foreign territory to her.

But something in her gut told her that this was neither the time nor place to offer Malfoy her awkward condolences.

"You are the only other living person I have seen on this side of the lake," she uttered, allowing herself to look back up at him. "Except for my younger cousin Lily."

Rose was surprised at herself.

Wasn't she supposed to be guarded when it came to Scorpius Malfoy?

Honestly… did it even matter anymore?

He tilted his head ever so slightly, never taking his eyes off of her.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"When did you start coming here to hide?"

His voice was so gentle.

And it was…strange.

Rose's heart fluttered against her chest.

"Remember our fight during fourth year?"

He snorted. "Which one?"

"The one where you loudly referred to me as the ugliest girl at Hogwarts, and I hexed you so badly that you were in the hospital wing for a week?"

He nodded, his face expressionless. "Not one of my best moments."

Rose couldn't help but scowl at him.

"Even though you got what you deserved, your insult stung me more than I cared to admit. Lily found me crying in the kitchens later that day and brought me here. I've been coming here ever since."

Why didn't she feel scandalized with herself for sharing this piece of information with him?

Why was this so… easy?

Malfoy bent down to pick one of the many purple wildflowers that dotted the landscape. Standing up straight, he used his thumb and index finger to twirl it by its stem, the petals rotating in a blur of cyclic motion.

"Have you seen these flowers anywhere else?"

Rose shook her head, unable to take her eyes off of him as he concentrated on the little purple wildflower.

"No. Only here."

He stared at the tiny purple flower through another beat of silence before switching his attention back up to Rose.

His lips were turned up into a smile, and his eyes were alight.

"I got curious and decided to bring one to Professor Longbottom last year," he said, still twirling the flower with his fingers. "He confirmed that they are not native to this area, and was quite surprised that they're growing in the country, let alone the school grounds."

Rose smirked. "You sound exactly like Lily. Maybe you two are soulmates."

She was so locked into his silver gaze that she hardly noticed him moving towards her.

"Don't let Albus catch you saying shit like that," he teased. "He would have my head in a heartbeat."

And then Malfoy was suddenly leaning on the gnarled trunk of the crabapple tree next to her, their adjacent arms mere centimeters apart.

Her heart leapt up into her throat.

He was so, so close.

She could feel his body heat envelop the space around her.

And yet, Rose didn't move a muscle.

"I didn't mean it, y'know," he uttered softly.

His voice was devoid of its usual sharp edge, and the change shocked her.

She could only blink at him in wonder as their gazes locked with a subtle, yet poignant intensity.

"Mean what?" she inquired weakly.

"What I said two years ago. About you being the ugliest girl at Hogwarts."

Rose could feel her cheeks flood with lava.

She tore her gaze from his and stared out into the horizon, desperately trying to play off the fact that her heart was slamming violently against her ribcage.

What the fuck is happening?

"We were barely fifteen. That shit doesn't matter to me anymore."

Her voice sounded strange to her ears. The flat, harsh tone emitted by her vocal cords did not match the heat that simmered in her stomach.

"I figured as much," he replied, his voice still uncomfortably soft. "I just wanted you to hear it from me."

The skin on Rose's arms and neck erupted into uncontrollable goosebumps despite it being a relatively warm day in June.

Funny.

Another beat of silence permeated the minuscule space between them.

"Aren't we supposed to hate each other?"

She couldn't stop the question from leaving her lips even if she tried.

She had to know what he thought about all of this.

What he thought about her.

Rose made eye contact with Malfoy once again despite the crescendo of moths that enveloped her insides.

"I was under that impression up until about five months ago," he replied, sounding relatively at ease and unbothered by her question. "Now, I really don't know. I'm still trying to figure it out."

Rose was brought back to that cold January night where she woke up in a nauseated frenzy, only to find Malfoy having a grief-stricken mental breakdown in a bathroom stall.

Why did she stay with him?

Why did she hold him until his sobs subsided?

Why?

Ever since that moment, things between them had transformed. And Rose didn't realize just how dramatic that transformation was until…

Now.

Why were things between them so naturally intimate?

She was suddenly aware of how they must look to any random observer… both leaning against the gnarled trunk of the crabapple tree, shoulders a mere hair away from making contact, their heads tilted towards each other…

But there was no one else there to see them.

They were, once again, tucked away into a secret pocket of time that superseded natural existence—

They were 'off the record' here.

— and Rose preferred it that way.

"For what it's worth…" she began, choosing her words carefully. "I don't think I hate you. Not anymore at least."

Malfoy laughed out loud at her sentiment.

The sound of it made the corners of her lips turn up.

"I never thought I'd live to hear you say those words to me," he quipped, the laughter still present in his voice. "What's next, Weasel-bee? Going to ask me to be your date to the End of Year ball?"

Rose's breath hitched dramatically at his inquiry. With flushing cheeks, she tore her eyes away from him and once again focused on the distant mountains that dotted the horizon.

Her brain was short circuiting. A part of her wanted to ignore and play off the intrusive thoughts that hacked away at her brain— thoughts of him with Dominique, arms intertwined, both wearing color coordinating dress robes, images of the two of them dancing the night away under the enchanted ceiling of the great hall, and ultimately sharing a passionate kiss…

The other part of her wanted to hound Malfoy about his intentions— who he was going to the ball with, if he would say yes to Dominique asking him, if he planned to ask Dominique to the ball with him— no matter how irrational and batshit insane she would appear.

As impulsive as Rose was, she opted for the first option with as much grace as she could muster.

"You wish, Malfoy," she taunted, nudging him lightly with her shoulder. "Unless Estella can convince me otherwise, I'm not going to the ball this year."

Especially not if you go with Dominique.

Malfoy nodded. "I don't blame you. The End of Year ball is a complete waste of time."

She rose an eyebrow at him. "If you hate it so much, then why are you even going?"

"I can't say no to Albus's Pygmy Puff eyes ," he deadpanned with a smirk. "Even though the tosser literally has a real life girlfriend to tend to his every need, he spent a good hour-and-a-half begging me and Damon to go with them."

Rose rolled her eyes.

"Baby-bottom-bitch can't go anywhere without his boys," she drawled. "Fuck his girlfriend— he's definitely in love with you guys."

"I sure hope not. That would make things very awkward."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from her mouth.

Rose was suddenly reminded of how absurd this whole situation was, and fell into an abrupt silence.

The hypnotic sound of the waves lapping lazily against the shoreline filled the pocket of space around them.

Off the record.

"Are you going to bring a date to the ball?"

She asked the question cautiously, her voice completely devoid of its usual callousness. Her eyes were glued to the horizon once again as she prepared herself to receive for the worst possible answer.

"No," he replied resolutely. "My tolerance for drama has been extremely low as of late, and bringing a date to this blasted ball always results in drama. I'm doing my own thing this year."

The flood of relief that coursed through Rose's entire body was far stronger than she cared to admit.

She knew that her fears were unwarranted, irrational, and borderline psychotic.

But nonetheless— she was ecstatic that Malfoy didn't have his eye set on her cousin, or any other member of the female population at Hogwarts for that matter.

And that honestly scared the living shit out of her.

"So you and Montague are done for good, then?"

What the FUCK?

Every single one of her muscles tensed up as soon as the words left her mouth.

Rose could not believe she just went ahead and asked him such a tactless question— especially after bearing witness to the diabolical scene in the girls' changing room.

But the damage was done.

A darkness swept across his face, erasing the rare twinkle from his multilayered grey eyes, and replacing it with an unpleasant stoniness.

Rose could feel the visceral shift in his energy at the mention of Octavia Montague, and she desperately wished that she had kept her mouth shut.

"I'm sorry… I didn't mean—" she attempted in a weak voice, but he cut her off gently, a bitter smile on his lips.

"She is the precise definition of the drama I am trying to avoid. That is all I have to say about her."

Once again, the unwelcome memory of Montague's guttural moans flooded her brain.

Rose flinched.

A part of her wanted to tell Malfoy that she knew just how awful she was— that she was there when it all happened, forcibly crammed away in a tiny locker as the evil bitch committed one of the most heinous acts of adultery not even six feet away from her.

Based on the cold resolution stamped on Malfoy's face, however, she decided to keep her lips sealed on the matter.

"On that note, I'm taking my leave. Slytherin's booked the pitch for three o'clock today."

In one fluid motion, Malfoy pushed himself up from the trunk of the crabapple tree, and the distance between their bodies increased.

Rose suddenly felt cold.

And she couldn't deny the pang in her chest.

Despite his declaration that he had Quidditch practice to go to, she couldn't help but think she said something wrong.

Was he leaving because of her?

Because she brought up Montague?

How could she have mucked things up so badly?

Why did she even care?

This was Scorpius Malfoy she was dealing with.

However, Rose's internal panic attack was immediately placated as he turned to face her with an almost playful smirk on his lips.

"I know you said that you most likely won't be at the ball, but…"

He was still holding the little purple wildflower with his right hand. She watched the cyclic motion of the petals as he twirled it with his thumb and index finger.

"…I wouldn't be upset to see you there."

And with a final nod of his head and the ghost of a smile lurking beneath that characteristic smirk, Scorpius Malfoy turned away from a speechless Rose and made his exit.