Rumour Has It - Seazar - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Course for Collision

Chapter Text

Deserted for most of the year, platform 9 3/4 at King’s Cross station was bustling with activity. Like clockwork, on September 1st, families began bursting from the stone barrier the moment it opened access to the magically hidden platform. With the colliding luggage carts, screeching owls, cats on an escape mission and conductors animating everyone to board, it was the perfect chaos.

Once upon a time, when seeing off her cousin James, Rose Weasley had been intimidated by this frenzy. Then as she’d begun romanticising Hogwarts, she’d become enamoured with the idea of this platform - an entrance to a new world.

Now, seven years later, it was in her blood. She navigated the bustling platform like an obstacle course she could run in her sleep. Round a toppled luggage cart here, weave between worrisome parents, nervous first year’s, eager return students, and dodge unwanted conversation - namely that of her mother whom she had escaped at her first opportunity.

Not that she didn’t adore her parents, she did, but her mum had dragged Rose, Hugo and their dad out of the house before the barrier had even opened. Among the many downsides, notably lack of sleep, the one plus of getting up at the crack of dawn was getting to reserve a compartment for her and her friends. Having spent the previous two weeks on vacation at the Mediterranean, she hadn’t seen them in what felt like an age. Although she wouldn’t spend much time there herself, a private compartment was a must.

Apparently, not everyone agreed.

Rose had assumed her inconveniently positioned trunk would keep students from trying to squeeze in, but some of the little rats hadn’t learned to respect seventh years yet. With an exasperated sigh, Rose pinned her new badge to her jumper - never mind that she wasn’t even wearing her school uniform yet. Surely even preteens would know better than to argue with their head girl over something so silly as a compartment.

Initially, she had planned to wait there, but Rose soon found herself fiddling with her badge and hair. The remaining Weasley’s were running reliably late it seemed. She trailed her route back to her parents and returned to find that her family members in attendance had tripled.

Two pairs of aunts and uncles had joined Rose’s parents; Harry and Ginny Potter and George and Angelina Weasley. The latter looked happy, which was a pleasant surprise because she had scowled through most of the summer. At least, every time the topic of Seth's graduation had come up. Or, well, the lack thereof. Seth Fredrick Weasley had not finished his final year successfully and was repeating it. Now he was in the same grade as his younger sister Roxanne, much to her chagrin. The rest of the family had been more shocked at Auntie Angelina’s surprise than the matter itself. It was no secret that Seth’s own father and uncle had been renowned pranksters before quitting their education to open a shop. In revealing his failure to his parents, Seth had joked that he was making up for the years his father had missed at Hogwarts.

Of Rose’s cousins, only Lily was there along with Rose’s own brother, Hugo. The fledglings of the family were whispering when she approached, a dreadfully common sight. Rose was close with her cousins, but Lily and Hugo were two peas in a pod. Unfortunately, that pod knew no boundaries and regularly cooked up some recklessly grand ideas. Secretly, she’d been relieved that Lily had opted to travel with her parents this summer, rather than with Hugo. Even as kids, he and Lily used to laugh maniacally whenever they were together, like little devils.

As prefect, Rose had been responsible for cleaning up more than one of their messes. She darkly remembered fifth year - Hugh’s third - when he and Lily had set out to map the Dark Forest. Upon their capture, Hugo had blamed the visiting cartographer Bartosz Skartowàc’s presentation for enthusing him to “demystify the great unknown”. Rose had suggested Hugo next explore the Great Lake from inside a lead cauldron and had promptly received a scolding from their mother for it.

With a scowl, Rose stopped studying Hugo’s innocent expression and resumed scanning the platform for familiar faces. She wished she hadn’t. The person her eyes snagged on - blond and bumptious - was high-fiving his Slytherin pals, Flint, Rockwood and Scamander who were altogether arrogant dung bags. However if one Scamander was here that meant his twin, Lorcan, was, too. If she found Lorcan she’d find Seth and -

“Finally, more redheads!” Uncle George exclaimed as Aunt Audrey and Rose’s cousin, Lucy, went around the group to greet everyone. It was enough to start Uncle George on his recurring complaint that the Potter-genes brought ruin to the Weasley family.

“I’m telling you, there’s a reason why there are so many Weasleys! We are literally keeping the endangered gingers from extinction. But as soon as Potter comes around, only three out of twelve cousins are redheads!”

He looked between them meaningfully, eternal jest in his eyes. Rose chose not to point out, yet again, that Uncle George’s own children were not red-headed. Both siblings had brown hair dark enough to seem black, tightly coiled as their mother’s. “That’s only a success rate of 25%, before it was 100! Harry, what do you have to say to your defence?”

Uncle Harry only smiled and wrapped an arm around his dark haired Lily. Instead of joking back at Uncle George about the survival of the fittest, Uncle Harry looked at his daughter in adoration.

“I think she’s beautiful.” He couldn’t have said a less controversial thing. Even her Veela-descendant cousins didn’t hold a candle to Lily’s natural beauty. Her father’s tan skin and green eyes with her mother’s intensity burning in them - it was not only the Potter name which had Uncle Harry batting away modelling offers like bludgers.

“I’m not going to let someone use my daughter to promote smelly perfumes or provocative Venus Witch clothes,” he had roared over dinner some weeks ago, receiving an offended “Hey, I wear Venus!” from Dominique. It hadn’t been the first time Rose had witnessed him in a rage over Lily’s desired career path. Her uncle was hardheaded as an erumpent, but Lily might just be tenacious enough to come out on top of that battle of wills.

A long whistle snapped Rose out of her thoughts. With a few kisses she bid her family goodbye and scanned the platform one last time. Now that the train was about to depart, the turmoil on the station had reached its peak. Chances of finding anyone here were zero to none. Rose gave up and returned to the compartment she had picked, only to find three witches occupying it. She should have known.

Roxanne Weasley was sprawled over two seats with a copy of Teen Witch on her lap. Across from her, Allie Longbottom was meticulously brushing her hair. Dominique Weasley, who had been sitting next to her, jumped up to greet Rose with a hug.

“Hey there, head girl! I missed you so much,” Dom chirped and landed a couple of glossy kisses on Rose’s cheeks. Never mind that out of all of them, Dominique was the cousin whom Rose had seen most this summer.

“I’ve been searching for you guys everywhere,” she sighed.

Allie smiled leniently. “We were searching for the reserved compartment, of course.”

Rose dropped onto the bench next to Roxanne and took a peak at the magazine. Charming Curves and Hexed Hair - the Autumn Style guide.

“Hexed hair?”

“Yup, it’s the new ‘wicked'.”

“Never,” gasped Rose, appalled. Hexed sounded so forced and clunky.

“C’mon, Rosie, it’s like you live under a rock when it comes to pop culture,” teased Dominique.

“Last time I checked, culture revolved around Stonehenge and the Quintelves Quartett, right Allie?”

Rose turned hopeful eyes to her friend, but she only shrugged, put away her brush and grabbed a nail file. “Don’t drag me into this just because I’m a Ravenclaw.”

“I never said…” Rose trailed off. “Allie, who are you getting so pretty for? Girls, who is she getting so pretty for?”

Roxanne was busy blowing a huge pink bubble. Dominique, however, leaned forward conspiratorially.

“It’s not a who, actually. It’s a what.”

“I’m gonna be editor!” Allie burst out.

“No way! That’s wicked! Congratulations!”

Allie beamed with well-deserved pride. Since third grade, she had been tirelessly working on the Hogwarts Owls, the student run school paper. There had been more than a few nights that her friends found her in the library where she had sat all night, researching and writing articles. With Allie in this new role, the students working under her had better have a good work ethic this year, if she was going to set the pace.

“I’m planning to go around later to check in with the other staff. I actually ran into a few of them already while we were searching for the compartment!”

“Yeah, not only them, Malfoy, too,” Roxanne said, conveying some meaning which was lost on Rose. The mention of his name cast a shadow over Allie’s previously excited face. “He was looking for Albus -“

Speak of the devil. Just at that moment their cousin Albus stuck his head through the door, a massive grin resident on his face.

“Cousins! And Allie,” he added with a wink which was charming in a funny way and not in the suave way he likely meant it.

Rose easily followed his invitation for a hug, letting her favourite boy cousin squeeze her and lift her off the ground. Afterwards he held her by the shoulders to examine her as though they had been apart for far longer than two weeks.

“You got even freckled-er down south!”

“Sure did!”

Rose let him squeeze past to hug the others, before she traded spots with him again.

“Aren’t you staying?”

“Gonna see my housemates,” he said sheepishly. “I’ve just come to collect Seth and Lorcan.”

Rose opted not to tell him that it sounded like a catastrophe in waiting.

“Have you seen them?” Dominique chimed up, her high spirits unmatched even by Albus.

“Yep, they’re just one compartment over.” Albus hooked a thumb towards the front of the train.

“I’ll come with to say hi.”

Dominique hopped off the bench and promised to be back in a couple of minutes before she escorted Albus.

Exhaling, Roxanne slumped against the back of her bench.

“Of course, she has got to say hi,” she groaned, earning a surprised look from Allie. “She and Seth are like best friends now.”

“I’m best friends with Albus,” Rose reminded her.

“Yeah, but you weren’t best friends with me first. It was a simultaneous thing.”

“Sorry, what did I miss?” Allie had leaned further in as if proximity would help her find the information she was lacking. The Longbottoms weren’t around most summers. It was the only time their dad could travel due to his being a professor at Hogwarts. This past summer they had been to South America with the Scamanders.

“Dominique and Seth are besties now.”

“I heard you the first time. Why? How?”

“She didn’t feel like going back to France, I was at Quidditch camp, mum banned Seth from going since he wasn’t supposed to be in school anymore -“

“Ouch.”

“- and with his best friend in Costa Rica, Seth decided to steal the one person who wasn’t occupied. My best friend.”

“Ahh, I get it. You’re mad at him, not at Dom.”

“She’s always mad at Seth.” Rose stifled a yawn.

Roxanne raised a brow. “Come on, we all have brothers. You know how it is.”

Fair point.

“I don’t know, mine could learn to live a little,” sighed Allie. “He spent all summer elbow deep in mud with dad.”

“Speaking of, tell us about Costa Rica!”

Allie practically glowed the moment it was brought up.

“Oh, it was amazing. Super wet and not so touristy, and loads of mosquitos, but beautiful. I’ve never seen that shade of green before.”

“And the Scamanders? How were they?” It was clear that Rose didn’t mean Luna and Rolf, who were eccentric but kind, nor their son Lorcan who was amiable and rarely serious. She meant his twin brother Lysander. Top student, the dream of any mother-in-law to be, and a smarmy Slytherin.

“They were great, but I didn’t see them much. Luna and Rolf were busy with work, and the twins were doing hells know what. I spent a lot of time with mum. Dancing, hiking, reading… and of course with the Potters, when they came to visit.”

It definitely sounded worlds more exciting than the mere two weeks Rose had spent at the sea - though she had enjoyed every second of it.

Having been gone a little longer than ‘a few minutes’, a beaming Dominique slipped back through the door as they were changing into Gryffindor robes. Not that it was unusual. She was always beaming, but the sight was striking every time, even after seeing her daily for seven years.

“I was half expecting not to see you anymore until we arrive,” Roxanne said drily, but Dominique waved her off, pulling out her own Hufflepuff robe.

“They’ve all three gone to see the Slytherins.” Rose groaned inwardly. That was a recipe for disaster and this year it would be hers to sort out. Dominique glanced at her sympathetically. Then, she perked up as if remembering something important. “But they say hi.”

“What are we supposed to do with that?”

“Well, Rose can tell them hi back,” Allie suggested.

Roxanne snorted a laugh.

“I won’t be seeing them before you do,” Rose began, but stopped when she spotted Dominique biting her lip and exchanging a glance with Allie.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” she breathed, “but I think you’ll see them again sooner than you like.”

Before she could ask for clarification, Allie said, “Albus is hanging out with Malfoy.”

“And Malfoy,” Roxanne pointed at the head girl badge pinned to Rose’s jumper, “is head boy.”

-

“Weasley.”

Scorpius let the name melt on his tongue, bitter with animosity.

“I guess that means the party is almost over.”

They had taken over the head student compartment. ‘They’ being him and his friends who were spread across the seats comfortably. Butter beer in hand, ties loose, spirits high. Even Lysander hadn’t buttoned his shirt to the chin yet. By the time he left the compartment, he would again look like he’d been crafted by Merlin himself.

“Wouldn’t be a party if you guys didn’t feel the need to start the year with beer,” Lysander admonished the others before taking a gulp from his own.

“Coulda had pumpkin juice, but I was feelin’ generous and distributed it amongst the first years,” said Earl in his deep register.

“That sounds nothing short of a euphemism,” said Lysander disapprovingly.

In Earl Rockwood’s vocabulary, ‘distribute’ likely meant that he’d spilled the juice on the children. If there was ever a book to be judged by its cover, it was Earl. He was broad shouldered, and thick-browed with a jaw that could cut glass. If Scorpius hadn’t liked the guy, he’d still have made friends with him, if only to stay on his good side.

Across Earl’s lap lay the legs of Effie Flint. A picture of innocence next to his bulky build, which was why she liked being around him so much.

“I bet she’ll be here any second,” Scorpius groaned.

“Weasley? I’d bet not. I’m sure gossiping with the Gryffinwhores is much more appealing than your company, Scorp.”

“Gryffinwhores,” Lysander chuckled as Effie took another gulp of butter beer. “I think you’re bitter because you don’t have any girl friends?”

Effie flicked one of her white blonde braids back and shot daggers at Lysander from charcoal lined eyes.

“As if I could stand the non-stop jabbering about boys and clothes and drama.”

Earl tapped her thigh and said sarcastically, “You’re such a girl’s girl, Eff. Besides, you talk about that stuff all the time.”

“Do not,” she protested, pointing a dark lacquered nail at him. Scorpius had already spotted a chip in the paint.

“‘Earl, what should I wear?’” He had pitched his voice so high it cracked. “‘Earl, should I hex Branson, the worthless little fuckboy?’“

“Oh, shut it,” Effie poked him, but she couldn’t quite keep the smile off her face. “You love it.”

Before Earl could confirm or deny, the door flew open dramatically. Another three boys entered the room, lead by a handsome Slytherin with a daring expression that did little to make him looks less like a stray puppy.

“Fucking hell, Albus! Did you have to bring those love birds? This place is gonna burst with testosterone.”

“And most of it’s you, Iffy,” countered Seth who was rewarded with a laugh from Lorcan. The two of them trailed in after Albus, either oblivious or uncaring that their presence was unwanted.

Albus did this all the time, smushing the two groups together, oblivious to the tension between them. Either that or he just blindly hoped that it would one day sort itself out. Scorpius hadn’t had the heart to set the record straight. Seth and Lorcan were… tolerated, at most. And only out of good will towards Albus, for even though Lorcan was Lysander’s twin by blood, he was Seth’s in spirit.

“Weasley, why am I not surprised that we are stuck with you for another year?” Lysander greeted drily, wasting no time to mention the older student’s failure to graduate.

“And why am I surprised, that you haven’t made head boy?” Seth retorted. “Wasn’t that the sum of your life’s aspirations?”

Both Scamander brothers chuckled, though for different reasons.

“At least I have aspirations,” said Lysander, “rather than getting distracted chasing girls.”

Both Earl and Scorpius snorted, well aware that Seth had had five girlfriends in the previous year. None of them were saints, of course, but five was just excessive.

“Lander, the only reason you don’t have to chase is because I do all the leg work.” Lorcan winked at his minutes older brother. “The flirting, the charming, the wooing as you will, and then they just mistake you for me!”

While the others laughed, Effie rolled her eyes bitterly. “Oh, what a load of bull dung. Is Albus really the only decent one among you?”

“I think we should just move on from the topic,” Albus piped up, always the mediator between the fronts of his friend groups

Seth, however, seemed to be revelling so much in his toxic back and forth with Effie, that he ignored Albus completely. It was so typical that the moment these morons showed up, all conversation turned into a veritable mine field.

“I’ll have you know,” Seth said conspiratorially, “I can be quite the gentleman.”

Effie snorted and opened another butter beer, after handing Earl her empty bottle.

“If you have any game why do I only see you around girls you’re related to?”

Even Lorcan snickered at that one, earning an elbow to the side from Seth.

“Why do you ask, keen to take their spot?”

Merlin help them all if Seth and Effie ever put their chemistry to any other use than bickering. A match between them would probably be explosive enough to take the whole school down.

“Who was your first?” Despite not addressing anyone, Effie’s eyes were fixed on Seth. “A gentleman would remember. Do you?”

“Obviously,” Seth laughed but for once it didn’t reach his eyes. Scorpius couldn’t help but smirk at the discomfort. Effie had pinned him right where she wanted. Served him right for insisting to continue their verbal sparring. Seth, however, relaxed his posture and grinned. “Fine, I’ll make for a bit of entertainment. If you can handle it.”

Scorpius rolled his eyes at the posturing.

“Her name was Andrea, she moved in next door.”

“Didn’t think you had next door neighbours,” Scorpius couldn’t help but comment. He’d heard all about the Weasley lodgings from his father and nothing good among it.

“I don’t live with my grandparents, unlike you, Malfoy.”

Fucker.

“Whatever, continue,” Effie pushed, but Scorpius had lost interest.

He let his head drop back and his eyes unfocus, trying not to feel bothered that the train ride had not started as intended. A bit of kicking his feet up with the lads before Weasley tried to bust his balls was thoroughly ruined by her cousin and Lorcan. In their early years, Scorpius hadn’t minded kicking it with Lysander’s brother on occasion. That was before Lorcan and Seth had all but fused themselves to each other.

Still resting against the gently jostling seat, Scorpius turned his head sideways to look at his favoured Scamander twin. The handsome bastard caught his gaze and made a face to indicate he cared as much about the current squabble as Scorpius did.

“Merlin’s beard, he’s still gonna be talking by the time we arrive,” sighed Lysander.

“Long story short, she was all over me, it just took a little coaxing and -” He made a clicking sound with his tongue.

Silence followed, during which Scorpius assumed the others were similarly disappointed at the less than spectacular story.

“Girls,” Seth grinned into that silence. “Always acting so coy, but in reality they’re just as dirty minded.”

“They never act coy with me,” Earl murmured half into his empty bottle.

Seth leaned into Lorcan, saying in equally low volume, “I’d feel about as comfortable with this guy as I would with a vampire.”

On impulse, Scorpius’ hand twitched for his wand, but then he realised no one else seemed to have heard it. Thank hells. He might have been wanting to stir up a little chaos with the drinks, but he wasn’t after an outright brawl before the school year had even kicked off.

“Really, Earl, no problem?” Effie teased, confirming Scorpius suspicion. If she’d heard it Seth would have gotten a make over already.

Earl downed the remainder of his bottle and wiped across his mouth. “That’s right, clean and easy.”

“I bet they’re just too afraid to say no to this massive guy.” It wasn’t quite the joke Lorcan thought it was. Effie splayed a hand on Earl’s broad chest, seemingly affectionate. Scorpius recognised it for what it truly was, a barrier.

“Yeah, I bet,” snorted Seth. “‘Clean and easy', sounds less like sex and more like murder.”

That was it. They’d been testing each tether holding things together in this cramped space, and Seth had just snapped the last one. Earl made to lunge forward, but Effie’s strategically placed hands and legs held him back just enough. Everyone else had tensed, ready to intervene in case of an escalation. However, Earl relaxed back into the seat after a few moments.

Bad move bringing them here, Al, Scorpius thought.

“Well, that escalated quickly.”

“Shut up, Scamander?”

“Which one?”

“Both of you! Merlin, you’re insufferable,” Effie scoffed. With a sigh, she lifted her legs off of Earl.

“Al, I’m kicking your friends out. After a while, they get annoying.”

Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief at that, but it was short lived. Before Effie could make her threat a reality, the door slid open.

“Don’t bother. I’m kicking you all out.”

In the doorway stood Rose Weasley.

-

Lorcan and Seth were the first to resign to Rose’s intrusion, or perhaps she had finally provided an opportunity for escape. One by one the compartment’s previous occupants filtered past Rose, some more cooperatively than others. Rockwood made no effort not to bump her with his massive shoulder, and Flint paid her as much attention as she would a fly. Nothing but a nuisance. Albus on the other hand opted to give her yet another hug.

Scamander exited last, leaving only Rose and Malfoy and awkwardness behind. Through all of it, the undeserving Slytherin git had not moved an inch from where he was melted into the cushions. Rose slid the door shut, counting silently to ten.

“Lysander had a point,” Malfoy said, referencing Scamander’s suggestion that he stay. “Doesn’t make any sense to make him wait outside.”

“It does actually.” Rose looked sternly around the compartment, undecided if she should sit or not. There were bottles strewn about, and she was that close to killing Malfoy. Two minutes in, nice one. “We should make a plan for-“

“Not gonna yell at me, then?”

“What?”

Malfoy gestured broadly at the mess. Rose’s frown deepened at that. It was already costing her immense energy not to pulverise him, and he was dangerously tugging at that leash. She couldn’t wait for Dominique to arrive with the other prefects. A life line, at least.

“Well, yes, obviously it’s an uncouth way of using the compartment. But I thought we could try to be amica-“

“You see, I wouldn’t have had a chance to invite the lads if you hadn’t been late.”

“Late?” A significant amount of her self-restraint slipped, almost enough to make her act foolishly - just imagine the first detention Scorpius Bloody Malfoy gave out in his unmerited position was to his Head Student counterpart - but Rose took a breath and forced herself to relax. Malfoy was doing this on purpose, his smirk said as much. There was nothing for her to win here, only a lot to lose. Her sanity was at the top of that list.

“Frankly, I don’t care if you choose to abuse your power,” she lied. “It’s unoriginal and unsurprising, and there’s nothing I can do about it anyway.”

Until we get to Hogwarts, and I can rat you out to McGonagall. Maybe that will be a good opportunity for her to explain what in the hopping pots she was thinking. Malfoy, head boy.

“I suggest we keep it short and simple and save the rest for when you are in a more… cooperative state.” A snort at that. “We’ll focus on taking the names of all prefects, dividing up duties between supervising the train and the arrival at the station, and instructing them all to check in with their heads of house for the common room passwords.” Malfoy said nothing while she spoke, but at least he no longer looked smug. “McGonagall will have made a plan for the first week of patrols, after that it’s up to us to make it. That’s how it was in previous years.”

From his unchanging expression, Rose couldn’t make out if Malfoy had caught the barb.

“Is that all clear?”

“All clear,” he drawled. It was meant to be a mockery, she knew it.

“You need to clean this up before they arrive.”

Malfoy made no moves to do so. Rose’s nostrils flared. She could keep herself from hexing him, but she struggled with patience on top of it. Pulling her wand like a whip, she began collecting the bottles. In doing so, she had little regard for Malfoy’s safety. Rather, she made it a point to whisk them right past his face, close enough to make him jerk.

“We’ll also have to answer any questions of the new prefects,” Rose continued her list, louder now over the clinking of glass. “Or I suppose I will have to do that task.”

“Oh good, here we go,” Malfoy said with sudden force, and he stood up with the same. His chest collided with a floating bottle, sending it and its leftover content spraying at Rose.

“Watch it!” She cried out. A knee jerk reaction, as she could easily clean herself with a wave of a wand. He was still a dick for it.

“Spit it out, Weasley,” he snarled.

“What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you? Stop pretending and just fucking say it: You don’t think I belong here.”

“Seriously?” Was that why he’d been trying to rile her up? He’d been looking for this argument? Trying to get her to explode on him?

“Of course, I don’t! In what world does this make sense? You weren’t even prefect, Malfoy.”

“McGonagall clearly thought it was a good idea,” he countered.

Yeah, well, she may be going senile, because this is insane.

“Just admit you’re pissed a Slytherin got head student.”

“That’s bullshit, I thought Scamander was going to get it.”

“What a relief that would have been,” Malfoy scoffed.

Hardly. Scamander was not exactly pleasant. Not under that polished top layer, anyway. Scamander was obsessed with himself, but at least his curated image meant that he was diligent and determined to perform. He would have annoyed Rose beyond her wits, but he would have pulled his weight. Malfoy on the other hand…

A knock sounded at the door, and Rose sensed it was Scamander, eavesdropping outside this whole time.

“Pull yourself together,” she hissed at Malfoy. He roughed back his shaggy blonde hair with his fingers, and glanced at her chest. Before she could curse him for it, a winning grin was plastered on his face, and the door slid open to admit the first prefects.

The compartment was barely large enough to accommodate everyone. This time Rose was not among those squeezed into the back of the space, trying to be able to hear above everyone’s chatter. This time, she was the one everyone’s attention was on. The one who was expected to take lead, since Malfoy sure as hell wasn’t going to-

“Welcome, prefects,” he said smoothly. “We are glad to see you all on our team for this year. In case you don’t know us, this is your head girl, Weasley, from Gryffindor,” he pointed at her chest to indicate her tie, “and I’m your head boy, Scorpius Malfoy, from Slytherin.”

There was some giggling and blushing going on, but Rose was too busy holding herself together. He hadn’t even deigned to use her first name. Her eyes found Dom in the back of the compartment, who rolled her eyes.

“To start us off,” the Slytherin prick continued, “we’d like to take everyone’s names. State your year and house, too.”

Malfoy gestured to a Ravenclaw at the front, who promptly announced herself as “Charine, sixth year, Ravenclaw.”

There was a pause in which everyone seemed to wait for something. While Rose was still trying to figure out what it might be, Malfoy turned to her.

“Did you get that?”

Her jaw dropped when she got his meaning. Oh, she had half a mind to castrate him. There was a rather efficient spell that might work. It wouldn’t be a painless procedure most likely, but in certain circumstances the goal outweighed the means.

“Weasley?” A tick of impatience now laced the word, just enough to give the impression he was being polite.

With unwarranted force, Rose pulled a sheet of parchment from her bag along with a quill. It was bewitched, thank Merlin, to take notes itself. At least she’d retain some of her dignity in this apparent demotion to Malfoy’s assistant.

As the students announced themselves one after the other, Rose sought out Dominique again. This time, she regretted it. Sympathy and concern were heavy in her cousin’s eyes. She was likely wondering what in seven hells was going on here. Quickly, Rose found another familiar face, Carl Longbottom, just before he spoke up for the roll call. His expression made clear there was no mistaking it. They could all tell Malfoy was dominating their new partnership.

Rose nearly scoffed at that. He was making a mockery of the word.

The roll call was nearing the end, and Rose braced herself. It was time to take back the reins.

“Great, thank you all for that,” she said an instant after the last student - Roald, fifth year, Hufflepuff - had finished. “We need six students to patrol the train; you know how everyone gets when they can finally use magic again after the summer.”

Allowing a pause to share a chuckle with everyone, who had no doubt been past defenders, was a mistake.

“We’ll need six of you as well to supervise at the train station,” her insufferable counterpart cut in, “keep in mind you will be the last to take a carriage. And then -“

“Two students from each house to lead the first years to your common rooms. Fifth years, this is a great opportunity to familiarise yourself with your new role and build rapport with the new students.”

The feeling of triumph at interrupting him waned slightly when his smile did not. Malfoy looked unperturbed by her, as if her presence did not touch him at all. Perhaps it had to do with the Slytherin fifth year prefects, who looked to him for confirmation at her words. Malfoy nodded curtly, and Rose’s jaw clenched.

The assigning of tasks went smoothly, and to Rose’s disappointment the new prefects had no questions for them to answer. Seeing him come up empty would have been enough to prove to Malfoy that he had been right. He did not belong here. They all would have known it, too, if she hadn’t stupidly laid down the itinerary before him. And if he hadn’t shamelessly stolen it.

“We will see you again on Wednesday evening just after dinner to make patrol schedules. You’ll all have your schedules by then.” Rose concluded. “Now, please be responsible and impartial with point deductions. No one likes a prefect who favours their own house.”

“I don’t know, I always appreciated Lysander giving me a pass.”

Laughter rippled through the group at the comment. Rose’s face burned.

Before Rose had the chance to emphasise the seriousness of her request, Malfoy had already dismissed the prefects. There was no getting their attention after that. The compartment emptied at a rate that shouldn’t have been possible, Dominique being pushed out as one of the first. Without a glance back at Rose, Malfoy fell into conversation with Scamander and left. Just left.

For a few moments, Rose stood there, reeling. The parchment with names and assignments hung idly in the air, ready for her to collect. Dominique returned just as Rose finished packing up.

It was a good thing, too, because Rose was in dire need of a pick me up and a hug. Instead, Dominique’s eyes dropped onto Rose’s chest.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t even see it from back there or I would have told you!”

Dreading what she would find, Rose followed her gaze. Her white blouse was splotched where Malfoy had sprayed the butter beer. Where he had looked just before the prefects arrived.

Looked and not told her a thing.

Chapter 2: The ones you love, the ones you endure

Chapter Text

The Great Hall was a cacophony of chatter some short days after the start of term. The last and first few days bracketing summer always had the air of change, but it never took Roxanne long to settle back into the castle’s routine. Being back at Hogwarts was like coming home. Maybe not quite as much as it was for someone like Dominique who’s life had always been split between France and England and school, but Roxanne had missed it all the same.

Despite the early days, Allie was already claiming a lot of lunch table real estate with a stack of parchment. Whether it was homework or for the school paper, Roxanne didn’t know but she shot back at a complaining third year anyway, which earned her a grateful smile from Allie.

Rose sat opposite them, saving a seat for Dominique beside her.

The last of their quartet arrived late, with flushed cheeks, a stained shirt and unprecedented frizz.

“Dom, you look -“

The blonde pouted. “It’s bad, is it? I didn’t have time to change.”

That much was evident. Roxanne opted not to say it. “Not bad at all. The dirt really brings out your eyes.”

Dominique rolled them at her and pushed up her sleeves to pick extra cucumber and tomatoes from the salad bowl.

“Seventh year Care of Magical Creatures is intense I take it?”

Rose’s face was carefully neutral to not let show how transformed Dominique looked. It would have been for worse if her unfaltering smile didn’t beam bright beneath the muck.

“It’s insane! Or well, it would be. We are meant to be scouting the forest to chart the Acromantula nests,” that sounded like an absolute nightmare, “but instead we’re kind of dealing with an emergency.”

All journalist, Allie leaned forward. “Tell us more?”

Dominique obliged.

“Professor Wolcott knows someone working in the Ministry’s creature department, and they intercepted a blackmarket shipment of Fwoopers - a whole flock!”

“Wait, Fwoopers?” Rose coughed. “The ones that make you go insane?”

Dominique nodded sagely with a mouthful of lettuce.

“They were brought here for conservation until the ministry can figure out what to do with them. New priority number one. Only there’s nowhere to put them.”

“Then where are they?”

“Wolcott’s put them in the only semi large empty space available - Hagrid’s old hut.”

“Brilliant,” Allie breathed, grabbed a random one of her papers and began scribbling.

“Hagrid would have loved that,” said Roxanne. His house, refuge to a whole flock of exotic danger birds would have been a dream for him.

“But it’s too small for them, and the old stone isn’t taking well to the silencing enchantments. Besides feeding them, cleaning the hut and keeping up with the charms, we now have to build them a new habitat as well.”

Roxanne’s eyes trailed over Dominique, snagging on certain parts of her once crisp blouse.

“So, those yellowish stains are…”

“Bird shit? Yes.” For the way Dominique grinned they might have been discussing a new perfume she was wearing.

“Dom, are you sure you didn’t hear a Fwooper sing already?” Roxanne asked, earning a swat on the arm.

“In all seriousness, I’ve never seen the professor so in over her head. She confided in us upperclassmen that she thought working on the habitat with each of her courses would be enough, but it isn’t going fast enough.” She swallowed mouthfuls of soup before continuing. “Earlier this week a third year wasn’t wearing his earmuffs correctly, and the song was audible through a weak spot in the spelling. He is now being treated in the hospital wing for mild paranoia.”

“Shit,” Allie breathed, her eyes shining with an enthralled curiosity. Roxanne wouldn’t be surprised if Allie made the hospital wing her next stop.

“Now, Wolcott can only allow students who can successfully cast silencio to get anywhere near the Fwoopers.”

“Who even keeps the elective past fourth year though?” Rose asked.

“No one,” Allie supplied excitedly. “I’m guessing that’s the problem.”

Hearing all this, Roxanne almost wished she had kept it. It sounded worlds more exciting than Astronomy where nothing ever happened. Turns out stars didn’t change all that much, nor did the curriculum, even at N.E.W.T. level.

“There are barely any of us,” Dominique continued, “and Wolcott seriously needs volunteers to help outside of lesson hours. The quicker she gets that habitat up and silenced, the sooner we can safely care for and study the Fwoopers.”

Dominique bit her bottom lip.

“I feel terrible because I just don’t have the time to help. With prefect and everything… I stayed a little longer today and look at me.” She gestured at her dismal appearance. “La merde.”

“Has anyone signed up?”

“Only a few. Reeds, Parkinson, Coletta, Thea and Liam. Wolcott wanted three pairs but no chance.”

“I can help,” Roxanne said, easily replacing Dominique’s frown with veritable sunlight.

“You mean it? What about Quidditch?”

“If Malfoy can do head boy and Quidditch, I can surely handle Quidditch and some bird shit.”

“That would be hexed!”

On the opposite side of the table, Rose groaned at the term. Roxanne grinned at Dominique who grinned back, having just resolved to use the term as often as possible.

“Weasley!”

Three of them looked up at the mention of their name, Roxanne having to crane her neck to spot Malfoy behind her. His arrival was only minimally sweetened by Albus who had accompanied him.

The blond bastard had the nerve to look annoyed at having drawn all of their attention.

In a bored tone, he said, “Red Weasley.”

Roxanne bristled.

“She’s got a name, you twit,” she muttered under her breath, just as Albus cheerfully corrected him.

“Unfortunately, we’re needed,” the intruder said without acknowledging either of the comments. He jerked his head towards the professors’ table, which had Rose resign and get up, sandwich in hand.

“Who shat on your friend?” Malfoy asked as the ill-matched pair walked to the back of the room, and Roxanne spotted with satisfaction how Rose tripped him in response.

“She’s got her work cut out for her,” said Allie, tapping her quill on her papers.

Albus promptly slid into the now free spot and topped up Rose’s glass with juice.

“I think they’ll get on fine if they try,” Albus said.

“One day your optimism is going to cost you.”

Dominique, wiping with a damp napkin at the dirt on her face, said, “I’m optimistic, Al is just delusional.”

Roxanne was inclined to agree, but Albus only shrugged, his grin undeterred.

“If it’s delusional to hope that Allie will one day prefer our conversation over her paperwork, so be it.”

Allie rolled her eyes and looked like she was trying not to smile.

“I thought you’d be sick of me after Costa Rica.”

“Never,” he protested, “and anyway, what are you working on?”

And so they went off on rehashing their vacation and discussing Allie’s plans for the Hogwarts Owls. Roxanne leaned back and let the banter flow over her, only cutting in to give one of the two shit. It was a perfect Hogwarts lunch - well, minus Malfoy maybe.

-

Apart from the buzz around the Fwoopers, the initial week of the term passed with little excitement. Both professors and students alike were adjusting to their schedules and settling back into castle life. Exams were specs on a distant horizon and not even the Quidditch season had started yet. So, it seemed that the only two people with work on their hands were the head students.

Whatever bane of her existence Rose had expected Malfoy to be, it turned out to be much less dramatic. She’d been both relieved and disappointed at that revelation. Ever since their first encounter as head students, she’d been steeling herself, devising tactics for dealing with him, for enduring him. That turned out to be a waste of energy.

Instead, she should have saved that energy for accomplishing the tasks of both head students. Malfoy was not the competitor he had appeared as during the meeting. In fact, it was only at prefect meetings that he took an active role at all. It was those times she was most infuriated by him. Beyond it, she could basically ignore him.

Silence seemed to be their answer for coexistence. They kept conversation to a minimum beyond necessary collaboration. Perhaps he had already lost interest in this new position. Perhaps he finally saw reason, though that was unlikely. Or perhaps he was just too lazy to be contrary.

It was frustrating that he leeched off of her hard work and pretended it wasn’t so in front of the others and McGonagall. But his lack of engagement now was… manageable. It was easier than having to fight him every step of the way.

“It’s disappointing, almost,” Rose admitted one day and instantly regretted it. Her friends looked at her incredulously. “I just mean, it might have been interesting and now it is just boring.”

“I saw the way he treated you on the train, Rosie. You let him walk all over you,” Dominique reminded her.

“Yeah, we all thought you were going to make him your little bitch, but Dom said -“

“I didn’t want to cause a scene, alright?” Rose interrupted Roxanne tersely, feeling her face heat. Her intention had never been to make anyone her little b-word. She had gone in there with good intentions. He hadn’t deserved them, so what? She was making do.

“I know the first meeting was a catastrophe,” she admitted, “but it’s fine.”

“Less Malfoy, more life,” Dominique chanted, as though it were a mantra. “He’ll suck the life out of you if you aren’t careful.”

“Last I checked, the Slytherin crest showed a snake, not a vampire.” Allie rolled her eyes from where she was bent over a stack of parchment, scribbling into a table.

The four of them were clustered around a desk deep in the library. One of those, as they had learned over the years, which was not frequented by the librarian. It allowed them to have a normal conversation, concealed by a spell Rose had learned from her dad. It wasn’t one they taught at Hogwarts, but her father had introduced her to Muffliato a few years back, right after she got prefect. One might have reasoned that he took it as proof of her trustworthiness and responsibility but in truth, he had tried to save her from ‘being an unbearable goody-two-shoes’.

The spell cloaked any and all noise Rose and her friends made in their bubble. It was safe to assume her father had hoped for her rebelliousness to go further than smuggling snacks into the library and studying in peace. Or rather, gossiping about annoying Slytherins in peace as they were doing today.

“You should have seen Margaret when they broke up,” Dominique said to bring them back to her life-sucking argument. “I swear I didn’t see her eat for days.”

“Stands to reason considering his dad,” Roxanne said with a wink. “Draco-la Malfoy.”

“It’s Mag’s own fault if she gets involved with the likes of him. Malfoy’s never been one to hold on to a girlfriend.” Allie glossed right over the pun, earning an eye roll from Roxanne. She hadn’t looked up from her papers once. It was a mystery to Rose how Allie could be having a coherent conversation while still doing… whatever she was doing.

“They probably all think they can fix him,” Dominique mused.

“Duh! Everyone likes a bad boy. And where would we get our drama if blokes weren’t stirring them up?”

“Common, Roxy, that’s not good enough a reason to fall for any of them. Even Scamander hasn’t ever dated the same girl between Christmas and Valentine’s, and he’s, like, every mother-in-law’s dream.”

“Then every mother-in-law needs to have a taste check,” Rose scoffed, but Allie shook her head thoughtfully.

“He’s surface level appealing. Perfect grades, polite, prefect, good looking, well dressed. Even Professor Halifax eats out of his palm, and she’s, well, you know.”

“I bet she’s never tried dating him.” Dominique picked up one of the papers strewn in front of Allie, earning a glare from her friend. “Sorry.”

Roxanne, who had pushed her potions homework aside, snorted. Rose was unsure whether it was targeted at Allie’s protectiveness over her work or the idea of Scamander dating Halifax who was as brilliant as she was scary.

“Don’t think older women are his speed,” she clarified after Allie had levelled her with a glare, too. “I’m pretty sure he was seen with a fourth grader last year.”

Dominique gasped at that. “Fourth grade? Lily was only just in fourth grade then.”

“Exactly,” muttered Rose darkly. “She already looked like a bloody model then.”

“Goodness, yes, she’s gorgeous, but she’s still a girl,” Dominique added firmly. “Not a woman.”

They all nodded in agreement, trying to digest the imagery. Rose didn’t know which was worse. Scamander and Halifax or Scamander and Lily. Lily of all people, whom she had grown up regarding as a younger sister.

“Do you think of yourselves as women?” Dominique asked, cheeks pink.

“Yes,” Roxanne said immediately, and Allie nodded. After a moment’s consideration, Rose also agreed. She was definitely more woman than she’d ever been before. Now that she was seventeen, almost eighteen, and taking up more responsibilities, she felt in charge of her life.

“Oh,” Dominique said softly, preoccupied with her nails. “Well, not me.”

“That’s okay,” Allie reassured her quickly.

“Yeah!” Roxanne agreed. “It’s probably because you’ve never -“

But Rose quickly reminded her, “Neither have I!”

She didn’t need to have sex to feel like a woman, she didn’t think. She looked at Allie for support on the point, but her friend said nothing. Half hidden behind her dark tresses, she was blushing furiously.

“Allie?!” Roxanne had realised it the same moment Rose had, and Dominique looked up to see what she’d missed. Luckily, she was quick on the uptake, because Rose didn’t have the words to tell her. Allie had never even suggested… When would she have had -

“In Costa Rica?” Dominique gasped.

“Yeah, well, yeah.” Allie looked at them defiantly. Roxanne shot upright at that.

“Lorcan?”

“No.”

“Lysander?!”

“No. It’s not worth telling, alright?”

Rose highly doubted that. Even if it wasn’t someone they knew, having her first time on the other side of the world with a stranger, it sounded fascinating. A story worth telling, even if it hadn’t been good.

And it was sex after all! It was a big deal. She’d be telling her friends first thing if she’d had it. Seven hells, she’d tell them every day leading up to it if she thought it was going to happen. The fact that Allie had not was mildly worrying. They told each other everything.

There was no point pressing her on it. Allie wouldn’t crack unless she wanted to. It was a great trait when wanting to confide in her, but an annoying one when she was the one holding the information. Reluctantly, Rosed backed off.

Breaking the silence that had fallen over them, Allie said “I don’t get it anyway, have you ever read the books about your uncle?”

“Wasn’t necessary,” Roxanne snorted. “The stories are told at every family gathering.”

“Much to Uncle Harry’s dismay,” Dominique giggled.

“Exactly, so we know things were different back then. I just never got the feeling that love and sex were important then. It was all about saving the world and such.”

Rose almost laughed at how simply she phrased it. No big deal, just saving the world.

“Yeah, and now we have to save the world from STI-ridden Slytherins,” Roxanne teased, earning a laugh from the others.

“World saving or not, it was a different generation. The further you go back, the more prude people were.”

“Not sure you can get more prude than today,” Dominique pointed out, but Rose shook her head and pinched chewing gum from their snack pile.

“All teenagers think they are total rebels.”

“But I think Allie is right,” Roxanne weighed in, offering each of them a piece of gum. “In mum and dad’s time there were other things going on. They had a celebrity at school for one.”

“Multiple celebrities.” Rose had heard enough times about the now Bulgarian national coach, then famed Quidditch player Viktor Krum who had visited Hogwarts in her parents’ time. Whether that had been a good or a bad thing heavily depended on which of her parents was telling the story, however.

“Right, they had the Triwizard Tournament, the Chamber of Secrets being opened, and an alleged criminal on the run.”

“And I’m sure the whole Voldemort thing also put a damper on things.” Rose laughed around her piece of gum at the fact Roxanne seemed to have forgotten that little tidbit.

“I was getting there,” her cousin said darkly. “My point being, there was enough scandal to go around.”

“We sound like our parents when we talk about stuff like this,” Dominique yawned, but Allie disagreed.

“No, we sound like the kind of people who don’t provide the scandals. The boring people.”

Her friends’ brows shot up at that, clearly thinking Allie’s recently uncovered secret was anything but boring. She threw her hands into the air.

“As if that’s a scandal! After all it was only one boy and not ten!”

“Good to know.” Roxanne wriggled her brows, a gum wrapper hitting them shortly after.

-

Urged by their grumbling stomachs, the four of them sought out the Great Hall for lunch via a detour past the Hufflepuff common room. Dominique had insisted on stopping there to drop off her bookladen bag, which inadvertently lead them to the kitchens and Lorcan Scamander.

“Bothering the house elves, are you?” Roxanne asked her brother’s best friend, who feigned outrage at the accusation. Rose was certain that was exactly what he'd been doing.

“How dare? I am merely a man with an aching heart, a wanderer in eternal search for his form given purpose, the other half of his soul,” he lamented, an arm dramatically thrown over Allie’s shoulder, only just missing Rose’s face in the process. “Life is a dreary existence without him.”

“In another life, you could have been a good writer,” Allie muttered, shoving at him.

“You really think Seth’s down here working for his food when he could get it delivered in the Great Hall?” Roxanne scoffed, as usual unimpressed with her brother and his bright shadow. She rolled her eyes at Rose who reciprocated in kind. Lorcan only laughed. “What would you have done if he actually graduated?”

“Can you imagine? Me? All alone?”

“You’re worse than second grade girls,” Rose groused, though she couldn’t help but grin.

“If you hadn’t kept back, you two could be sharing classrooms now,” Dominique pointed out.

Instead, Seth had joined his sister in seventh grade, while Lorcan stayed behind in sixth.

“Dom, you just don’t have the mind of a master schemer.” His other arm found its way around Dominique’s neck, and he began gesticulating wildly. “By splitting ourselves across grades, we have much better access to the student body. Think of all the possibilities, all the students to entertain.”

“Why does he have to be in my grade now?” Allie groaned at the same time as Rose reminded Lorcan he was in the presence of a prefect and the Head Girl. Neither remark seemed to bother him, as he kept demanding the girls’ attention. It was only when Rose halted abruptly and cursed that he allowed the attention to be drawn from him.

“I completely forgot I was supposed to meet Malfoy to set up the Quidditch plans.”

Dominique winced sympathetically. “During lunch hours?”

Rose’s dark expression was answer enough.

“‘Look, all I’m saying is he isn’t so bad on his own’,” Roxanne imitated her, though she still gave Rose a comforting hug goodbye.

Lorcan offered the same, pressing her to him for a full minute before she managed to struggle free.

“There she goes,” he lamented, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “They grow up so quickly. Until soon, Rosie! Adieu! Bye bye! O reva!”

“It’s au revoir,” Dominique scolded before dragging Lorcan out of ear shot.

Despite Lorcan’s theatrics, Rose would much prefer joining her friends for lunch. She should have asked them to bring a sandwich to class for her, or a piece of fruit. Just anything to get her through Defense Against the Dark Arts just after this. Usually she left DADA hungry even with a full lunch.

Malfoy would probably make a scene about her being late, but she wouldn’t rush herself on his account. Arriving sweaty from running back upstairs would only play into his hands. Once arrived at their shared office, she smoothed her skirt and caught her breath. Satisfied with her composure, she entered.

His feet propped onto the desk, Malfoy leisurely bit into a slice of buttered toast. He had bloody planned this. He had awaited her entrance in the knowledge that she’d arrive with an empty stomach. The git.

“Sorry, I’m late,” she lied.

Malfoy shrugged, a smug grin on his face. “I had the audacity to start on the plans.”

“Of course, you did.” Where his favourite sport was involved, he apparently knew to take initiative. She steeled herself for the bad news sure to come.

“That frown doesn’t suit you, Red” he commented instead, and her blood began boiling. She’d take everything she told the girls back. He was a bastard.

“You don’t suit me,” she responded coolly, smoothing her forehead. “And you know full well my name is Rose.”

“Whatever you say, Red.”

Of course, Malfoy would somehow manage to make her wish he called her by her last name.

I’m the bigger person. This doesn’t bother me. I’m the bigger person.

“Let’s hear it then, what’s your plan?”

“Straight to business,” Malfoy laughed and patted the parchment he’d been working on. “Not in the mood for small talk?”

“Merlin’s mouldy beard, just get to the point.” With a whip of her wand, she jerked the desk towards her, and Malfoy’s feet crashed to the floor. He cursed and straightened, that smug expression finally gone.

“Slytherin try outs are Tuesday,” he relented finally and pushed the parchment in her direction.

“Predictable,” she scoffed. “Let me guess, you want to start practicing early and have dibs on training times?”

His grin said it all. Self-interested piece of shit. He’d given up his mantle as Quidditch captain in favour of the Head Boy position, but his investment in the sport was clearly still a conflict of interest.

“I agree with the first part. Slytherin try-outs on Tuesday.” Rose tapped the parchment with her wand, locking his entry in place. Irrevocable. He was not going to be happy about that in a moment. It seemed to dawn on him, judging by the frown now on his face. Telling him it didn’t suit his features was oh-so tempting, but she needed to stay professional. Not stoop to his level. “But training times will be arranged once all teams are complete. Everyone gets to hand in their preferences at the same time, they’ll have a fair chance. That will probably be towards the end of the week.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Hufflepuff voiced a preference for late evening, so it’ll have to be on Thursday. Gryffindor will have their tryouts last, on Friday.” She tapped again, the remaining three houses rearranging on the schedule. She’d compared it with the class schedules, too.

“Gryffindor goes last?” He asked. “Very generous.”

“That way they can accommodate for the composition of the other teams.” She looked at him coldly, and he shook his head.

“How very Slytherin of you.” The sarcasm barely served to hide his dismay. She’d outplayed him at his own game, and for that he could blame only himself.

Rose began working on copies of the schedules along with an explanation of when and how team composition and preferences were to be handed in. Scorpius watched her, likely bored, the only sound the scratching of her quill.

“Are you playing again this year, then?”

Not interrupting her work, Rose searched for an ulterior motive in the question. When she couldn’t think of one, she answered, “No.”

“Why not?”

“Why do you care?” She snapped. Naturally, the minute she appreciated his ability to shut up, he promptly lost it.

“Calm down, Red,” he chuckled, and she pulled a face at the nickname. Foregoing her complaint, he continued, “You’re a strong chaser. Although you got your position confused with beater last year.”

Finally, she paused her writing. He looked bored, leaning in his chair, head back and staring at the ceiling.

“Last year… because I nearly bashed your head in?” A cold laugh escaped her at the memory.

“Pretty much. Brutal game, that one.”

Brutal indeed. One of the worst in years according to the professors who had thoroughly scolded and punished them. Leading up to the game, there had been a dispute between the houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. That was not unusual in itself; the houses were prone to disputes. Only that time, in the rivalry of pranks, a firecracker had hit Seth square in the chest. It had resulted in a nasty burn mark and his inability to partake in the following match.

Where Slytherin claimed it an accident, Gryffindor had interpreted it as sabotage. Since Malfoy and his cronies made up more than half of the Slytherin Quidditch team and Seth’s family made up half of the Gryffindor one, revenge had been found on the pitch.

The result: a truly horrid match.

Rose, who had ‘accidentally’ mistaken Malfoy’s head for the Quaffle, had earned a round of applause for nearly ripping it from his neck. They had all been disqualified for the rest of season and done thorough penance. With an entire month of detentions on her record, Rose was surprised either of her and Malfoy had still qualified for head student.

“So? Why don’t you play anymore?”

“Being Head Girl is enough for this year,” she said simply, but when Malfoy said nothing in response, she felt the need to clarify. “I’m not bad, and it’s fun, only… competitively it’s too stressful. I’d rather make space for people who enjoy the competition, like my cousin Lily. She could get a first line spot on the team now.” Surprised by herself, Rose pressed her lips together.

“Lily Weasley?”

“There’s only Lily Potter.” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “She’s strong, you better watch out.”

“Ah, you mean Albus’ little sister.”

Such a hypocrite. He had been friends with Albus for years. Did he really think to convince her he didn’t know his friend’s sister? She might be young, but no one overlooked Lily Potter. Rose was at once reminded of her conversation from earlier that day. “Don’t pretend. If she wasn’t Al’s sister you probably would have asked her out already.”

Malfoy all but cackled. “I don’t share a bed with your clan.”

In response, Rose hit him with a sharp kick on the shin.

“You fury,” he hissed, rubbing the sore spot.

“Deserved.” To her surprise, he laughed again.

“Maybe that frown isn’t so bad on you, after all.”

As if I need your approval, of all people.

“Just shut up and let me work,” she groaned.

“What? You’ve been working this whole time?”

Stunned, he leaned forward to study the parchment she’d been scribbling on.

“Merlin, spare me. Do you ever pay attention?”

“It’s not my fault, I was distracted by the creases in your forehead.”

This time, he evaded her kick.

“Bugger off, Malfoy.”

He paused. “For real?”

“You’re obnoxious, and I’m doing all the work on my own anyway.”

If he stopped nagging her she might actually get done in time to grab a small bite before class. Her aching stomach was distraction enough.

“Fine, but you’ll show me the result when it’s finished. Don’t want you securing all the advantages for Gryffindor.”

Insufferable.

She waved him off, sighing in relief when she heard the door close behind him. Her standards really had to be low to find working with Malfoy ‘not that bad’.

Chapter 3: Quidditch and Quills

Chapter Text

Autumn came early.

Rather than tagging another month onto summer, September’s allegiance was to October this year. Overcast skies and vicious winds seemed to have forgotten the sun even existed.

This unusually early onset of unpleasant weather made Roxanne’s newly acquired pastime even more urgent.

She trudged across the grounds towards the edge of the forest where a veritable construction site loomed. Two people were there already, standing among piles of wood and erecting makeshift walls to shield against the wind. Both of them turned as soon as they heard Roxanne approach.

“Weasley, right?” Professor Wolcott greeted her, informed by Dominique no doubt.

“Roxanne, yes.”

Wolcott hooked a thumb at the other volunteer, a short girl with round cheeks and dark hair who Roxanne had seen in passing. “Parkinson will show you the ropes while I deal with the Fwoopers. Don’t go near’em without ear muffs, ya hear me?”

With that the stout woman rushed off towards Hagrid’s hut.

“Paris,” the girl held out her hand for Roxanne to shake, “fifth year, Ravenclaw. Nice to meet you.”

Roxanne responded in kind and looked around. Only the floor and structural beams had been erected so far. The building was going to be tall enough for the birds to fly around in it seemed.

“I thought this was going to be a temporary shelter,” she said, wrinkling up at the tallest beam. Clearly she had signed up for something more intense than anticipated.

Paris seemed to think the same judging by her tone when she said, “it still has to stand and be secure until the end of the school year at least.”

“And how come you volunteered?”

“This,” she indicated her stained overalls and muddy boots, “is kind of my thing.”

“Well, creature care isn’t really in my wheelhouse,” Roxanne admitted, “so I’m happy to take your lead.”

Apparently, they would be building an outer wall first, then fashion it with insulation before adding a second one, using only wood.

Paris knocked on one of the wooden planks, “This is acacia wood. It won’t be easy to work, I’m afraid.”

“So why did we choose this one?”

Paris answered while levitating some planks to a work bench.

“Each plank will be spelled and warded to keep the Fwoopers silenced,” she explained and demonstrated how to infuse the magic into the wood. “Acacia is notoriously greedy, that’s why its wands are so hard to use. Magic funnelled into it doesn’t come back out easily. Tricky for wand work, but ideal for our purpose. The magic won’t leak.”

Not having expected to come for a Herbology lesson, Roxanne merely nodded.

“The inner wall will be made with poplar,” Paris explained while levitating the boards to the soon-to-be south wall of the structure, parallel to the strong winds. “Poplar is a fantastic and uniform conduit, which will ensure even coverage.”

“Sounds very logical.”

Though in truth Roxanne had no measure by which to assess it. There was so much information, such detailed planning… no trace of the quick and easy shed Roxanne had stupidly assumed they’d be putting together.

“You know how to wield a hammer?” Paris had grabbed one from a tool box.

“I know how to wield a wand.”

“And how precise is your malleocudo?”

‘Decent’ wasn’t good enough apparently, but Roxanne got the feeling Paris would have tested her no matter what. When her third spell did not drive the nail into the exact mark Paris had made, she relented and took the hammer.

It soon became clear that Paris did not struggle with malleocudo at all. She managed to nail three boards in the time Roxanne spent on one. Soon, they designated Roxanne to spelling the wood and delivering it where it needed to go while Paris built the structure.

“You’re quite the woodworker.”

Paris hummed. “Usually it’s art, not construction though.”

“Art using wood?”

“Yup.” Paris stretched her arms overhead. “My mum’s an art collector, my dad works with wood. It came naturally to me.”

“That’s cool,” Roxanne said, despite having no imagination of what wood art would even look like aside from whittling. Paris did not look like a whittler. She looked like the kind of person you would find painting in a plant filled studio with soft light filtering in, a picture of peaceful creativity. She dressed like the kind of person who sat crosslegged and never second guessed whether her patterned socks drew too much attention.

It was precisely why Roxanne had noticed her in school before, she realised. Paris always stood out. A sunflower clip here, a bright cardigan there, and her crocheted messenger bag which probably held books only because it was magically reinforced.

“So, the better question is what are you passionate about?” Paris smiled at her easily, the resounding sound of her hammer punctuating her words.

“Quidditch, I guess?”

Roxanne struggled to hold a conversation while casting spells at the same time, and Paris didn’t seem to mind the silence in which they worked. Finally, she glanced at the darkening sky and began packing up.

“So how come you volunteered?”

Watching Paris’ already practiced routine of protecting the materials against the elements, Roxanne leaned against one of the support beams. She shrugged, glancing away but out of the corner of her eye she caught Paris looking at her.

“I had nothing better to do,” she admitted. “My friends all have some important jobs this year, keeping them busy. I just have Quidditch.”

“And graduating.”

“And that,” Roxanne amended, wishing Paris hadn’t reminded her.

“That’s really generous of you to volunteer your time like that.”

“Let’s just say Wolcott was smart to pair me with someone competent.”

“We’ll make a hexed team.” Paris held out her hand for a high five and Roxanne met it with a satisfying smack, having to suppress her grin at the unironic use of the term.

“Totally hexed!”

-

Wind whipped across the grounds, and the cloudy sky cast the castle in a grey light. Even the scarlet Gryffindor Quidditch robes seemed lifeless, barely contrasting against the usually rich green of the pitch. Garett Papor, the sixth grade captain, stood in front of the aspirants for his team and gave the tryout rundown.

For now Rose was the only one in the stands, her arms wrapped around her body, wishing for a thicker coat. The tryouts were going to take ages but as a good friend and cousin, she felt that it was her duty to stay. At the same time, she was just a little curious who was going to fill her spot.

Seth, having proved indispensable over the last few years, had a safe spot on the team. Considering what had happened in the year prior, however, Garett was intent on finding a reserve keeper and have Seth help him train the reserve to take over from him next year. Hearing this had made Rose a big fan of Garett’s. It was smart to use Seth’s extra year to his advantage and made her keen to see the decisions Garett would make today.

First, Garett looked for beaters. Both previous beaters had graduated, leaving the positions vacant. He’d need to find not only talented flyers, but two players who worked well with each other, specifically. Two beaters who were in sync, who had that kind of chemistry, could form an unbeatable team.

After a good half hour, Dominique arrived, climbing up to where Rose was sitting. Her pink tinted face looked unusually grim, likely due to the Slytherins who had arrived at the same time as her. Luckily they took seats on the opposite side of the stadium.

“I hope they keep a safe minimum distance,” Dominique muttered as a greeting. Then, she beamed at her cousin and pulled her into a welcome hug. “How’s it been so far?”

Rose gave her a run down, then pointed at a muscular boy from Garett’s year. “He seems to have convinced Garett. Got a hard hit and very good balance on the broom, even freehand. His aim is also impressive.”

“Brilliant!” Dominique cheered, despite not even being a Gryffindor. In fact, Rose was certain that seven thestrals couldn’t have dragged Dominique outside if it was her own house on the pitch.

“Now, he needs to find someone who matches the first beater. It looks like he’s deciding between Marie Bennet and Alfred Grogan.”

“Marie? Isn’t she the small one?” Dominique’s blue eyes were wide with worry, as if she feared Garett was going to choose her to be the new beater.

“True, she’s small,” Rose admitted. “But she’s also quicker than Grogan, easy to be underestimated. You can’t tell, but she’s packed with muscle.”

Dominique nodded attentively, though she seemed to have reached her capacity for Quidditch talk.

“How is the head girling with Malfoy? Is he much trouble?”

“Not really.” Rose made a gesture, hoping to diminish Dominique’s bias towards Malfoy.

“Rose, you don’t have to pretend. You can tell us, you know?” Dominique produced a small jar and lit a flame in it, passing it to Rose, then doing the same for herself.

“No, I’m not pretending.” Rose wrapped her hands around the jar. The warmth instantly seeped into her. “I don’t know what I expected, I guess that he’d oppose me or block me all the time. But he’s all bark and no bite.”

To her surprise, he’d distributed the schedules and handouts swiftly after signing off on them, not even pausing to tease Rose. She’d braced herself for some bullshit about them not being good enough or her favouring certain houses, but it hadn’t come.

Garett, after a long back and forth, chose Alfred for the team in the end. The two girls clapped politely, even though Rose had secretly been rooting for Marie.

“His friends aren’t so docile.”

“I don’t know, Dom. He has them under control, I suppose,” Rose said with a side-glance at the Slytherin’s opposite them. Dominique did not follow her gaze, but looked at Rose in disbelief.

“Under control? That’s a good one.”

Throughout her career as prefect, Rose had docked points from Malfoy and his cronies countless times. From Rockwood, most of all. It should have been Scamander doing it, as he was witness to all their misdemeanours, but he rather focused on policing Seth and his own twin, Lorcan. Perhaps with their leader now head boy, those days were behind them.

Rose sighed. “They haven’t been trouble.”

“Seriously? Just Monday I had to deal with cauldrons boiling over uncontrollably because a bunch of third grade idiots bought Rockwood’s ‘secret herb for success’. I don’t know what they were thinking, he is a total null at Herbology.”

It was enough to tear Rose’s attention from the pitch, where the hopeful chasers, Lily among them, had begun warm ups.

“What?”

Her cousin mirrored her confusion.

“He didn’t tell you,” Dominique concluded in a quiet voice, both of them looking over at the Slytherins. Malfoy’s blond, lying head stood out even from this distance.

“No.”

Neither had it been on the log of misdemeanours which they collected from the prefects and handed over to the respective heads of house. No mention at all of Rockwood on any of the sheets.

“That blast ended screwt!” Rose bit her lip in frustration. She’d bloody defended him. “I’ll have a bone to pick with him right after tryouts.”

“Make that two, as a precaution.” Dominique rubbed her shoulder, a sympathetic expression on her face.

A welcome distraction, two more students hurried in their direction. One of them wrapped in a Gryffindor scarf, the other one sporting Slytherin - the only one of his house they’d allow up here.

“I’m sorry,” Allie panted, loosening her red and gold scarf despite the wind. “I had completely forgotten about tryouts.”

“Couldn’t leave her behind,” Albus explained his own delay. After a quick wave at his friends across the pitch, his attention was glued on the players. “Now, what is this guy doing?”

Crouched at the edge of his seat, whole body tense, Albus sank right into the sport. Something which never failed to amuse Dominique, who did not think “a game” warranted such intensity. Rose was on Al’s side. Even though she was no longer on the team, she was still invested.

In the meantime, Garett had chosen a new keeper none of them knew, and chasers were up next. At this point, even Dominique stayed quiet out of respect for Roxanne. Just like in previous years, Roxanne had no difficulties qualifying for the position. She scored all but one goal, her brother defending the goal posts more bitterly than he would from a stranger. Still, he cheered when Roxanne flew a loop and high-fived Lily. Just as she used to do with Rose. Her heart ached, missing that connection to her friend. They’d flown as one, parts of a whole, knowing intuitively where the other would be awaiting the quaffle. She’d likely never experience that again with anyone.

“Well done, Roxanne!” Dominique shouted against the wind.

Albus had no eyes for the acrobatics of their cousin. His eyes were fixed on Lily, up next to prove herself. Like Marie, Lily was slender, reminiscent of a deer. But Rose knew of the sharpness and strength disguised by that ostensible fragility. It seemed that Lily was set on leaving no doubt about it today.

On the whistle, she shot into the air like a canon ball. Quick, precise, unfaltering. Twice she aimed for the left goal post, each time landing the shot. On the third, she feigned left again, and as Seth dove, she aimed right. And scored.

Albus was screaming himself hoarse in support of her, sounding pained at his sister’s brilliant performance. He and James had trained her and tortured her until she’d become a worthy opponent. Their family might as well be their own Quidditch team with two chasers, one beater and two seekers. Considering their parents’ talent at the sport, it would have been a surprise had she not made it onto the team.

When Garett hesitated so much as a second to pick her, Albus began flinging a string of insults at him, which were luckily whisked away by the wind before reaching down to the pitch. He continued even after the rest of the stadium was applauding Lily’s joining the team.

“Narrow-minded, mysoginistic, self-centered blockhead! Blast ended nons! Horntail excretion! Dung beetle! You absolute slime -“

“Albus, enough! She’s on the team!” Allie pleaded, tearing Albus away from the bannister.

“She better be!” He shouted at Garett. “She deserves a spot of honour, got it? You better watch yourself!”

It took another few minutes for him to settle, which was helped by the continued tryouts. After all, Gryffindor were still missing a seeker, a position of particular interest for Albus. He played the seeker for Slytherin.

Someone apparently had heard Albus’ rampage. Seth came racing toward them at neck-breaking speed, stopping so late that Dominique shrieked and ducked. She emerged looking angry, ready to rip into him, which quickly flipped to terror when Seth inverted. Dangling only by his legs, Seth crossed his arms across his chest and grinned.

“Stop! Seth, stop it!” Dominique waved frantically between them. “You’ll fall, you absolute idiot!”

“And what if I did?” He winked. “You’d catch me with a levitation charm anyway. Care for a joyride, Dom?”

Dismayed, she mimicked his posture, crossing her arms. “You know I’m scared of heights, Seth.”

“C’mon, scaredy cat, just one lap,” he begged, and even righted himself as if that’d help convince her. To no avail. Just as he made to return to the team, Rose called his name.

“I could use a ride.” The Slytherins, having seen enough, were heading for the exit. “Take me over to them. I have two bones to pick with Malfoy.”

-

Quidditch was a bore. On a good day, it held little appeal for Lysander Scamander, but on a day like today… it was torture. His ass was cold, his nose was runny, and his friends - the reason he was here in the first place - were too cold to be entertaining. Out of the five of them, Lysander was the only one not holding one of the coveted spots on the Slytherin Quidditch team. And happily so.

Yet, he came for them. It was the unspoken bargain they’d struck in exchange for the times he dragged them to the library. Unfortunately, they thrived much less in an education fostering environment than out here on this miserable tribune. Scorpius and Effie were earnestly discussing their opponents' skills while Earl simply labeled them ignorant and untalented. Even Lysander knew that wasn’t a proper strategy, but he’d checked out of the conversation long ago.

There was one saving grace to his misery, and she had just scored another goal. If he wasn’t so cold nor so bored he might not have paid her attention. Might have been too busy basking in the sun or chatting with his mates to notice her feign, then score. One sharp turn, and she’d zipped back to her starting position, not without sticking her tongue out at the Slytherins as she passed them. That was when he leaned forward, for the first time watching the pitch with intent. Lily Potter was graceful in the air, though a show-off prone to aerial stunts. Earl scoffed when she was selected for the team, a reaction opposite to that of her own brother, whom they could hear clamouring in the Gryffindor stands.

Albus was sat on the other side of the stadium along with his family, torn as always between his dual obligation. They had won out, this time. Lysander didn’t mind. By the looks of it, Albus was having a rather explosive reaction to his sister making the team. It was all he’d been talking about that morning, too. Such pride for his little sister, despite the fact she would be playing for the rival team.

He was good at that sort of thing, Albus. Juggling between his two allegiances. Sometimes, however, his good intentions threatened to push too far. Like it had on board the Hogwarts Express on their way here. The boy was forever in denial about his family’s like-ability. How hopeless would he have been if he hadn’t joined them in Slytherin? If he’d been sorted into Gryffindor like his siblings and hadn’t become Scorpius’ friend? All of their friend?

Lysander wondered about it on occasion. It was nature versus nurture in a way and in his opinion, nurture outweighed the other by far. He himself had been sorted into a different house than his own twin had been. Neither of them took after their parents, a saving grace of sorts. Lysander loved his mother, as any man should, but he was still relieved he’d managed to turn out so… normal, despite her influences. Might he have turned out like her if he’d have been sorted into Hufflepuff like Lorcan? Or Ravenclaw like that hopeless nerd Longbottom?

Lysander didn’t have time to follow that thought to conclusion, as Earl clapped him on the back. “Ready to get a move on?”

“Papor just found his seeker,” Effie explained as though he cared. “Some twerp in the third grade.”

With relief, Lysander stretched his legs, ready to escape from the tribune. However, trouble was nearing at a rapid pace across the stadium. Weasley was unmistakable, her red hair fluttering like fire in her wake. It was Seth delivering her right in front of them, where she hopped lithely off of the broom, turning on Scorpius with a vengeance.

“I’ve got something to discuss with you, Malfoy,” she said sharply, and Lysander rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, Red, I gotta go. I have a date with Mc Gonagall.”

The lie stopped Weasley cold. She wouldn’t dare interfere with a professor’s appointment, especially not the head mistress. When her eyes narrowed, however, Scorpius added, “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, aren’t I? Can you wait to tear me a new one until then?”

The apologetic smile on his lips would surely have disarmed most other opponents. All it achieved with her was a purse of the lips and that ever disapproving frown.

“Fine, but you’d better brace yourself.”

He felt her eyes follow them until they’d climbed down the stadium stairs, out of view. It was then that Earl let out the chuckle he’d been holding.

“What was that all about?”

“Yes, whatever could it be about?” Scorpius levelled an annoyed look at Earl. “Surely not the bloody mess you fabricated the other day!”

Earl shrugged, a glimmer of pride on his angular face. “Annoying her honestly makes it more worth it.”

“Except that she, in turn, annoys me!”

“And that my friend,” Earl said leading the way to the common room, “sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

-

If one were to believe Lysander, the man had lost his right testicle watching the Gryffindor tryouts yesterday. That was how hefty he made the sacrifice of joining them seem. It was complete dragon shit, and yet, Scorpius found himself in the library to make up for it. He’d propped a random book in front of him, with as much intent on reading it as he had of joining the toad choir. Earl and Effie, having bewitched quills to duel, were similarly enthused.

“It’s all about leaving impressions. Professors just need to see you in the library, no matter if you’re studying,” Lysander had promised them, not for the first time. As if any of them cared about brownie points. In truth, they came to keep him company as he studied.

“Merlin, Lysander, I’m gonna die of boredom,” Earl muttered, a defeated quill fluttering onto the table. He’d held out longer today than usual before finding ways to distract himself. The library was a naturally hostile environment for Earl, rapidly wearing down his sanity.

“Why don’t you read ‘The adventures of Harry Potter’?” Scorpius scoffed, nodding to the special display section a few shelves down. The ostentatious tribute the school’s own hero was often subject to Albus’ complaints who only escaped his father’s fame when he was at home with him.

Even Scorpius, grown up in a household where the very name ‘Potter’ was taboo, knew all of the stories. Harry Potter, famous when he could barely walk, who saved the world from the Dark Lord. The wizard whom Scorpius’ family had worshipped - and feared. To say Scorpius’ friendship to Albus had not been well received would be an understatement.

Not meriting Scorpius’ suggestion with so much as a reaction, Earl had become focused on something else. A mischievous glint lay in his eyes, directed at a desk past the Harry Potter section. It was occupied by Hogwarts’ finest - Carl Longbottom. The lanky Ravenclaw sat buried amidst books on a table which as good as bore his name. The boy’s Hogwarts career had been doomed from the start, as was the fate of any student who’s father worked at the school. No matter how often that father had helped save the world.

Before anyone could have prevented it, Earl had taken control of a levitating ink pot and shot it like a missile. The target: a yellowed book which Longbottom was poring over. Even from the distance, Scorpius could see the green ink spray across the boy’s old fashioned glasses.

Longbottom did not bother with them, but lunged forward to try and save the paper. Earl hurried his way, his three friends on his tail.

“Blimey, I’m so sorry, Longbottom. My aim was off,” Earl lied, struggling even now to hide his grin. Not that Longbottom noticed. He had eyes only for the book which he’d begun dabbing off with a paper towel.

“Ever heard of scourgify?” Effie drawled, her wand at the ready. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d land a detention thanks to Earl.

“No! No!” Longbottom protested, still meticulously soaking up ink. “It’s not exact enough, it could ruin the tome. I have to act fast. As long as the ink is still wet it is easier to separate from the old dry ink. That and the colour are very useful when building the spell to extract the ink.”

Effie yawned, taking a seat on the table top, some parchment crinkling beneath her. It was enough to make Longbottom wince. He seemed to consider whether to ask her to get up, but wisely returned his attentions to the ruined book.

“Anyway,” Earl said, annoyance tinging his voice, “as I was saying, my aim was off. I meant to hit your bag.”

Finally, Longbottom froze. As if it had only just dawned on him that they were not there out of the goodness of their hearts. Such a fucking dork. His pause was enough for Scorpius to fish the book from beneath him and toss it into the air. With an expert flick of his wand, he stopped the book’s fall before Longbottom could catch it and allowed it to rotate slowly between them.

“I don’t think the librarian would appreciate this kind of treatment of the books.”

“No?” Scorpius raised a brow. “I should have just let it drop then?”

You shouldn’t have thrown it in the first place, Scorpius supplied. It was what Longbottom would have said, had he had a bloody backbone. The pushover was basically begging for this.

“I really need to treat that book.”

“Longarse, my friend, don’t make a face like that,” Earl teased, laying a heavy arm around the Ravenclaw’s shoulder. “We’re here to help.”

Again, Longbottom said nothing.

“You’re studying so hard,” Lysander supplied. He ran a finger over the many books strewn across the table. “Learning is much easier in a group.”

“Let’s have a little quiz!” At random, Effie grabbed a book from the table and opened it, scanning its content with a critical eye. “For every wrong answer, Head Boy here will dock some points. Are you ready?”

Scorpius tensed at that. Any and all point changes needed to be logged to prevent ‘misuse of power’. It could and would be traced back to him if they started fucking around with it. Weasley would have his head. Twice.

“Will you return my book if I get them correct?”

“Yeah, whatever,” Effie waved a dismissive hand. “Right, tell me everything about verbena.”

Longbottom’s eyes, fixed on the levitating book, didn’t so much as widen at the vague request of “everything”. This was right in his wheelhouse.

“Verbena, commonly known as vervain, is a magenta flowering plant used primarily in medicinal remedies like the cure for the common cold. It is known to be anti-inflammatory, antibacterial, antispasmodic and -“

“Antispas- what?”

“Antispasmodic, against spams. Muscle cramps.”

He stared at them.

“Was he correct? About the verbena?” Effie asked Lysander, not bothering to cross-check with the text on her lap. Lysander nodded and Scorpius sagged with relief, as did Longbottom.

“You went easy on him, Ef.”

“I think he went pretty hard, reciting the fucking dictionary,” Earl laughed, his hold on Longbottom tightening.

“It’s an encyclopaedia,” the Ravenclaw whispered.

“You’re a smart little guy.” Earl tousled his hair. “Kinda like our man Lysander over here. But you know what the difference is?”

Longbottom regarded him, his face bright with mild panic. Maybe because he didn’t have the answer to this question, Scorpius thought.

“Lysander is not so fucking annoying about it.”

With that, Earl grabbed the ink stained book out of mid air, one of the pages tearing from his rough handling. He chucked it at the Ravenclaw who pressed it against his white shirt without second thought.

“I’m going to tell the librarian,” Longbottom whispered angrily, reaching for the loose page still in Earl’s hand. Panic rose in Scorpius at the threat.

“Shouldn’t you tidy up first?”

With a frown, the Ravenclaw surveyed his desk. It was enough that he missed Scorpius’ silent incantation, sending books, parchment and quills flying.

“What a mess,” Effie sneered.

They left the swot to deal with it and gathered their own belongings. On their way to the exit, they passed the other Longbottom, likely on her way to her brother. Earl couldn’t help but trip the girl as she walked by, earning a glare from her and a laugh from Effie.

Chapter 4: Blood Soaked

Chapter Text

Hogwarts lunch was, of course, second only to Hogwarts dinner. A delicious buffet of roast chicken and sausages, steamed vegetables, potatoes of all varieties and heaping servings of pudding all weighed down the house tables. Chatter and the clattering of dishes filled the Great Hall in a clamour, the four house tables supervised by the professors. None of them seemed to be looking close enough, however, to notice what was happening at the farthest end of the Slytherin table, where the Quidditch team had gathered.

Scorpius watched in amusement as his friends stuffed their mouths with sausages and potatoes, refereed by Aaron Marling, Quidditch team captain. Only two potatoes and one sausage link left, Earl was in the lead and the clear winner. Albus was a good eater and stood a decent chance against Urs and Camilla, Scorpius's fellow chasers. But competing against broadly built, tall Earl, the odds were severely stacked against him. It was a mystery to Scorpius why Albus continued to race Earl at all. He himself declined the team’s invitation to join each time. Nothing fun about a stuffed stomach weighing you down or worse, its contents wanting back out the way they came in.

Effie shared his sentiment and had waved off Earl’s demand she ‘witch the fuck up’ and race them. He was lucky she hadn’t cursed him when he’d suggested that she knew her way around a sausage or two.

The beater was watching Earl darkly enough that Scorpius wondered if she would rig the competition and make Earl choke on that last bit of potato. She didn’t, sparing them all a scene.

Albus rested his head on the table in defeat, heaving from the effort. It was a saving grace they didn’t have training tonight, though Scorpius supposed that Aaron wouldn’t have endorsed these shenanigans if they did.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Albus moaned at Earl, Urs and Camilla agreeing.

The same spectacle as last week. Scorpius sighed and glanced at his watch, then at the Gryffindor table.

Weasley was still busy eating among family. Well, he supposed some of them had to be her friends. They couldn’t all be related, could they? No matter though, she wasn’t engaging in much conversation, but rather staring at her plate. If she was in that kind of mood around people she liked, he couldn’t imagine what their afternoon together would look like.

Determined to beat her to their study, he excused himself from the table. His friends’ protest was short-lived, most of them were much too full to even talk. Poor Al, he was such a charming guy when he wasn’t stuffing his face with food. Scorpius snorted to himself, as he leisurely made his way upstairs.

As per usual, he took the shortcut through a second floor corridor. This part of the castle tended to be empty around dinner time as it lead only to classrooms and offices. Tonight, someone loitered at the end of the corridor. It was only in the moment that Scorpius realised all of the paintings along the wall were empty, that he recognised the other person.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Seth Weasley pushed off of the wall to face him, hands in his pockets. Despite the casual stance, his jaw was tight, his chin angled slightly up.

“What’s up, Weasley?” Scorpius drawled.

Before giving a response, more students gathered behind Seth. Lorcan was there, never straying far from Seth’s side. And a redhead Ravenclaw. It was an ambush, clearly, but it wasn’t until Allie Longbottom joined them that it dawned on Scorpius what it might be about.

“You got a problem?” His fingers twitched for his wand but he resisted the urge. Four witnesses to say he started it.

“I was gonna ask you the same,” Seth said as if it were a threat. His face was twisted with dislike, betraying the act he put on every time Albus stuck them in a room together. It seemed that good will towards his cousin had limits. Had Seth just been waiting for a chance to repay Scorpius for the fire cracker?

“I’m not the one ganging up on someone in the hallway,” Scorpius snarled.

“Not a hallway,” Longbottom said calmly, her face half cast in shadow. “But a library?”

Bull’s eye. He’d known the moment he had seen her show up. Maybe not only the firecracker then. Maybe an ink pot, which he hadn’t bloody commanded in the first place.

“I gotta say, for someone who likes to hide his strength in numbers I’m impressed you’re still here, Malfoy,” Seth sneered, gesturing between them. “I heard your coward of a father always split when things got dicey.”

“Another word about my father, you piece of shit,” Scorpius growled, fist clenching around his wand which he hadn’t realised he’d drawn. Just then, Lysander and Earl jogged down the corridor to flank Scorpius.

“Does talking about daddy hit a nerve? He must be so disappointed.” Seth apparently was unperturbed by the new arrivals. The odds were still stacked in his favour.

“The fuck’s going on here,” Earl snapped, temper straight to one hundred.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Just having a little chat about how the Malfoy family has a history of being assholes.”

Scorpius had thought he knew the name of the game. Thought this was about Longbottom and the library, but it seemed Seth had different plans. One he wasn’t able to anticipate. Especially not with his blood boiling so violently that he didn’t register what Lysander was saying to him.

“But I guess you’re not quite what dear old dad needed to restore his name, are you?”

“Cool it,” Lysander cut in. Seth didn’t spare him so much as a glance.

“That’s what you’re compensating for, right? That’s why you’re such an asshole? Because daddy doesn’t love you?”

The curse exploded from Scorpius's wand before Lysander could stop it. Four were returned in response.

Scorpius didn’t care. Not about the hexes flashing through the corridor. Not about the moans of pain as some of them hit their targets. Not about anything except shutting Weasley up.

“Ease up!” One of the girls called, but to no avail. Earl was by Scorpius's side giving as good as he was getting, while Lysander focused on protecting them. His shield charm couldn’t catch all that was flung their way, but it did a good job of deflecting most of it.

The string of curses fell from Scorpius's lips without a thought. One after the other to get it all out. Get it off of him, this oily rage he needed to shake.

Only when footsteps sounded anew, did the fighting ease. The sight of Albus and Effie running at them full speed was enough to stop it.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Effie shouted, shouldering past anyone in her way to get to Scorpius. Albus followed, but he came to a stop between the two fronts, looking bewildered from one side to the next.

All of them were sporting scabs, traces of blood and various ailments. Even the redhead, who’d kept back without engaging in the duel, had been hit by an errant curse. More than half of her face was spotted in shades of violet and burgundy. Seth, however, looked the worst, sporting burn marks which were sure to turn into blisters. Apparently he had forgone shielding himself completely. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough for this dragon dung he’d fabricated. How dare he speak about Scorpius's father.

Scorpius shook off Effie’s hand on his shoulder. It was meant to soothe him he was sure, but -

“Who doesn’t want a little loving from Iffy to calm down?” Seth pressed through clenched teeth.

If Albus hadn’t finally stepped up to say something, Effie would have surely bitten that worm’s head off.

“Seth, settle down, yeah?”

“It’s hard to believe anyone could love a Malfoy.”

“Hey, man!” Albus was more insistent now, though he still swayed uncertainly between them. “That’s enough.”

“No, it isn’t,” Allie snapped, finally speaking up again. “These spitfires have taken their frustrations out on others for long enough! And no one says anything? Don’t even get me started on you, Al. Always conveniently looking away when they pull something. Who are you kidding?”

Albus said nothing, his face impossible to read for once.

“What’s your bloody problem,” Scorpius bit out, for all of their arguing still not understanding.

“YOU ARE THE PROBLEM!” Seth thundered. “You’re just a clone of your death eater father. He thought he was a step above horse shit, with his outdated fucking ideals. Now, you’re scraping at the bottom of the barrel, taking it out on good people who are just a bit different. But you’re both just bullies. Get it straight, assholes, you lost. Take your self-loathing elsewhere and stop projecting it on others!”

Seven years of accumulated dislike and anger broke through the surface. A family feud which had dragged on for centuries and had seemed forgotten. It was anything but resolved.

“Do you realise how pathetic this is?” Scorpius hissed.

How dare he say any of this? It was wrong, misplaced. He had no right. They didn’t know anything about him or his family.

It was the Longbottom girl who stepped forward. “It’s by far less pathetic than humiliating a good person for his intelligence.”

Earl snorted at that. With a sharp glance and a wave of her wand, Longbottom had taken his ability to speak. How dare she touch him? They were hypocrites. Liars. They were wrong about him. About all of them.

“That’s pathetic,” she said, “to make others suffer out of boredom. Compensating for your deficient emotional intelligence by bullying others. You all disgust me.”

“Oh, come on,” Scorpius scoffed. “It’s not my fault your brother is a loser. Can nobody take a bloody joke anymore?”

Pain exploded across Scorpius's face. Someone screamed as he collapsed, arms clumsily catching him. He blinked blood out of his eye, just in time to see Longbottom leave. Then to see Albus, rooted to the spot. Drawn in two direction.

“Scorp,” Albus muttered, his voice pained. Scorpius's vision went black again, hot blood running over his jaw now. His face burned still, Albus’ voice coming as if from under water. “The guys will take care of you, but… I gotta calm them down. I don’t know, I had no idea. I -“

Scorpius managed a nod. No words. There weren’t any to say that he understood. That Albus would always choose them. Even if Scorpius…

An incantation was the next thing he heard after he stopped listening to Al’s receding footsteps. Spoken again and again. Lysander’s familiar voice.

They’d ambushed him and with all that they’d said… he didn’t get it. Still didn’t get it. Longbottom… it had been a joke. Not a reason for Weasley to play shrink on him.

Weasley.

Weasley.

He’d forgotten all about her.

It seemed that with his mind’s clarity returning, his sanity did not.

“Seriously, fuck her?” Earl raged, when Scorpius mentioned her.

“For once, I agree with this idiot,” Effie argued. “Did you miss what just went down here?”

“Yeah, and she’s on their side,” Scorpius muttered. His head spun as he sat up but the dizziness quickly faded, thanks to Lysander working his magic. It had numbed the pain, giving Scorpius the strength to stand up again.

“You’re a moron,” Lysander said simply. “You need to go to the hospital wing.”

It hurt to glare, so Scorpius ended up wincing. “I need to -“

Pretend it hadn’t happened. Occupy his mind. Do anything but try to process the insanity of the last fifteen minutes. “I don’t know. I need to go. We’ll talk later.”

He had the vague sense that they were debating restraining him and dragging him off. If not to the hospital wing then at least to the common room. Where questions would be asked. News would spread like wildfire.

No.

Just move on. Get through this day. Lysander had patched him up. He was fine. He was healing. He was -

“You’re late.”

Weasley had been bent over the desk when he entered, only looking up when the door clicked shut behind him. Her brows were furrowed, lips white, eyes fiery. The moment she saw him, hands raised in surrender, her face slackened. He must look worse than he thought, if it stopped even her in her tracks.

“You should see the healer,” she said quietly, but he shook his head.

“Lysander put a healing charm on it already.”

Her eyes widened, then she bunched her brows again. So stern. “Scamander might be a good wizard, but he is no healer.”

“Why do you care?” Scorpius was tired. Much too tired for his anger to reawaken. Shouldn’t she be glad? After her friends and family did all the dirty work for her? This was her moment to gloat.

“Have you seen yourself?” It was the tone he had expected her to use, but the words weren’t right.

He hadn’t, but his friends had, and they’d called him crazy for coming here. Perhaps he should have listened.

“If I go to the hospital wing, we’re all gonna have a lot to explain.”

Including your beloved family.

Why couldn’t he just hold his tongue? Bracing himself for the snide retort, Scorpius blinked when Weasley pointed at the sofa and said: “Sit.”

-

Simply put, Malfoy looked atrocious.

The gash across one side of his face was no longer bleeding, but the evidence that it had bled - and a lot - was all over him. His neck was red and sticky with blood, his shirt collar soaked. Lysander might have staunched it, but the cut was still raw and shimmering.

Malfoy was an idiot for coming here. That was another simple fact. The only motivation she could fathom to drive such a decision was that he wanted her to feel guilty. And she did.

That was part of the complicated bit. The warring feelings and thoughts within her, some of which she couldn’t place. So, instead of addressing them immediately, she did what she was good at: Finding a problem and fixing it.

The problem: Malfoy’s face.

The solution: A water bowl, a clean cloth and a tub of salve. All of it conjured and the water heated with a few quick spells. By the time she raised the cloth to Malfoy’s temple it was lukewarm.

He winced.

“You really don’t have to do this.”

“Hold still,” she commanded. “You’ll tear it open if you keep going like that. It’d be best if you stop talking, actually.”

He looked darkly at her, but obeyed.

Rose secretly wished he would argue back. That he’d curse at her. That way, she could tap back into that anger she’d felt an hour ago. Hell, the anger she had felt mere moments ago, ready to tear into him. He was head boy for crying out loud! Surely that should have stopped the bullying at last, but no. He’d still gone in on Carl. What had he been thinking?

That was the emotion she’d been prepared to wield. Anger. Now, she was left with pity. From the moment he’d stepped through that door it was the emotion which had quickly won out. Pity and guilt and resentment. Though she didn’t know for whom.

“Seth,” she started, but stopped to clear her throat. “I know he likes pranks sometimes, but really he’s a peaceful person…” Her voice faltered.

It hadn’t been her intention to jump on the defence. But it was Seth. He was one of her dearest relatives. He was… occasionally volatile, but he wasn’t violent. He didn’t do this sort of thing. He was funny and annoying and this, this was a gross misrepresentation of his character.

“He only said he wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

For a split second her eyes darted to Malfoy’s, though she quickly averted them. Unprepared to meet whatever lay in his expression.

Rose swallowed and continued to dab away the blood.

Merlin he looked wretched. This close, she couldn’t help but be confronted with the gash in his face, the brutal cleft in his features. Rose swallowed the lump which was trying to lodge itself high in her throat.

“Did he do this?”

For a moment, Malfoy said nothing. Only grimaced when the cloth touched his face.

“Longbottom,” he said.

Rose stilled. Needing to avert her face, she rinsed the cloth in the water bowl to remove some of the blood. Red tendrils curled on the water’s surface, slowly dyeing all of it pink.

“Her family is a sore spot for her,” she found herself needing to explain again. “They’ve been through so much.”

-

Why she was helping him, why she was explaining this, it was beyond him. It was not what Scorpius had wanted or expected in coming here. He did know, however, that he was sick and tired of the past being brought up. He was sick of other people’s actions being projected onto him. Earl was the one who started in on Longbottom. Earl who always got himself into mischief.

But Earl’s not a Malfoy, Scorpius thought grimly, and apparently that’s all that counts.

“Why?” Rose asked.

Her face was close to his, but she still wasn’t meeting his eyes. Scorpius didn’t blame her. He would find something else to concentrate on, too, if he was in her shoes. Why not choose the apparently massive gash on his face? Maybe it had been a bad idea to allow her so close when he was already injured. It seemed that he was full of bad ideas today. Part of him had expected her to be rough. To resentfully patch him up after ordering him to sit. However, Weasley was anything but. Her touch was cautious and gentle and if he hadn’t been so exhausted, it might have made him angry how delicately she was handling him.

Finally, he asked, “Why what?”

“Why did you treat him like that? Why do you treat people like that? Why can’t you just leave them alone?”

There was a knot in his throat now, making it difficult to swallow or to speak. After all, what could he say that she would accept? Longbottom was insufferable. A massive nerd.

“He’s exhausting,” Scorpius said at length. Weasley’s hand froze in midair, so he quickly added, “Earl was looking for entertainment, and Longbottom happened to be there. He’s… an easy target?”

Her expression indicated that he was an easy target for her, too, should she choose to amplify his pain.

“It was funny at the time. To us, I mean, he sorta played into it without knowing.”

“Really, Malfoy? You’re tormenting a student because you were bored? If you did it out of hate at least there’d be a point to it.”

Ire flared in her face as she finally looked at him. A withering glare.

“Listen,” he hissed, “if there’s nothing you can do to change the way people see you, you might as well do right by their expectation.”

“That is such dragon shit,” Rose laughed coldly. “And plain stupid.”

“Is it? Because it’s exactly what you and your family have done. Dislike me because of who my father is.”

Weasley opened her mouth to protest but as if remembering something, she closed it again.

“You’re so stuck in your own point of view,” she said with unexpected softness. “I believe Uncle Harry forgave your father somehow. My dad… not so much.”

She had gone back to treating his wound, perhaps to keep herself busy.

“It might seem unfair to you that people or… my family holds a grudge. But your father was a death eater, he fought for the wrong side.”

“He was a kid, Weasley.”

It was so unfair.

“So were my parents,” she said softly. That lump rose back into his throat, rendering him speechless. “My uncle George lost his twin to Voldemort. My cousin, Teddy, lost both of his parents, who must have been lovely, spirited people. We’ve grown up hearing stories of these incredible, brave witches and wizards who we never got to meet. The grandparents Al would have had, lost at such a young age.” Her hand stilled in midair, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “Even those who survived… it’s unfathomable really. My uncle Bill is a curse breaker. He’s dealt with many nasty curses, but he said what happened during the war, he was mauled by that werewolf who hadn’t even transformed. That is so unnatural. So beyond cruel. And Allie and Carl’s grandparents are still lying in St Mungo’s.” She swallowed. “Tortured out of their wits. Another pair of wonderful people, pureblood people even, lost to fascist folly. This is… you have to be aware of this. And maybe it’s unfair to project this on you, to resent you for it, but… I don’t think we owe you a clean slate, Scorpius.”

His mouth went dry at the use of his first name. At all she had said with blatant, brutal honesty. We don’t owe you.

“It wasn’t me who did that. I wasn’t even born!”

“Neither were we when our family were hunted, killed or tortured.” It was like a slap in the face, and the blood he felt rushing into it made the cut pound.

“It - wasn’t - me.” He repeated, pushing each word out through clenched teeth. Much like the fist he was clenching at his side.

“But it could have been?”

“What?”

“Could it not have been you? A bully turned deatheater?”

“You’re absolutely insane. You’re entire family -“

“Answer then.” There was only cold challenge in her face. The cloth was soaking her skirt where it lay bunched between her fingers. “Answer the question, Malfoy.”

“No. Of course not.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Can you?” She looked like she’d laugh, so he pressed on. “Oh, so it’s all predetermined is it? No pitfalls for you, valiant, infallible Gryffindor.”

That frown on her face deepened, shifting freckles with it. It was discontent, plain and clear, because she’d proven his point without realising. Whether she didn’t deign to give an answer or didn’t have one, Rose tipped a finger against his chin to turn it, and then went back to treating his wound. Fresh blood tinted the wash cloth. No doubt thanks to his ignoring her warning to hold still. She didn’t rub it in, however.

“Tell me what’s the point in trying,” he said, when she finally took a break to unscrew the tub she’d procured earlier. “It’s not like you ever gave me the benefit of the doubt. Why make the effort to prove something everyone has already made their mind on…”

Her mouth tightened. Wordlessly, she began dabbing the ointment onto his wound. The effect was immediate. The pain dulled to a mere hum as soothing cold spread into his skin and flesh. It was tempting to close his eyes in relief but he kept them on her even though she still refused to meet them.

“No point in trying to be,“ better, kind, different, “anything else. At the end of the day, I’ll always be a Malfoy.”

Her eyes zipped to his. She must have surprised herself by doing so, because she held his stare. Breathlessly, judging by the sharp inhale she took as soon as she broke eye contact. She sucked in a breath as she broke eye contact to look for the tub. As if she’d forgotten about it. Delicately, she picked it back up and refastened the screw top.

“It feels better. What is that?”

“I’s a healing ointment,” she said and winced. “It’s home made.”

It took all the effort not to show his shock, not to offend her, not to rush to the hospital wing and seek aid. She noticed anyhow, and snorted. “You can relax, I didn’t make it.”

Thank bloody Merlin for that.

“Sorry, I just… remember.”

Every single Herbology lesson they’d shared. Every countless time she had managed to tear, wilt, drown, sear, plain murder even the sturdiest plant.

“Carl did.”

Whatever he had felt before was nothing compared to the way his stomach dropped out now. Longbottom. Carl. The wound on his face was healing thanks to the boy who had been the catalyst for it. It was twisted, wrong.

“He’s talented,” Weasley said, and he couldn’t help but feel there was a barb in that truth directed at him. Or at what he and his friends had made of that talent.

“The Longbottoms have this huge garden, and their own greenhouse, too. Carl and Neville, sorry, the professor, spend hours in there, experimenting. Sometimes when I visit, they don’t even come out for a cup of tea.” The knot in his stomach tightened. They weren’t things he was meant to know, he was sure. “This is only one of the many home remedies they’ve given us to test. I keep this one handy because, well,” she gestured at his face. “It’s magic.”

Red flared on her cheeks once she realised what she’d said. He might have teased her for both the blush and the silly descriptor, but he bit his tongue. Just this once.

Rose started speaking again, perhaps to gloss over her embarrassment or to fill the silence. Scorpius didn’t know. A private sort of smile shaped her lips as she spoke, gently working the ointment in and around his wound.

He definitely hadn’t been meant to learn any of these things. The inner workings of her family, of the Longbottoms. Although he hadn’t pushed her on it, the knowledge felt intrusive. The mere consideration of sharing about his family life was unimaginable, after all. What was there to tell beyond a grandfather in prison, a grandmother broken by it, and his parents… There had not been a letter yet this school year. No word on how they were faring after - the thought trailed into a welcome emptiness. Into a graveyard in his mind where unwanted thoughts went to be forgotten. There, Scorpius had also stowed each nerve which Seth Weasley had hit with precision.

He’d rather focus on the other Weasley. Rose Weasley who was telling of her home life as if driven by an invisible force. With her family tree larger and wilder than his meticulously pruned one, he didn’t attempt to keep the names apart. In the end, the who-is-who of all did not matter, only the way in which she spoke of them. The way she forgot herself in the words, a fondness in her eyes rather than their usual sharpness. Her brows bunched in emphasis as she spoke, the very expression he’d mocked her for so versatile now. So near, Scorpius could have counted her freckles all varying in shape and size and colour if given the time.

Awareness jolted through him, and Scorpius scooted away from her and muttered a thanks, half expecting her to protest that she wasn’t done.

But Weasley let her salve smeared finger sink, the expression on her face unreadable.

Fingers brushed his and he jerked back as the weight of the ointment dropped into his hand.

“You’ll have to reapply it,” she said sternly, sensing his protest, “if you truly want to avoid the hospital wing. Unless you were expecting me to come and pamper you-“

“It’s fine.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Well.” Weasley slapped her knees and scooted away from him. She vanished the items as easily as she’d summoned them. The exhale that followed was contemplative, and her eyes indeed wandered to the desk where their work awaited. Scorpius truly had expected to take care of it after he’d let her rage wash over him, but it had never come to that. Now it was late, the remaining weekend seeming to dwindle away in light of the homework he’d been given, too.

Weasley seemed to follow his train of thought. “I can just -“

“No,” he said quickly. He’d leave it at that usually but she’d been so forthcoming, so he forced himself to continue. “I’m not ready to go back.”

And face the music, the questions, face Albus.

The head girl shrugged and settled at the desk. They managed a couple of tasks, even though tiredness began to nip at Scorpius the moment they started.

“You know we’d make a decent team,” she observed, then added, “if you weren’t such a pain in the neck.”

Scorpius snorted, regretting it immediately. It was not outright pain he felt thanks to the salve, but a tightness which reminded him that his skin was still injured and sore.

“By the way,” he was an idiot for bringing it up, truly taking the cake for stupid decisions today, “what did you want to complain to me about? I remember you promised me quite a dressing down.”

Her hair whipping like vengeance across the Quidditch pitch came to mind.

“Oh, that.” Again, her brows furrowed. Perhaps she was contemplating whether he was still worth that complaint in light of the much larger and much more recent fuck up. She sighed. “Just… Rockwood wrecking havoc on innocent third graders?”

Ah, so the blonde Weasley had snitched. He shouldn’t be surprised.

“I’d nearly forgotten about those cauldrons,” he admitted.

“Forgot about telling me, you mean. Or at least dealing out the proper punishment.” It was true, he had not taken house points as he should have. “Did you even punish him at all?”

“Of course, I did!” Irritation etched her face, and Scorpius could kick himself for bringing this up. “I forbade him to copy homework for an entire week.

Worse than an angry glare was her now deadpan expression. Utterly unimpressed. “You’re meant to be unbiased.”

“Right, so you’re telling me you’re about to put your whole family in detention for trying to kill me?”

She gave him a look as if to say, Don’t be dramatic.

Scorpius only raised his brows at her.

“Well, if that’s your line of argument, how many points are you taking from Slytherin for bullying another student?”

He raised his hands in defeat at that.

“C’mon, Weasley, punishment for Earl doesn’t really come worse. And besides, it’s fostering him academically. As a spokesperson for the head mistress, that should be in your interest.”

That had been the wrong thing to say, he realised when something flashed in her eyes. Just then, he remembered his ruse about having a meeting with her to avoid this very conversation with Weasley yesterday.

If she’d seen through it for some reason she decided not to bring it up. Instead, she merely sighed again.

“You’d twist it so I have to deal with him anyway, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide his smirk which in turn caused him to wince.

“Oh, whatever, at least make it two weeks. Who knows, maybe he’ll get used to it.”

“Deal.”

“Oh, and you’re logging the cauldron thing and docking house points. No more dicking around, Malfoy.”

Scorpius had half a mind to protest, but then he nodded. He owed her that much for today. Owed her much more if he’d admit it to himself. But for now, deducting points from his own house, from his best friend, seemed like a good start to make it up to her.

“I think you’d better head back.”

Scorpius tapped the remaining stack of tasks that had been on today’s agenda.

“Don’t tell me you’re suggesting we shirk our responsibilities? I’m outraged.”

“Funny, Malfoy. I’ll keep going. But you need rest.”

“You’re serious.”

“Yes, I’m bloody serious.” She huffed a laugh. “I get phantom pains every time I look at your face.”

The tiredness in his bones grew heavier by the moment.

“I’ll catch you next week. And… thank you, Rose. You’re good at this comfort thing.”

There was more he wanted to say, more he should say not to leave them in this awkward spot, but he couldn’t push the words out. Couldn’t tell her that he didn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she had shown him today. Admitting that would soil that same kindness somehow.

She merely nodded, dismissing him.

And so, Scorpius left. Not catching the blush that bloomed across her cheeks much like her name had from his lips. And yet he hadn’t even realised he’d used it.

-

There was no one in the common room apart from Albus. Uninjured but looking as worn as Scorpius felt.

“Your face looks better.”

“Yeah.”

He did not dare answer the question that lay in Albus’ eyes. In fact, he felt awkward even returning to that moment in the head student study. A moment much too delicate to bring out into the rest of the castle and risk tainting it.

“They’ve calmed down. For now,” Albus said at least. “The anger, it’s… I guess, aired. A bit.”

He wouldn’t meet Scorpius's eyes. This was worse than the firecracker incident. It wasn’t just the usual house rivalry or a family feud born anew. This time, was a wedge between him and Al.

“So,” Scorpius swallowed, “everything back to normal?”

His friend shrugged, forcing indifference much like Scorpius. “Guess so. Bit more hostile, bit more outright.”

Albus was awful at pretending. He looked as though someone had died.

“Listen, Al, I’m really sorry. We shouldn’t have -“

“It’s fine, bro.” He said it too quickly.

“I mean it!”

“I know, me, too.” Albus forced a smile.

“Are you okay?”

Albus stilled, then shrugged. “Def.”

A blatant lie.

“Just a pretty fucked up day is all.”

Scorpius stared at Albus, the words halfway to his lips. He swallowed them and turned for their dormitory. With each step, that knot in his stomach seemed to tighten further.

“Are you alright?” Albus called after him, and Scorpius raised a hand to confirm.

Chapter 5: Bested by a Bowtruckle

Chapter Text

No-one snitched.

No-one told a soul what had happened.

None of their lies explaining the injuries covering multiple students contradicted though they had not coordinated them.

Scorpius had gotten into a scuffle with a bowtruckle which he admitted with adequate embarrassment whenever asked. It was a believable story for the cut on his face which had shrunk to half its original size. Still nasty, but not evidently a curse wound.

“Mate, that’s bloody embarrassing,” Aaron said in response to the cover up, looking highly unimpressed. They were just emerging from the dungeons on their way to breakfast, accompanied by two sixth grade girls. One of them was a prefect, Harriet, who was more than amenable to Scorpius's charms.

“It’s so brave of you to take on a bow truckle. Without a wand no less,” she cooed, not questioning where the heck his wand had been.

“It’s idiotic if you ask me,” Aaron muttered. It was one of many opinions he’d voiced that morning, all of them without prompting. A Quidditch player had to look after his health and needed to be in perfect condition to get wrecked in a match. That was what Aaron’s worry boiled down to at the end. Save the injuries for the pitch.

Scorpius hid his wince as Aaron clapped him on a shoulder, bones still aching from the fight. Falling into conversation with the two girls, Aaron did not notice when Scorpius slowed his steps enough to fall behind and eventually turn back into the Entrance Hall. Not giving himself time to think, he followed after the student who had caught his eye leaving the Great Hall moments before. It was a mistake he soon regretted, for he was now face to face with Carl Longbottom.

He didn’t know what to say.

Longbottom startled upon noticing him. His eyes darted to the cut and lingered.

This was bloody awkward, he needed to say something.

“Thanks.”

Longbottom flinched at that, less confusion than wariness on his face. Scorpius pointed at his own cheek, which only seemed to make it only worse.

Well, shit, Longbottom probably thinks I’m blaming him for the attack.

“The, uh, ointment. Thanks.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Longbottom said slowly. By the way he was standing, his bag clutched to him as if Scorpius would tear into his belongings again, it was obvious he didn’t trust Scorpius one bit.

“Weasley,” he corrected himself, “Rose, she used your ointment. On the cut,” Scorpius paused as more students passed on their way back from breakfast, “from the bowtruckle?”

He tried to communicate his meaning with his eyes.

“You’re welcome?” Longbottom spoke even more hesitantly than before. Hearing those words from Longbottom was perverse somehow. You’re welcome. As if he’d had a choice in the matter. And Scorpius was doing this all wrong. It wasn’t what he’d meant to say in the first place, thanks. This whole spur of the moment be-the-better-man idea seemed ridiculous now.

“How’s the book?” Scorpius asked when the right words still didn’t want to come out.

“I need to go,” Longbottom said, avoiding Scorpius's eye. With a nod as if to himself, Longbottom rushed up the stairs leaving Scorpius unsure what to do with himself

It was early to be going to class and far too late to be going to breakfast. Despite that fact and despite his lack of appetite, Scorpius again headed for the Great Hall, wading against the stream of students now leaving it. However, he didn’t make it far.

A shock of red popped into view and headed straight for him, a look of warning on her face.

“Weasley, what -“

She reached his side, grabbed his arm and pulled, giving only one whispered command: “Walk.”

He might have wondered what this was all about, had he had the time to. Unfortunately, Weasley’s best efforts did not save them from -

“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley.”

The voice was sharp, heavily accented and unmistakably that of the headmistress.

As one, they came to a stop and turned.

McGonagall towered above even Scorpius, her height barely corrupted by age. Her eagle eyes were fixed on them past the tip of her nose, the stern look on her face certainly not a good omen.

“I should think you have time to come to my office before class.”

-

They hadn’t dared whisper while trailing after the headmistress. Scorpius barely dared look at Weasley. Or maybe he was avoiding her eyes. Not that he’d admit it. It was too late anyway, now that they were seated before the headmistress, her sturdy oak desk their only protection. McGonagall stopped tapping her fingers on the sturdy desk, and Scorpius held his breath.

“As classes are awaiting you both,” she began, each word paving the way for what was to come, “I shall get to the matter at hand.”

To say she did not seem happy would be an understatement. Weasley sat on her fingers, no doubt to keep from fiddling like he’d seen her do in this office last year.

“Can either of you tell me what transpired this weekend?”

Scorpius finally let out the breath he’d been holding. Not from relief, but confirmation of the awaiting doom. It had been a foolish hope that they could hide this from her.

“Could you elaborate, professor?”

Oh, she’s good at the innocent act.

McGonagall looked her over, as if deciding. “Multiple students were injured. A corridor left to look worse for wear.”

Weasley gasped. Actually gasped. The audacity itself was not surprising, but it was a different beast to witness her direct it towards a teacher - the headmistress no less!

“A valiant effort at seeming surprised, Miss Weasley, and yet your very co-conspirator is wearing the evidence clear as day. On his face.”

Those sharp eyes turned on him, pinning him to the spot.

“Professor, it was a -“

“Bowtruckle accident, Mr. Malfoy?” Shit. “Must I remind you that unlike our gullible student body I know you have not taken Care of Magical Creatures in two years? Nor have bowtruckles been on the Herbology curriculum even if you did. Do tell where you encountered this elusive creature which so ruthlessly disfigured you?”

Scorpius winced, and this time it wasn’t from physical pain.

“I would rather not say, Professor.”

That was all he could think to offer knowing she would not accept silence. Weasley deflated slightly beside him.

“Neither will the paintings. Such gossipmongers the lot of them, and yet they would have me believe that corridor blew itself up.” She looked between the two of them, and Scorpius wondered if Weasley looked as guilty as he felt. “I hope you are both ashamed. That either of you is capable of such a thing. Fighting and then lying about it. Though I suppose it was foolish of me to hope that a Weasley and a Malfoy could get along.”

“She had nothing to do with this, Professor.”

“But someone did, didn’t they?”

A trap, and he’d stepped right into it. Scorpius clamped his mouth shut, and McGonagall shook her head.

“I can hardly punish you as I have no hard proof. But I will inform you that a head student engaging in such misdemeanours is unacceptable. Mr. Malfoy if you give me the slightest doubt of a repetition of this behaviour, I will not hesitate to replace your positions.” McGonagall seemed to catch the glance he exchanged with Weasley, for she added, “Indeed. Both positions.”

She had placed that weight on his shoulders and addressed him directly, because she’d always known that Weasley hadn’t been involved. Not initially, at least. Scorpius had the sneaking suspicion she knew everything. Not from any first hand account, but simply because she was McGonagall. She knew everything.

“I should advise that you both do better. In your roles as head students and as a team. At least, you are cooperating in lying to me,” his chest tightened, “so I expect you will pass this task with ease.”

A clock chirped the hour and with it, the beginning of class.

“Think about it,” McGonagall said, halting them when they made to rise, “what you will leave behind when you move on from this school. Do you prefer to repeat history or do you dare plow a new path.” She hesitated, then sighed. “Off you go.”

-

Terrifying, absolutely terrifying.

Until this moment, Rose had only ever admired Professor McGonagall. Any reservations had been from respect rather than the fear she had felt just now. The utter embarrassment.

Malfoy looked similar to how she felt, his face even paler than usual. There wasn’t time for them to commiserate or to breathe a sigh of relief. They didn’t exchange any words as they rushed to class - Potions, as ever shared between Gryffindor and Slytherin - for fear the paintings would report back to the headmistress. This time, they might not turn a blind eye. This time, they weren’t incentivised to do so.

It was only when they had reached the classroom door, the clinking of vials sounding from inside, that they dared catch a breath. No one tended to linger in the dungeons, and not many paintings hung in the dark gloom.

“I have the feeling McGonagall isn’t happy with us,” Malfoy tried for humour.

Rose, her hand already on the door, only shook her head. “At least we didn’t lose our positions.”

For now.

McGonagall would make true of her threat to replace them, Rose was certain of it.

“We can come up with a plan of attack in our next meeting.”

“Tonight.” Rose didn’t look to see if he agreed. “We’re meeting tonight.”

With that, she pushed open the door.

Smoke already wafted in the classroom, tinting the air. Through it they could make out the professor at the front of the class, her attention now fixed on them. Professor Halifax, apparently informed about their potential delay, merely motioned for them to be seated and keep the disturbance to the lesson short.

Rose immediately scanned the room for Roxanne’s dark shock of hair, only to find it at the same table as her brother's. The Weasley siblings gave her an apologetic shrug as if to say that they’d tried to save her a seat. Her cousin Albus’s table, too, was occupied by Scamander. Leaving Rose only the free table at the back where Malfoy was already settling in.

Without a word, they began setting up their station. Everyone else was working around a shared cauldron, so they only bothered heaving one onto the table. Announced by the swishing of her robes, the professor approached them. Her deep set eyes watched them for a moment before she spoke, no doubt for flair.

“Draught of living death,” she told them, her voice even huskier than usual. They were still revising before diving into the seventh year material, then. It was a relief. Rose had heard plenty about the steep curve of complexity the last year brought with it, she would have hated to miss any vital information. “You two should have no trouble finishing on time. Don’t forget to hand in one sample each at the end.”

Rose nodded to communicate her understanding but again, the professor's eyes lingered. Her red lips curved to a smile, and she returned to her perch at the front of the class. Rose assumed she just liked to be unnerving. Both with her harsh-lined beauty and her dramatic mannerisms.

Leaving Malfoy to prepare their work station, Rose set off to collect the ingredients. On the way, she passed Roxanne and Seth’s table. Both of them had been trying to catch her attention it seemed.

“Where have you been?” Roxanne looked concerned, eyes darting between Rose and Malfoy, while Seth looked outright bothered by their late arrival.

“Sorting out your mess,” Rose hissed back, something like guilt flashing on Seth’s face, there one moment, gone the next.. It was only then Rose realised that Albus and Seth had taken up tables which were as far away from each other as possible. Coincidentally, she hoped and returned to her station.

The cauldron heated so swiftly, they almost needed to hurry in preparing the ingredients. Only that Rose reached for the dried Asphodel root at the exact same time Malfoy did. She tightened her fist around it.

“I always grind the root.” Rose stiffened at the childishness of her words.

“Am I allowed to juice the bean? Or is there some kind of application process I need to pass first?”

Before she could remind herself not to do it, Rose locked eyes with Malfoy. It was his fault, his fault entirely they’d stumbled into this mess and angered the headmistress. His fault Albus and Seth had their backs turned to each other. His fault her very head student position hung in the balance. And yet, she found herself smiling at him. Tentatively, but still, smiling. Because her heart had finally stopped hammering after rushing to class, after surviving that meeting with McGonagall. Terrifying, terrifying, terrifying and yet - exhilarating. That teetering feeling that Rose had gotten away with something.

-

A smile. That was a good start.

After she’d been avoiding his eyes all morning, Scorpius hadn’t been sure what to expect when Weasley finally looked at him. Part of him had wondered if the resentment had finally settled in. It was precisely why he had avoided her as well. Not ready to see the regret in her face at helping him rather than ripping into him.

But she didn’t seem resentful, only cautious. This was uncharted waters. An attempt at civility.

“I guess we could have that conversation now?” He suggested, glancing at her again after she’d given the green light to go about the bean juicing. The rhythmic crunch of the root under her pestle was her only response. “Unless you’re desperate for my company tonight.”

It slipped out before he could help himself. But she invited the teasing, dammit. The way she always looked so serious and contemplative, how could he not try to fluster her?

Fluster her he did. Her nostrils flared, her frown deepened and it could have been a trick of the light, but Scorpius thought he saw her cheeks darken.

“There are many more compelling things I could imagine doing which are not you.”

He let her innuendo hang there, forcing himself not to point it out. She’d been kind, and he shouldn’t push too far. Even though he was itching to. So many comments he could make beyond pointing out the implication of her sentence. About what she might do with her evening. Study most likely or do something else boring and banal. Gossip with her girlfriends if Effie was to be believed.

But civility, he reminded himself.

“I’m not losing this position on your account.” Weasley was steadily working the root into a fine powder.

“Nor am I.”

“I’m glad we have identified you as being the overarching issue,” she said wryly. A bit of juice squirted from the bean he had been wrestling with. Scorpius looked up in time to see Weasley’s lips twitch, as if she, too, were biting back some comment.

“Unfortunately, it seems like it’s on both of us to… fix it.”

It wasn’t an apology, not the kind he should be offering her. No, it wasn’t her fault they were in this mess. Her family’s, yes, and some of his own, of course, but not this specific Weasley’s fault. He could feel the stares of the other one bearing down on him, however. Scorpius didn’t give Seth Weasley the satisfaction of meeting the provocation head on. But the tug was there. The temptation to lean close to the head girl, encroach upon her space and then meet Seth’s stare. Make him wonder what they were talking about. He wanted to see Seth’s face livid. It was likely so already.

“Are you going to weigh in?”

Scorpius's eyes shot up and the face he met, scrunched in annoyance, was not Seth’s, it was Rose Weasley’s.

“Yeah, sorry, can you, uh, what was your idea?”

Weasley expertly rolled her eyes and snatched the bean from his hands.

“Give me that, doesn’t seem like you know your way around one.”

So, that had been the remark she’d swallowed before. Scorpius suppressed his smirk.

“I said we can’t allow ourselves any slip ups. No slacking.”

Just like that she’d crushed the bean and caught its juice, already reaching for the next one.

Feeling rather useless, Scorpius left the ingredient preparation to her and begun the actual brewing. Which consisted of adding wormwood infusion to the cauldron and letting it… bubble.

No slacking sounded like a lot of work. Not that he wasn’t taking the head-boying seriously, but it hadn’t been at the forefront of his mind. Not until he owed the head girl big time.

“Tell me what you need from me, and I’ll do it.”

He might as well have described a strange rash in an intimate area judging by the look on her face.

“I need you to take initiative and stop rolling all responsibility onto me.”

Weasley had managed to coax the juice from the second bean, and capture it to the last drop. Meanwhile, Scorpius added the powder she’d ground and stirred the cauldron. Just before he commenced the third rotation, Weasley grabbed his arm and halted him.

“Twice, not thrice.”

“Right.”

She let go of his arm, leaving behind silver-grey stains from the bean juice on his crisp shirt. They both stared at it, then each other, then went back to their tasks. Scorpius felt uncomfortably warm from all of the awkwardness and his fuck-up on the instructions. He was contributing as much to this potion as he had been to their head duties. As good as nothing. If her line of thinking was the same, she didn’t show.

“And what’s the end goal? Making McGee happy?” he asked.

“Oh, Merlin.” He raised a brow at her groan. “McGee? Really?”

“What about it?”

“You’re so cool, Malfoy,” she said drily. Rich coming from her. “The end goal is a good record. A glowing review of leadership and teamwork. The only thing worse than not getting head girl is getting it and being bad at it,” she concluded in a mutter, gently sliding the sloth brain into the potion.

Just like that, she’d also taken on his task of brewing the damn thing. Resigning, Scorpius slumped back into his chair.

“Right, so we have to be good together.”

“We have to be great together.”

“And prove it somehow.”

Weasley’s eyebrows bunched in concentration as she crosschecked with the recipe. It was the juice next, he knew and added four drops. Laughable really, having to squeeze multiple of those pesky beans for a tiny yield like this. Weasley, however, had somehow managed to drain those beans for all they were worth. They could almost brew another batch given the time. She really had a knack for this, much unlike her talent when it came to Herbology.

“Instead of just sitting around, at least start on clean up,” Weasley instructed as if she could scent his unkind thought. He supposed teamwork would have to start after the lesson.

As Scorpius arrived at the sink, Lysander was just finishing up with his own tools.

“I see she’s got you under her thumb. Surviving?” Lysander asked wryly, turning the faucet back on for him.

Scorpius shrugged.

“Weasley? Nah.” He paused for just a moment, thinking about how to sell it. “Let her think she’s got the upper hand. I’ll get a perfect potion out of it with minimal effort.”

Lysander huffed at that. “You sound just like Albus. Maybe next time I should link up with Weasley and let you two sluggers figure it out.”

Water pelted off of the silver knife Scorpius was washing. With a flick of his wrist he angled it to spray at Lysander, but the bastard lazily deflected any droplets flying his way. No point trying to mess with a shield charm master, Scorpius supposed, but grinned at his friend anyway.

By the time he got back to Weasley, she awaited with a dismayed glance. At least, she said nothing. Their potion was happily bubbling, and Rose stirred it three times, then noted down the exact time. Meticulous.

“So, any ideas for how we can convince McGee - McGonagall that we make a class team?”

“Do I really have to do everything?” Weasley snapped, again stirring and then marking down the time. She didn’t once look his way, not now that accuracy was of the essence.

“You’re rarely happy with anything I do -“

“Maybe if you did more, I’d find something to appreciate.”

“I can cheer you on as you go,” he offered in jest, but it was not well received. Weasley flashed him a glare, then quickly looked back at the clock to not miss her mark.

“You must be good at something, Malfoy.” Her frown deepened as she stirred yet again. Some of the purple liquid sloshed out. Scorpius jerked his hand out of the splash zone, itching to take the ladle from her.

“Should be almost done, no?” She was watching the clock again, but according to his calculation she had stirred often enough.

“Does it look done to you?” When he grabbed the book to check, she said, “It’s meant to be turning clear, but it’s going darker and darker.”

Right. He still skimmed the page, finding exactly what she had just told him. No mention of the dark purple the potion was now.

“Give me that.” She ripped the book from his hands, poring over it herself. He didn’t dare inspect the potion. She’d probably blame him if he touched it at all. “I just don’t get it. I’ve been stirring on the second.”

“How often though? Didn’t you stir twice while I was washing up?”

“Of course not, I needed to wait five and a half minutes after stirring through the bean juice.”

That still should have given her plenty of time. Maybe they had messed up by not stirring a last time. Although, if he recalled correctly the colour should fade swiftly after the juice was added. His eyes snagged on the small beaker in which they had collected the Sopophorous bean juice. The only item he hadn’t cleaned and yet, it was empty. His mouth went dry. It wasn’t his fault she hadn’t paid attention. She had been too busy disregarding his involvement. She should have noticed him pouring it in. But even then, he hadn’t stirred the juice in. Hadn’t marked the time, so how could she have stirred at the correct intervals?

The apology must have been written across his face when he met her eyes. Weasley’s face slackened, then followed his gaze to the beaker.

“What did you do?” She asked blandly.

“Listen, Weasley, it’s not like you paid attention either -“

“I didn’t pay attention? I’m the only one -”

“You didn’t even let me do a thing!”

“Oh, please, you clearly didn’t care!”

A loud pop interrupted their arguing. The potion, now a deep midnight purple, was throwing thick bubbles which popped like boiling mud. Both of them looked over just in time to see a large bubble reach its peak. But not in time to duck as it burst.

-

“Sopophorous bean. Do either of you know what its purpose is? Why it is added to the Draught of Living Death?”

This was now twice they were being reprimanded by a professor that morning. While this second round was less terrifying than their encounter with the headmistress, it was that much more humiliating.

The rest of the class had left by now, their stations cleaned much quicker than the one Rose shared with Malfoy. The tools he had cleaned before had been sprayed by the potion, along with both of their faces and uniforms. Luckily none of the other students had been hit, and Professor Halifax had had an antidote on hand just in case either of them accidentally swallowed any of the botched potion.

“It’s the reagent,” Rose offered finally as she could clearly not expect any help from Malfoy. His inaction was beginning to grind her gears.

“Exactly.” Halifax said it in a way that made Rose blush with embarrassment. She was expected to know this. Because she had always known, always been good at potions. There was rarely a mistake she made with a brew, especially not one of this magnitude. Blowing up a potion… her mother would likely follow suit when she heard.

“The juice is what sets the brew in motion. It activates the other ingredients and enhances their potency. Adding even one excess drop will spoil the potion, but adding double… you saw what happened.” Halifax’ dark eyes fixated them like they had at the beginning of the lesson, knowingly. “Today was meant for review. You are both lucky that this… mishap does not weigh into your grading. I expect more focus from you going forward. In two weeks we will begin with a most complex recipe which will accompany us for the rest of the term. By then I require at least three rolls of parchment on the correlation of an ingredient’s potency and measurement. I expect at least five examples to be included.”

Rose held in her groan. Not an official detention, but close enough. The fact that it wouldn’t show in her permanent record was only a small consolation.Students commonly made mistakes in class, but she couldn’t imagine Halifax treating a student like this of whom she did not expect top grades.

“Of course, Professor,” Malfoy said. “We are sorry for disturbing class.”

Twice, he didn’t need to say.

“You may go, Mr. Malfoy.”

Rose had made to leave but she halted when the professor didn’t say her name. Malfoy didn’t need to be asked twice and walked off.

“I don’t mean to keep you long, Miss Weasley.” Tearing her eyes from her fellow head student who was so readily abandoning her, Rose turned back to the professor. “I was quite confounded by your performance today. Luckily, it is unprecedented.”

“I’m truly sorry, professor. I surprised myself as well.”

“Good. I would not want this to become habit. I’d advise you to have a good think on why this happened, Miss Weasley, and whether it’s worth it.” That weighing look again. It was beginning to irritate Rose. “Too many a bright witch has forsaken her talents in favour of pursuing a wizard, even ones less handsome than Mr. Malfoy. Stay cautious of your priorities.”

Rose was so dumbfounded that she found nothing to say. Where could she even begin to right this shockingly wrong impression? More than wrong, it was offensive. To imply that she couldn’t keep her head straight because she was hoping for the attention of a boy? It didn’t even matter if it was Malfoy or some other idiot. The implication was making her blood boil.

By the time Rose found any words, Professor Halifax had already bade her goodbye and retreated to her office. It was a good thing, too, because she wasn’t sure she would be able to respond politely. Rose stormed out of the classroom ready to hex someone.

The dungeons were empty, Malfoy long gone.

Chapter 6: Fuck, Marry, Curse

Chapter Text

Scorpius was good at many things. Quidditch, Charms both in and out of the classroom, Transfiguration, DADA - anything which required wand work, really. He had been better at Herbology than Rose, too, though he’d still had the good sense to give it up. Obviously, she knew he had strengths, just as well as she knew that none of them were helpful.

Part of him wondered if she’d meant to say he must be good for something rather than at something. In that case, he couldn’t very well say.

Luckily, the purple spray across his body had been no match for a long and scalding shower. Upon inspection, Scorpius detected no discolouration, save for the pink jagged line still cleaving the side of his face. The ointment Rose had given him sat next to the sink, and he applied it almost as an afterthought. As soon as his face recovered, he‘d return it along with the pit of guilt the little tub evoked in him.

His free period had seemed lucky considering how the last lesson went, but now the remainder of time was daunting. So much quiet and opportunity to be left with his stubborn thoughts. They relentlessly kept returning to Weasley, and the task she’d burdened them with.

Being assigned head boy was supposed to be an easy feather in his hat. It wasn’t something he’d vied or even hoped for. It had simply been, and he had accepted it like so many good things which came his way. A bonus. Free. And now he had to work for it.

It was all thanks to Weasley and her tented brows, always so concerned about things. She’d infected him with her head full of considerations, a restless brain left in her wake. Scorpius even went so far to distract himself that he started on that damned paper for Halifax. Or at least he tried. His eyes kept slipping between the lines in his potions book, and he soon realised he wasn’t taking in any of the reading.

Shit.

There was an hour still left and then another for lunch. Despite his skipping breakfast, he was not looking forward to it, even with the prospect of company waiting for him. Albus’ face, twisted with regret, flickered in front of his eyes like a haunting.

Scorpius exhaled heavily and left the green light of the common room behind. He needed to clear his head, and there was only one thing which never failed to do exactly that.

Too impatient to waste time walking, Scorpius summoned his broom the moment he stepped onto the grounds. Flying in his school uniform was not ideal, but a wind repelling charm would protect him from the worst of it.

His kick-off hard, Scorpius soared into the sky, upsetting the path of a tawny owl. He didn’t look back to see if it recovered. Instead, he steered fast for the lake, eyes on its distant shore.

Scorpius often wondered if the squid might claim him when he flew like this. The tips of his shoes were so close to the water they sent ripples across it. It was almost perfect, but he missed the savageness of the wind ripping at his face and tangling his hair.

In a moment of recklessness, Scorpius removed his protective charm. The shock of the wind threw him off balance, and he narrowly avoided an icy foot bath. Scorpius bowed low over his broom handle anyway and picked up the pace, his reflection blurred beneath him.

Autumn had drained the days of their warmth and without his training clothes, Scorpius felt the cold seep into him. He welcomed its clarity and gripped the broom handle even tighter. This was the kind of release he had needed. The rushing past his ears drowned out all thought and the assault on his senses became a singular sensation. For a few moments, he surrendered to the air and the wind and their wildness.

The shore approached. A line of grey rock and green shrubbery, creeping nearer until it was rapidly upon him. Scorpius pulled up at the last second, his right foot scuffing on branches, and he ascended in a dizzying spiral. When he drew level, his breath came in huffs, expelling the last of the worries which had been nagging him.

He paced himself on the way back to soak in the views of yellowing leaves.

-

Rose almost missed lunch. By the time Arithmancy had finished, the embarrassing goo had dried into her clothes, and her skin, and her hair. Seventh year Arithmancy’s popularity had been her only luck in that it wasn’t very popular. Only her and two others had opted to keep the elective until the bitter end. That kind of tenacity formed a bond that allowed them to forgive a lot. Barnard and Helmuth probably wouldn’t care if she showed up in pyjamas.

“Did the tonic help?” Dominique asked the instant Rose sat down at her house table which was, of course, not Dominique’s house table.

“Yeah,” Rose said in a haste to shovel food onto her plate and then into her mouth. Even while eating she knew she was going to feel sick from this pace, but damn if she wasn’t hungry. In truth, her hair was still off-colour in places, seeing as she hadn’t properly detangled it before nor after the rushed shower. It was a mess which Dominique was kind enough not to point it out.

“I heard what happened,” Allie offered with a miserable expression as if she was the one who had messed up a sixth year potion. “Such bad luck.”

“It’s not being graded,” Roxanne reminded her.

“If she hadn’t been with Malfoy, she wouldn’t have exploded it,” Dominique pointed out.

“HA!” A bit of mash sprayed from Rose’s mouth, which she quickly wiped. “You sound just like Halifax. Can you believe it?”

Realising how loud she was, Rose looked across the tables to assure herself the professor was well out of earshot at the back of the room.

“She thinks I didn’t concentrate,” she whispered now, though poorly, “because of a crush.”

“On Malfoy?” Dominique blurted, looking somewhere between disgusted and disbelieving.

“It doesn’t matter on who.”

“It does, too. If you had a crush on Malfoy I’d express ship you to St. Mungo’s mental ward.”

“I second that,” said Allie.

“That’s not the point!” Rose was back to shouting into the clamour of the Great Hall. “I don’t care if she thinks it’s a crush on Malfoy or Flitwick or a troll - it’s the principle of the matter. How can she just assume I would be so easily corrupted by some guy?”

“Those are your go-to ‘crush’ options?” Roxanne leaned over to steal a Brussels sprout from Rose’s plate, a smile playing on her lips. “Fuck, marry, curse: Malfoy, Flitwick, a troll.”

“You’re awful,” Dominique laughed. “I’d kill the troll though. Sorry, it’s the boogers.”

“I guess it’s off to the mental ward for you,” Roxanne said, grinning at the notion that Dominique chose to either fuck or marry Malfoy.

“His family does have money…”

“And he’s handsome,” Roxanne offered.

Allie looked at them both with disgust. “You two are so easily corrupted. Wait! You’d sleep-,” she hastily lowered her voice, “you’d sleep with Flitwick?”

“What, would you marry him?”

For a moment, Allie seemed to contemplate this, then she shrugged. “I’m sure he doesn’t have much longer.”

“Allie!” Dom squealed and Roxanne feigned shock, before she returned her attention to Rose who was now stabbing at her Brussels sprouts. It took three stabs before she noticed.

“Don’t even look at me like that. I get it, you guys don’t care that Halifax is making assumptions about my ability to keep a level head based on the presumed allure of an empty-headed teenager. Does she think I’ve never had a crush before? Like I just came back from summer and realised boys exist?!”

“Aww, don’t be like that, sweet.” With a gentle hand, Dominique took the fork from Rose.

“Of course, we care,” said Roxanne and flicked a pea at Rose. “Not your fault things went sideways.”

“I know it isn’t. It’s him who cannot concentrate to save his life. It’s infuriating.”

“What was it McGonagall wanted to talk to you about that made you late?” The innocence in Allie’s eyes would have been convincing if Rose hadn’t known her for close to seventeen years.

“You are so nosey it’s not even funny.”

“I’m just asking!”

The response was more defensive than it needed to be, giving Allie away. She knew well what the meeting had been about, it was hardly guesswork. Not that she seemed guilty it had happened. No, at least in front of Rose she had shown no remorse at hexing Malfoy. In fact, they hadn’t discussed the matter at all. It hung awkwardly in the air, wedged into the silence between their jokes.

After Malfoy had left their office that night, just for a moment, Rose had been determined to address it. She had gained such insight in that uncomfortably raw conversation with him that she felt she had to share it. The solid image she had crafted in her mind of the vapid, useless, swaggering, malevolent Slytherin - really an amalgamation of the house as a whole - had subtly shifted. Malfoy certainly had been those things at certain points in time, fitting himself snugly into the mould in Rose’s mind. A confirmation bias, which he had readily met.

Now, however, he was also vulnerable, and that made things complicated. Because it meant she had to accept he was more than a two-dimensional caricature. More of a person.

All of these were thoughts Rose had been intent to share with her friends. Until she had spent that moment thinking them and realised how they sounded. Silly and ultimately, irrelevant. He still had done what he had done, and Allie would not forgive it. Her and Carl’s hurt by far outweighed Rose’s realisation that Malfoy might be a person. So, she settled for the unspoken words.

“Fine,” Rose said into the silence, “I’ll kill the troll, and fuck Flitwick with my eyes closed and under the influence of any drug I can get my hands on. Then, I’ll marry Malfoy.”

Before Allie could protest, Rose continued, “It’ll be a trophy wife sort of situation. You appear together publicly but live in separate houses and never talk to each other at home.”

“I can get behind that!” Dominique seemed relieved that the momentary silence between them had dissipated.

“You know,” Roxanne said, just as lunch concluded, with a sigh so heavy it was theatrical, “Just to be different, I’ll marry the troll.”

With everyone rising to depart the hall, Albus popped up next to Rose without warning. Finally, that was something to ease the frustration still bubbling inside her. They hadn’t spoken during or after class, thanks to her multiple unwanted chats with professors that day. It was rare anyway to catch him without another Slytherin by his side, throwing daggers her way.

“You and the girls want to walk together?”

It was a surprising offer, considering they did not have another shared class with Slytherin until later that week, but it was a welcome one.

“Of course, Al! That you’d even have to ask…”

And yet, as Rose was fixated on his face, he was looking past her. That signature Albus smile faded, as if he had forgotten to upkeep it. For the blink of an eye, he looked nothing like himself. Then it was back, a halfhearted tug at the lips, indicating he was ready to go. When Rose turned around to where he’d been looking, she realised that their friends had gone ahead without them.

-

“Tell me what I’m good at, Weasley.”

Oh, great, the ego-trips are back.

“Blowing up cauldrons seems to be at the top of that list currently.”

“I’m pretty sure we were both - never mind, let’s not get into it.” That got Rose’s attention. “I’ll tell you what I’m good at.”

“Why?”

“Because you asked me to be useful,” he said with an air of irritation.

“Right now you are more disruptive than anything else.” Rose motioned at herself drawing tables and then at him, lounging.

“It’s you who’s interrupted me five times!”

“Twice.”

“That was the third.”

“And I’ll keep doing it if you don’t get to the point.”

“I bloody would if you stopped interrupting me.”

Rose kept her head low, hiding her amusement. “As soon as you have something worthwhile to say, I’ll -“

Her quill slipped as Malfoy’s hand suddenly gripped hers and he said, “Bloody listen, Weasley.”

How had he moved from the couch to the desk so quickly? The very one he was now bent over, bent over her, towering above. His other hand was splayed on top of her parchment, as if grabbing her wasn’t enough to make her stop working and get her to look at him. He would have smudged the ink, it was so fresh and her work was going to be a smeared mess, but Rose didn’t check because she was looking at him. Frozen in surprise and by his eyes which were alight with… not annoyance, she realised.

Rose remembered to close her mouth and swallowed.

“I’m listening.”

His eyes darted between hers.

“Good.”

And he retreated.

Rose’s space was her own again, finally, she was free to breathe. Malfoy didn’t go far. He drew up a chair as he spoke and sat opposite her.

“I didn’t mean for Potions to turn explosive. You’re right, we need to better our teamwork.” Rose drew up her brows. Maybe not so much of an ego trip then. “I’m not a creative, but I have some qualities that could be useful.”

If we are hoping to run a Hogwarts version of the Bachelor, maybe, she thought as he fixated her with his rich brown eyes not dissimilar from her own. Yet, no one in their classes blushed when she looked at them. Perhaps it was not the eyes alone which elicited that effect, but rather the rest of him which had made even Roxanne call him handsome. Or have Halifax assume that the Malfoy mass-infatuation extended to Rose.

“I know how to get a crowd going.”

“What?”

“Like at a match or at a party.”

Whatever energy had been buzzing in the room deflated at once. She’d expected something a bit more groundbreaking. Even just tile cracking would have done the job, but this…

“Seriously, don’t start on me,” Malfoy said before she could. “I see that crease in your brows, and it’s never a good sign for me.”

“Malfoy, all of this and you tell me you throw a good party?”

The annoyance was back, for both of them.

“You told me to make a suggestion. What’s yours?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Following a roll of her eyes, Rose looked down where her work of the last hour had been tainted by a smudgy handprint. This guy.

“I am. And if I’m honest, I think a party leaves much more of an impression than a perfectly organised timetable for the Gobstone club.”

“It’s not just Gobstones,” she argued, unable to keep the offence from her voice. His gratitude clearly didn’t last long. She’d hoped he would stay agreeable for at least a few more days. “It’s choir, and Quidditch, and tutoring and the Duelling Club -“

Malfoy snorted, and Rose couldn’t argue - the Duelling Club was a joke - but he still didn’t have to be such a prat about the work she was doing.

“It’s still only a timetable, Weasley.” A timetable he hadn’t helped with, had smudged, and was now teasing her for. “Not exactly the high impact undertaking we need.”

“And what’s that?”

“Teamwork, remember?” He threw her own words back at her, and she wanted to curse him for it. “Clearly, you’re highly capable of drawing these,“ he indicated her parchment, “yourself.”

“Fine,” Rose snipped and crossed her arms. “Tell me, then, do you have a concrete idea or is your stroke of genius a one-word kind of deal?”

His nostrils flared dangerously, but it was not anger glinting in his eyes. Rose thought he might lean across the desk again, likely to intimidate her, but he did not.

“I’ve a plan, you infuriating witch.”

The words lit a spark in Rose, and she thought her eyes might look similar to his now. Infuriated, yes, and liking it.

“And you want to know what the best part is?”

This time, he did lean across. Not quite as far as earlier, but it was a challenge nonetheless. Rose held her breath in expectation.

“It involves a timetable.”

-

“Tell me you’ve heard the news?”

Lily slid into the bench next to Hugo, tardy as ever, and began unloading her materials onto the table

“You’re forgetting to whisper again,” Hugo responded in hushed tones, though his expression was anything but reproachful. A secretive smile graced his lips, one reserved for only her.

“Oh, please, I believe it’s been centuries since Binns has heard anyone speak but himself.” Bad at whispering on a good day, Lily didn’t even make an attempt to lower her voice. One of the Hufflepuffs sitting in front of them turned around in dismay, as if he was actually paying attention to Binns getting lost in the threads of history. Lily grimaced at him.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” Hugo teased, after apologetically shrugging at his class mate.

Without so much as a glance, Lily opened her history book to a random page and turned to face Hugo. She was thrumming with excitement.

“Hugh, I’ll ask you again. Have you heard?”

He regarded her for a moment, considering.

“The midnight party,” he concluded, and she squealed. The Hufflepuff goody-two-shoes turned around again to shush her, but Lily didn’t even deign to look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on Hugo and his on hers, and they grinned.

“It’s a one-of-a-kind opportunity.”

“Because the Owl Post will be there.”

“And with Allie Longbottom in charge of it -”

“Ambitious as a Slytherin.”

“She’ll be pushing its distribution outside of Hogwarts.”

“Exposure,” Hugo concluded.

Lily’s eyes positively sparkled at the idea.

“So, how are you going to do it?” He asked conspiratorially.

“See, I was hoping to enlist your help. I have heard you are an expert rule breaker.”

“I prefer to see myself as an expert schemer,” he corrected, twiddling his quill in a most laid back fashion.

“Well, then it’s time to scheme me onto the radar of some very important people.”

“He’s not gonna like it,” Hugo mused, not sounding worried in the slightest at the thought of her father. Ideas were clearly already beginning to form in that clever head of his.

Lily leaned forward and finally, she whispered, “That’s the point.”

Chapter 7: Candid Civility

Chapter Text

“Rox, wait up!”

Bundled up to shield against the crisp autumn air, Allie came hurtling down the castle’s front steps.

“I need to take notes for my article. Leslie will join to take some pictures if you don’t mind?”

“Uh, sure. Just don’t expect me to have anything smart to say.”

Allie elbowed her playfully and they continued down the sloped grounds. “Oh, come on, I bet you do! You’ve been helping out every week. It’s pretty cool of you to get involved like that.”

Not that it had been her intention when initially agreeing. It was supposed to be a low commitment, just helping out sort of affair. Roxanne could only blame Paris’ persuasiveness for successfully tethering her to the project. With her broom clutched tight, Roxanne lead them past the Quidditch pitch, where Slytherin were already training, then further along the lake’s shore and to the forest’s edge.

As per usual, Paris was already in full swing. Initially, Roxanne felt that she was arriving late each time, but she’d soon learned it wasn’t the case. Apparently, Paris was simply so committed that she spent large chunks of her spare time braving the weather to drive the project further.

Making quick work of introductions, Allie spelled her quill to take notes as she held a conversation with Paris. To her credit, she tried to interrupt the work as little as possible, aware of the time crunch they were in.

Talking about this was so easy for Paris. She was in it, always working closely with Professor Wolcott and never having to question the next steps to be taken or guess at what was needed. All Roxanne had to do was follow her lead.

As the interview progressed, Roxanne charmed plank after plank. The work was monotonous enough that she might have begrudged it if she didn’t know how vital the spellwork was to the finished product. If the silencing charm wasn’t secure and long-lasting all their work was going to be for nothing.

“I’ve already spoken with Wolcott,” Allie said in the even tone which the girls called her ‘reporter voice’, “but she said to turn to you for details on the habitat itself. Is it right that you conceptualised it?”

Roxanne nearly messed up her spell.

“That’s right,” Paris said cheerfully and launched into her explanation of wood choice and approach. Roxanne had heard it all before, but now the words fell like puzzle pieces into her mind. Knowing Paris was the mastermind behind this structure shed a whole new light on her involvement. “The spells are far more durable and powerful when they are worked into the building.”

“Have you ever built anything of this magnitude before?” Allie asked, looking up into the rectangle of grey visible in the still open ceiling.

“No, I usually do art, but I crosschecked everything with Professor Wolcott and my father, and we are confident that it will work.”

“It certainly seems you have the Ollivander talent when it comes to wood.”

They laughed, but Roxanne stilled, astonished. How had she been working alongside Paris for weeks and not figured this out yet? It made her feel like an idiot.

The interview finished up quickly after, though Allie asked if Leslie could take some more pictures while she had a follow up chat with the professor.

Within a moment of Paris rejoining the efforts with her attention undivided, their working speed tripled.

“You really came up with the idea?” Roxanne asked, gesturing at the wall which towered a head above her. Soon, they’d need brooms to nail up the boards with sufficient accuracy.

“Yeah, I told you, it’s what I do.”

“Not in so many words you didn’t,” Roxanne laughed. “And how did I not know Garran Ollivander is your dad?”

“You never asked,” Paris grinned up at her, no resentment lining her cold-flushed face. “I don’t really advertise it.”

“I get it, being the daughter of a shopkeep and all. Every kid in the school carries an Ollivander’s wand. It’s the very first place I went when I turned 11.”

Half the school bought her father’s prank products, but it was a far cry from selling wands. Roxanne could not imagine living without hers, and Paris’ dad was the one who had found it for her.

The last board secured in place, Paris looked at her ruefully. “Does it sound terribly self-important if I asked you about your wand?”

“Not at all! Unless… you want to guess?”

As if presented an unexpected gift, Paris’ mouth dropped open. “How did you know that’s my insufferable guilty pleasure?”

“There’s nothing better than a guessing game.” Roxanne leaned against one of the newly built walls, choosing to trust their stability.

“Let’s start easy, definitely unicorn hair,” Paris said without missing a beat.

It was the standard, so Roxanne wasn’t too surprised at the correct guess.

“11.5 inches, slightly more flexible than average.”

Now, that was more impressive. Roxanne’s brows shot toward her hairline.

“11.75,” she corrected. “Nicely done!”

Grinning, Paris swiped her windblown hair from her face.

“Now for my favourite part, the wand wood.” She scanned Roxanne from head to toe, lingering on her face. “I haven’t known you long, but…”

Paris weighed her head side to side and chewed the inside of her cheek. “My surface level assessment says English Oak, but I think there’s more to you than that.”

Not that Roxanne had an inkling what it meant. More to her than what? Suddenly, she wished she knew more about wood properties.

“Spruce?”

Roxanne broke into a face splitting grin. “Seven hells, you are good at this.”

“Did you doubt me?”

“Not really,” she admitted, “but I’m still impressed.”

She held her fist out for a bump, though her eyes flicked to the darkening sky.

“We have to hurry if we want to get started on the upper wall, I’ll grab my broom.”

Paris blanched at that. “I’ve been dreading this part. I’m a lousy flyer.”

“Then it’s just as well that I’m a great one. I’ll fly us up, you do the spellwork.”

Their idea was for Paris to malleocudo the planks which Roxanne levitated from the ground while also keeping the broom at a steady hover. With the wind tugging at them, that last part posed quite a challenge, complicated further by Paris clutching her tight enough to hurt. The only people Roxanne usually shared her broom with were her twin nephews, who were small and light and easy to secure. With Paris being a full grown human and a nervous flyer on top of it, she needed to sit in the back they had soon learned - Roxanne was much more substantial to hold on to than a broom handle.

All in all, this manner of flying contrasted her usual, quick Quidditch manoeuvres greatly, but it was a welcome change from the monotonous spellwork. With a bit of tweaking, they worked out a routine punctuated by the sound of Paris’ charms driving nails into the boards.

The fading light and their hungry stomachs only allowed so much time, however, and when they landed, Allie and Leslie were just heading back to the castle as well. Pink cheeked and tired, the four of them grouped up and rushed to dinner.

-

Never in a million years would Rose have expected McGonagall to agree to the party. Never would she have expected herself to agree to the party. It was not her style, not her brand, but it was a compromise. In the spirit of teamwork, she had agreed.

To Malfoy’s credit, he had finally started pulling his weight. Rose had nearly choked on her own breath when he’d taken the lead at the recent prefect meeting. He’d delegated tasks for crying out loud, and he had assigned them according to her timetable. Rose had made lists and charts for it all, and Scorpius had teased her about it twice at most.

Halloween was fast approaching. With it, so was the first match of the Quidditch season, and the first beat to Malfoy’s plan. Really, plan made it sound much too mysterious, but for lack of a better word it was what Rose called it in her head.

His plan, their plan.

And it all started with the Midnight Party, on Halloween Saturday.

“So, are you beating Ravenclaw?”

Red-nosed and mud-sprayed, Malfoy slumped into the couch cushions and accepted the freshly brewed tea.

“No,” he groaned, after a gulp so eager it must have burnt his tongue. He made a face to confirm that it had.

“On Thursday, you were singing a different tune,” Rose reminded him, leaving out that on Thursday he had also found the time to shower before meeting her. Malfoy’s signature blond hair was muddy brown enough that she wondered if he’d face planted into the ground. The lack of broken bones or bruising said otherwise. There was only that pink, healing wound cleaving the smears of dirt on his face. Rose averted her eyes from it, rather returning to the knitting that she’d been working on.

“On Thursday, Samson was sick. What kind is this?” Malfoy asked, sniffing his cup since his tongue was struggling to taste around the burn.

“Vanilla earl grey,” she supplied and raised her brows, waiting for him to continue.

“Aaron and I are one organism, but Samson just doesn’t click with us. He constantly misses our throws and his passes are either short or completely off.”

“Isn’t he new?”

“Sure, he is, but it’s not the first day of training, is it?” Frustrated, Malfoy ran a hand through his hair, got caught in the tangles, and sighed.

“You said it yourself,” Rose said, knowing full well he wouldn’t like what she was about to tell him. “You and Aaron have played together for years. You’ve learned each other’s plays over the course of multiple seasons. How is an outsider supposed to fit himself into such a tight knit formation?”

“Tess fit in.”

“Tess was captain, of course, she fit in. She built that dynamic. Samson is not Tess, and you can’t expect him to be. It’s easy for new seekers or keepers coming in. Everyone has to be a team player of course, but they focus on their own problems.”

Malfoy waited as she picked up and blew into her tea and tried a sip, careful not to repeat his mistake. Though it was a good thing he couldn’t taste it, she’d over-steeped it.

“When beaters are replaced, they have no choice but to find a new dynamic. But a single person joining a trio? I wouldn’t want to trade with Samson. So, yeah, he has to find his way into the existing strategy, but you need to be flexible enough to adapt to his strengths, as well.”

“You really should be getting back into Quidditch,” Malfoy said after a beat.

“You really should be minding your own business.”

“Like you’ve been minding yours just now?” He grinned crookedly, and Rose shrugged.

“I’ve always been better at the theoretical aspects than the practical when it comes to Quidditch.”

“I’d have to disagree there. Never a dull moment with you and Weasley as chasers.”

Rose pointed a knitting needle at him. “Gets a bit tricky when you reduce us all to our last name, doesn’t it?”

“Seth’s sister,” he relented, draining his cup to the dregs.

“Roxanne.”

“Exactly. Although, she and Al’s sister -“

“How is Al?”

Their eyes met, a moment of discomfort passing between them. Rose had blurted it out before thinking. Recalling that night, even though it was arguably the catalyst for their mutual tolerance, was something Rose tried to avoid doing. It felt like rubbing salt into the raw thing they were building.

Tolerance, she reminded herself.

For Albus, however, she’d make an exception. No matter the situation, no matter the rule, despite the fact she had barely been seeing him of late. It was the cost her friends were willing to pay when they chose to avoid the Slytherins, and the cost Rose paid by being loyal to them.

“Al’s alright.”

It was an incomplete answer, though Rose couldn’t tell which part was missing. She allowed her eyes to wander as she considered whether Malfoy was keeping the truth from her or whether he didn’t know it.

“We need a rocking chair in here.”

Malfoy snorted and set his empty cup down.

“Smooth transition as always. Let’s hear it then.”

He leaned back expectantly, waiting for Rose to fetch papers from the desk. She handed him the to-do list unceremoniously, and he huffed.

“This is a fraction of what New Year’s is going to be,” she warned, already dreading it. But all of this had been his idea. He didn’t get to stick his head in the sand now.

“It’s not that.” He studied the list a little longer, then let it flutter onto the coffee table. “There’s no reason we’d have to do half of these things. More than half. I mean, why do we have prefects?”

“That’s not the point of being head student.” Rose snatched the paper right back.

“You really want to personally pop in with the house elves and double check the snacks and drinks?”

“The prefects have to do their rotations, too. We can’t ask too much of them.”

He shrugged. “Make it part of the rotations then.”

Rose could only frown at that. He made a good point, and it frustrated her.

“It might work now, but we need more than that for New Year’s. A committee of volunteers, or something.” Surely, there would be students enough to want in on Malfoy’s grandiose plan. “But speaking of rotations, we have to revise the schedule for that.”

Before she finished the sentence, Malfoy was already groaning. It wasn’t something she could fault him for. They had already completed an initial revision when two of the Ravenclaw prefects had split up, three weeks into the school year.

“Can’t they keep it in their pants?”

Rich coming from him, she thought wryly.

There were enough prefects all but begging to monitor the halls with him.

“It’s to do with extra curricular conflicts, and uh…” The to-do list had crumpled in her hand when she’d grabbed it before. Rose smoothed out the wrinkles carefully. “We should make a point to patrol together, as well.”

Busying herself longer than needed with the paper, Rose waited for Malfoy to speak.

“Appear as a team,” he concluded. No teasing her at the implication? No referencing the amount of girls who’d love to swap with her? Someone must have gotten him with a bludger.

Or two, she corrected, when she registered what he was doing. Malfoy had summoned an empty sheet of parchment to make a copy of the patrol schedule and began altering it.

A small smile on her lips, Rose began assigning tasks from her to-do list.

-

By the time Scorpius descended into the gloomy dungeons, it was late. Ridiculously late. The telltale autumn chill had begun creeping into the underground corridors already. Soon the walk to and from his common room, albeit dryer, was going to be almost as miserable as walking the Hogwarts grounds.

Maybe that should have been their head-student-hill to die on. Updating the dungeons with better insulation. Scorpius was certain the mysterious appeal of the lake’s proximity had largely decreased in the centuries since the castle’s founding.

It was a sentiment he quickly forgot as the stones shifted to reveal his common room. Its familiar teal hues instantly enveloped him. He still remembered how it had felt entering it for the first time all those years ago. How he’d squinted and felt disoriented, as if he was viewing the entire room through tinted glasses. He’d stepped onto a different planet, or so it had seemed.

The massive arched windows invited the lake’s depths into their common room. Both centrepiece and backdrop, they allowed insight to the quiet, swaying world of the lake. Once overwhelmed by it, Scorpius now found it infinitely soothing.

As always, his eyes drew lake-ward, scanning the glass for anything of interest but finding only tangles of lake grass. Only then did he spot the students gathered at the bottom of the panorama, up late like him.

A sigh escaped him. He should have known.

“About time you showed up,” Lysander greeted him with the air of a parent scolding their child. Scorpius allowed it, if only because Lysander instantly ushered him into one of the armchairs and began inspecting his face.

“What in all bloody hells did she keep you for?”

“You’re still in your practice clothes?”

“Scorp, you seriously need a shower.”

Earl, Effie and Albus spoke all at once. The three of them were showered and dressed in their night clothes, which was not appropriate public attire in one of their cases. Effie did not care in the slightest who saw her buttocks peaking out beneath the bottom of her shorts.

“This isn’t necessary anymore,” Scorpius told Lysander and ignored the others. In turn, Lysander ignored him. He pressed the tip of his wand into Scorpius shoulder just hard enough to make him sit back down again.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” With utmost scrutiny, Lysander inspected Scorpius's face. “Not only have you not seen an actual healer, you are also doing nothing to keep this clean.”

A flick of his wand and Scorpius could smile and talk without the irritation of dried dirt on his face.

“It was still weeping during practice earlier,” Effie betrayed him, earning a glare from Scorpius and a wince from Albus.

“Not like he can rest with the match so close.” It was Earl butting in and sharing Scorpiu’s priorities. Much unlike Lysander who turned an angry expression on them both.

“I swear to Morgana, if you are wasting your healing and my efforts for a bloody Quidditch match I will curse you much worse than any Longbottom could hope to achieve.”

Earl grinned encouragingly as soon as Lysander turned his back to him for a moment. He had been doing this every night since the fight. Every single one of them he would clean the cut and murmur chants over it, significantly aiding the healing process. All the while chiding Scorpius for being reckless and proud and stupid.

“You really kept us waiting,” bemoaned Effie, whose eyes were heavy lidded. She might have been able to pass them as a different kind of bedroom eyes but Scorpius knew them for what they were - exhaustion. Guilt stabbed him, knowing that she was right. They’d be long in bed if it wasn’t for him.

“Tuesdays are busy,” was all he had to offer as an excuse.

On the armchair next to him, he could hear Albus shifting. Scorpius glanced at him as best he could without moving his head and earning a reprimand from Lysander. He was not able to catch Albus’ eyes. Not even when his friend asked about Weasley.

“Everything alright with Rose, or…”

“Are you doing each other’s heads in?” Earl finished for Albus who smiled listlessly.

“Yeah,” Scorpius said lamely. It felt like a lie, even though he wasn’t specifying which of the options he was answering. He could neither bring himself to lie nor give Albus whatever desperate hope he would find in the truth.

Things with Rose were alright. Better than alright. Civil, professional, cordial…

Scorpius winced and Lysander scolded him, though he let off of him after that.

“If I can’t get it to heal properly in a week’s time, I’m sending you to Sanguine.”

“Yes, mum,” said Earl and Scorpius in chorus, earning yet another glare from Scorpius's self appointed warden.

It was not long after that they all sidled off to bed, thoroughly regretting it was a school night.

-

Wednesdays were a mare.

Somehow she had managed to schedule a peak into the middle of her week - not the good, mountainous kind - which she had to surmount week after week. One she dreaded come Monday and which made her yearn for weekends. Not only was it her fullest day, it was also packed with her most hated classes. To really torture herself, she’d managed to schedule a patrol for that very evening.

As she was dragging herself between classes - from Arithmancy all the way to the North tower no less - Rose spotted a familiar mop of black hair. She had not seen him in ages.

A smirk playing across her lips, Rose snuck up on her cousin and clasped her hands over his eyes.

“Guess who,” she exclaimed, knowing he’d guess her voice in a heartbeat.

“Rosie,” he said, with none of the joy she’d come to know from him. Rose’s stomach dropped with her hands.

“Hey, Al!” She tried another smile when he turned around. He reciprocated, dutifully.

“What do you have now?”

“Free period. You?”

“Divination.”

“Oh!”

He did not elaborate on the questions evident in his voice. Rose was grateful for being spared them. For one, because she was asked them every time anyone found out about the elective, and also because she could give no answer which satisfied her.

“Want to walk me?”

“Sure.” Albus glanced apprehensively up the stairs but fell into step with her anyway.

It was sadistic, she realised, to ask him to climb all those steps with her. She’d thought they could catch up the way they used to, sharing their walks to class whenever possible. Usually, it meant keeping a safe distance from his friends who often walked some paces ahead or behind.

Only a few weeks had passed since “the incident”, which had brought Rose and Malfoy closer yet invariably driven everyone else apart. No small amount of guilt crept over her as Rose became aware of how absent Albus had been. Somehow, she’d been blind to the decrease in his lunch time visits to her table or the general lack of Albus Potter amid the group of her friends.

Shit.

She’d been so busy worrying about being head girl and sorting things out with Malfoy, she had barely stopped to consider Albus’ position in it all. He’d always been toeing the jagged line between the two fronts and for the first time, Rose knew remotely what that felt like. Except her friends hadn’t stopped talking to her because of it.

“They’ll come around,” she offered with as much conviction as she could muster.

“Yeah.” It did not sound hopeful.

Each moment of silence dropped into Rose like a small stone. Small discomforts bit by bit taking up more space until she could no longer deny them. She did not know how to clear them. Not without saying the same thing again, since it was all she could think of.

They’ll come around.

They had to. They were family.

“He doesn’t complain about you.”

“Hm?” She asked it, even though her mind supplied the name before Albus did.

“Scorpius.”

“That’s… good.”

Merlin, what else could she say?

Albus and Malfoy were friends. In front of him there was no need to pretend, but it was habit, wasn’t it? The idea alone of admitting their amicability embarrassed her. It was inevitably linked to that evening when… but had Malfoy told him? Was that the kind of thing they shared? Did it feel like a secret only to her?

Rose had assumed a complicity where perhaps there wasn’t any.

“Do you get on then?”

Rose swallowed. “We make do.”

A nod at that. Albus’ shoulders seemed to sink further if that was possible. It felt as though Rose had snatched a last kernel of hope from him, and it made her feel wretched.

“He’s not as bad as I thought.” She wished she didn’t have to fight that long lodged resistance to get the words out. As a result they sounded insincere. “I suppose that… well, he is still highly annoying, but I can see… he isn’t awful and sometimes even bearable, so it’s not unimaginable that you would be friends with him.

“He did ruin my potion,” she added compulsively.

“Yeah, he is shit at potions.” To her surprise and relief, Albus grinned. This one was real, and he almost looked like himself now.

“But he refuses to acknowledge it. Most of the time I’m not sure how all three of us fit into the same room.”

At his raised brow, she supplied, “He, his ego and I.”

Albus laughed.

“Can you believe he literally asked me to tell him what he’s good at?”

“You better make sure not to talk about Quidditch.” As he spoke the warning, Albus’ eyes crinkled in amusement.

“Please tell me how to avoid it, because he talks about it all the time.”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out. He walks me through all of our plays like I wasn’t there when Aaron did the same. Why doesn’t he waste that energy on Earl, who could actually use it?”

“Oh, he refuses to tell me the plays. You know, in case I’m a mole, planted by McGonagall as head girl to spy on him.”

“That is actually a very good theory.” “Albus squinted at her. “I’ll be sure to keep my eyes on you.”

Out of breath from both laughter and countless steps, they reached the Divination class trap door. An ornate ladder lowered itself beckoning unfortunate seventh years into its lair of palm readings and ill fortunes.

When Rose reached for the third rung to haul herself up, Albus stopped her and said, “Thank you, Rose.”

She pulled him into a hug, just as grateful. As she held him, Rose thought her chest was not the only one from which a heavy weight had dropped.

-

“You look like hell,” Rose greeted as Malfoy joined her for their first shared patrol of the halls. They set off casually, already shooing off some stragglers.

“Do you think it’s to do with the sadist who kept me doing schoolwork until the late hours last night?”

“It wasn’t school work, it was -“

“If it’s for school it’s school work.”

It was one of the more comfortable patrol routes, involving minimal stair climbing as well as the library. Rose had chosen it with care for their first patrol together. For even though the librarian was not there to enforce them, the library rules would have made a good excuse upon which to blame any awkward silences.

Yet, even as they strolled between the third row of books, Rose still found herself speaking.

“It’s quite a relief coming across people like that,” she admitted in a whisper, referring to the student they had found bent over books even now in the dead of night. “Even I’ve never asked for a permission slip to stay out late for studying. And during first term, too. Makes me feel less like a swot.”

“His girlfriend’s just broken up with him,” Malfoy said as if it meant something.

“How do you know that?”

“He’s Slytherin.”

That much had been obvious from his poorly knotted tie and rumpled knit, but the boy was several grades below them. Rose could not have given much information about the love life of a Gryffindor fifth grader.

“I guess there’s reason for Halifax to assume matters of the heart outweigh a sensible brain,” she murmured to herself, though not to herself enough.

“What’s that?” A quizzical expression lay on Malfoy’s face as he was trying to glean sight of hers. Lowering her wand, Rose hid her blush in shadow, instead illuminating the polish of her shoes.

“Nothing.”

“No, come on. You can’t say it and then not say it.”

“It’s honestly nothing,” she insisted.

“Just tell me, Weasley,” he insisted back.

“You’ve got too high expectations. You’ll be disappointed now by how insignificant it is.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Merlin, he was infuriating. They were in a library, they shouldn’t even be talking in the first place. Rather than enforce the rule, she turned on him, blinding him with the full force of her Lumos spell.

“Bloody hell.” Malfoy, having raised his arms to shield himself, knocked a few books off the shelf with his elbow.

“Sorry,” she cried and lowered her wand, realising too late it now pointed at the crotch area of his perfectly pressed uniform trousers.

His smirk told her he’d noticed sooner.

Rose’s cheeks heated with embarrassment.

Oh, this was ridiculous.

She dove to pick up the books, to give herself something to do. Only halfway down her head collided forcibly within something hard. Judging by Malfoy’s groan it had been his own.

“Stop it!”

“Excuse me?” Rubbing his head with one hand, Malfoy got the sensible idea to have his wand do the work.

“You’re doing all this on purpose,” she accused, satisfied that she was fully in charge of their light situation now. Books floated back into their positions, which gave her a good excuse to point her wand away from her surely reddened face. A knock to the head could do that to a person.

“Yes, Weasley, I am the one orchestrating this assault on my person.”

“Assault? I was trying to clean up the mess you made.”

“Because you blinded me.”

“Because you were nagging me!”

“Excuse me, but could you two shut up?”

They both whirled to face the boy peeking around one of the shelves. It was the student from before. Even with him squinting into the light of Rose’s spell, she now saw how pale his face was. How dark the contrast underneath his eyes.

“It’s just I am trying to study as this is a library?”

“Sorry,” Rose said.

“You got it,” Malfoy said.

The boy went back to studying and left Rose to wonder how long he planned to stay here.

“Back to my nagging,” he had barely waited a moment after they took up weaving through the bookshelves once more, “what was that about Halifax and the heart?”

Hell and heavens, this idiot is relentless.

“She blamed me,” Rose whispered with no small amount of bitterness, “for mucking up the potion,” when they both knew whose fault it really was, “because she assumes,” preposterously so, “that I have a crush on you. Which is really quite ridiculous,” she added, to make that point clear.

“It is.” For his sake, that smirk in his voice had better be because he, too, found it outrageous. Part of Rose guessed he didn’t think it was ridiculous for anyone to crush on him. As if he was undisputedly crush-worthy. “It’s not fair for her to assume that.”

Oh, so he does see sense.

“It could have been me having a crush on you.”

Rose didn’t know whether to laugh or if this was a joke at her expense, so she said nothing and forced herself to keep walking. Like a wishbone, she moved her wand side by side, illuminating every nook and cranny and waking more than one sleepy spider. One of the books rustled its pages in dismay, and Rose felt the urge to apologise.

“Do you really think we’ll find a student hiding in the library after hours?” Malfoy yawned, and it nearly triggered Rose to do the same.

“Depends how many more heartbroken Slytherins there are.”

For some reason, the silence which followed was heavy as if a hidden meaning had wrapped itself in it.

“I could think of some.”

Rose wondered if they were thinking of the same person and yet, it didn’t make sense. Because that wasn’t heartbreak it was… something else, wasn’t it?

“It’s a relief honestly that none of my friends like to get tangled up in romance shenanigans,” she said. Not their own at least, whereas dissecting the drama of others was fine sport for a few choice cousins.

“Then, what do they get up to?”

“Quidditch.” It was the easy answer, though it really only applied to Roxanne at this point. And it was not a long enough answer to contemplate why he was asking in the first place. “Except Dom is terribly scared of heights. I don’t think you’d catch her on a broom, dead or alive. She’s talented in other ways though.” Dominique did not struggle to outshine anyone. Rose suspected that she rather made an effort to the opposite, to dim her light on occasion. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she got compliments for wearing a potato sack. But it’s not just because she’s beautiful, you know. She’s got… an eye for things.

“Roxanne’s the reason we never get bored, though. I don’t know how she does it, but she always knows something for us to do. She’s half the reason I got into Quidditch in the first place. If you need a pick me up, or someone to ease your nerves, she’s definitely the person for it. Unlike Allie, who’s probably the least relaxed person I know. She’s got reason for it, though. She has drive, she knows what she wants, and she doesn’t apologise for it - sorry. I, maybe I shouldn’t…”

Even as they were walking and she’d been prattling on, Rose suddenly felt like Malfoy had gone very still behind her. Was it insensitive of her to be talking about the person who had hexed him? And anyway, he hadn’t asked her to have a monologue.

“Shouldn’t?” He asked just when she felt the need to look back and see if he was still there.

“Tell you all that.”

“Why’s that?”

She swallowed her laugh. It wasn’t a kind one. “Because it doesn’t concern you.”

She’d meant to say they were things he didn’t care about. That she’d gotten carried away, and he didn’t have to pretend to listen. The truth had found her voice instead.

“Right.” What gave him the right to sound so pissy? “Because it’s your friends, and I have no business hearing about them.”

“What? No, it’s just you don’t care.”

“You get to decide that?”

“Oh, please, Malfoy, don’t pretend you’re better than that. It’s not like I’d care to hear about your clique, either.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Silence fell, apart from the tapping of their shoes on the old wooden boards. He’d agreed, it was all good. They had an understanding, didn’t they?

Then why was it that Rose dreaded the end of this line of shelves as if reaching it would set something in stone and smother something else? Even as she was proven right, she could not say what either thing might have been.

“Goodnight then,” was all Scorpius said when they reached the end of their round. He was through the library doors before Rose could even think to return the courtesy.