Till Marriage Do Us Part (PG-13)
Title: Till Marriage Do Us Part
Author: enchantedteapot
Prompt:”Marriage isn’t a word; it’s a sentence.”
Summary: It’s wedding season in the wizarding world, and for two people who loathe the idea of marriage, Rose and Scorpius certainly seem to get invited to a lot of them.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Mild bad language. References to sex.
Word Count: 7100
A/N: Huge thank you to my beta, makoshark8. All remaining errors are completely my own.
~
Mr. and Mrs. William A. Weasley
cordially request your presence at the marriage of their daughter
Victoire Gabrielle
to
Ted Remus Lupin
on Saturday, July 5th
at eight o’clock in the evening
Shell Cottage, Pembrokeshire.
~
“Who the Hell gets married on a beach, anyway?” Rose Weasley grumbled to no-one in particular, leaning against the side of the house as she emptied a mountain of sand from her brand new high heels.
Unlike the young witch’s mood, the setting was idyllic. Her cousins’ childhood home had been transformed into a nuptial paradise, the enchanted white marquee shimmering in the last of the sunlight whilst crystal waves rolled in along the golden shore-line. The reception was already in full swing and the army of guests, more than half of whom Rose had never met in her life, certainly sounded like they were having an excellent time. Raucous laughter and cheers carried across the beach whilst someone, who sounded suspiciously like Albus, had begun a hearty karaoke rendition of The Weird Sisters latest hit.
Rose had managed to slip out unnoticed, grabbing the opportunity for a moment of peace and a sly cigarette before she surrendered herself back into the usual chaos. Weasley family events were ridiculous at the best of times, but a wedding? You were lucky if you made it out with even one ear drum intact.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, all several hundred of them, it was just that Rose often felt a little overwhelmed by her relatives’...err, enthusiasm for life? The yelling, the charging about, the taking off of one’s clothes in a public place, it could all get a little too much for one woman. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, she’d grown used to having her own space, her own life and it was sometimes a little tough trying to fit back into that Weasley niche. Thank Merlin Scorpius was here or else she might have drowned herself in the decorative champagne fountain by now.
Rose was just conceding that there might actually be worse ways to go when...
“There you are, Weasley! I thought you’d quit?”
She glanced up sheepishly at the oncoming figure, relaxing at the rather obvious lack of bright red hair. “I have! I mean, I almost have. It’s a gradual process, Malfoy,” she snapped, sulkily, moving to stub out the offending cigarette amongst the sand.
“Well, I can hardly let you succumb to temptation alone,” Scorpius propped himself against the wall beside her.
“I thought you’d given up?”
“It’s a gradual process, apparently,” he mocked, accepting the out-stretched packet and dipping into the pocket of his tailor-cut trousers for his wand before looping an arm around her shoulders. “Your mother sent me to find you. Her majesty, Victoire, is having a melt-down.”
Rose snorted. “Naturally. How’s Teddy?”
“His hair’s a bit greener than usual but otherwise fine. The man’s so laid back I thought he might fall asleep at the altar. Your Uncle Harry keeps trying to give him man-to-man chats, what is it with Gryffindors and poetic speeches?” he shook his head, taking a long, deep drag of his cigarette. “More emotions than sense, most of them.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that inside,” she grinned, “House loyalty’s still a big deal in this family,”
“Tell me about it. There isn’t a room in your parents’ house that isn’t painted in some offensive shade of maroon. Here, fix my bow-tie would you?”
Rose ‘tsked’, but swatted away his fumbling thumbs. “You know, one of these days, I might not be around to do this for you,” she muttered, smiling teasingly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Wherever I go, you go, and vice versa. You are my everything, Weasley.”
She chuckled darkly, “Good to see that biting sarcasm of yours isn’t dampened by the occasion. Lift your chin.”
Scorpius obliged. “Sarcasm? These words are straight from the heart! Salazar’s balls, I’ve come over all Gryffindor.”
Rose and Scorpius had always seemed an unlikely couple, which made sense, because they weren’t. They were, however, about as close as two people could be without actually getting in to bed with one another- which was something they’d only ever tried once... Oh alright, three, maybe four times but it was always just for fun and usually after several bottles of cheap Merlot.
In essence, they were best friends, had been ever since their paths had crossed as fifth years, both protesting their lack of prefect badge; he a Slytherin and she a Ravenclaw. And whilst the following six years hadn’t always been smooth sailing- the Weasley temper and Malfoy vanity made for some vicious encounters, everyone knew there was no shaking this marriage of sharp minds and dry humour. Merlin knew both their father’s had tried hard enough at one time or another, to absolutely no avail.
“So what do we make of tonight then?” Scorpius mused, after a moment. “I’d say it’s better than Goldstein’s do, what did we give that one?”
“A four out of ten, I think,”
He frowned, “Seems low, even for our standards.”
“I believe you were disappointed at the time by the distinct lack of nudity,”
“Ah yes,” he laughed, loudly, “nothing like dinner and a show.”
Rose didn’t quite manage to deliver the poisonous scowl she was hoping for. “There,” she muttered, brushing down the front of his dress-robes and stepping back. “Dashing as ever, Malfoy.”
He offered her his best swoon-inducing smirk. “Without fail. Now come on, Weaslette.” He ditched the cigarette and laced his fingers through hers. “Someone’s made a fatal error with the portkey bookings and they think I’m going home without you. We’ll need your Ravenclaw brilliance to save the day.”
She grinned, “Has that line ever actually worked?”
“Only-,”
“And don’t say only on my mother!”
“Then no, never.”
As soon as the pair stepped back beneath the awnings, the volume seemed to rise to a fever pitch. A procession of guests, led by Rose’s Uncle George, cha-cha’ed their way passed the duo, whilst her Aunt Fleur and Teddy’s grandmother clung to each other in a fit of emotional hysterics. The Potter brothers were busy trying to out-drink one another at the open bar, their cousin Fred and Frank Longbottom cheering them on, and the bride and groom- totally oblivious to the pandemonium around them- were feeding each other wedding cake and snogging in a corner.
“Merlin, I love your family,” Scorpius grinned, throwing his arm over Rose’s shoulders again. Rose rolled her eyes.
It was remarkable, really, how quickly the whole Weasley and Potter brood had warmed to Scorpius. Even Rose’s dad, for all his initial and badly disguised suspicions of the smooth-talking blonde, had finally been won over after excessive dinner-time discussion of the Chudley Cannons’ defensive strength. The closeness of the pair had at first confused quite a few of the cousins- particularly Lily, who believed that men and women would only ever enjoy spending time together for one reason and one reason only, but after years of peddling the ‘just friends’ chat, even her questions had eventually dried up.
Finally battling their way through the never-ending conga line, Rose and Scorpius found themselves seats at the bar and, having snagged an unattended bottle of champagne, set about toasting themselves into a cheery bliss. They’d just raised their glasses in honour of the day Hugo would finally get himself a girlfriend when Lily and Louis came stumbling out of the throng.
“There you two are!” Lily beamed. “Rosie, darling, you look lovely, but did you have to wear black? You look like somebody’s died.”
“Two peoples social lives are about to,” Rose muttered. Beside her, Scorpius snorted into his champagne.
“Oh that’s right, I forgot,” she grimaced, hopping onto the next stool along. “You two are co-founders of the anti-wedding movement, aren’t you?”
“Not at all! Scorpius protested, “We love weddings, don’t we Rose?”
“Of course! Free food, booze and a drunken Uncle Percy- what’s not to love? It’s more the part that comes afterwards that we intend to fight off with every last breath.”
“You mean marriage? Oh, it’s only a word-,”
“Marriage isn’t a word, Louis,” Rose gasped, “it’s a sentence! I mean, the clue is in the vows: ‘Till death do us part’? That’s creepy stuff.” Scorpius was nodding, gravely. “All the ‘do you promise’ this and ‘honour and obey’ that. It’s practically a modern version of human sacrifice!”
“Why else do you think they call it an altar?” Scorpius interjected, smugly.
“Yes, yes, alright. Very clever,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t care what you bitter old love-scrooges say, I’ve had a wonderful time. I just wish Great-Aunt Muriel would stop forcing me to dance with her,”
Rose and Lily exchanged looks, “Aunt Muriel’s dead, Louis,”
“Is she? Since when?”
“Since we were six,”
“Oh, merde! Then who’s that old woman I keep kissing at Christmas?”
“You know, you really shouldn’t talk about Aunt Audrey that way,” Rose tutt-ed and the rest of them fell into choking fits of laughter.
The rest of the evening continued in a similar, buoyant manner. Scorpius and Rose got steadily tipsy, knocking back the champagne till even the most basic of sarcastic quips had become a challenge. Lily, meanwhile, danced with any single man she wasn’t related to and Louis sought confirmation of his great-great-aunt’s passing, until their Uncle George had insisted on a family rendition of the Macarena. Scorpius had watched on gleefully, chiding Rose for her distinct lack of enthusiasm and descending into hysterics when she tripped over Victoire’s train and fell on her arse.
Hours later, when it was just Rose’s parents left slowly swaying on the dance-floor and James and Albus had passed out in the cloakroom, Rose walked Scorpius back to the fireplace in Shell Cottage. The beach and the house were finally quiet, with the newly-weds having rushed off to spend the night in some fancy hotel before the honeymoon and Rose’s Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill already asleep- leaving just the faint crackle of green embers in the hearth for the guests who had yet to clear off.
“I’ll probably get roped into cleaning up at this rate,” Rose yawned as Scorpius pulled on his jacket, a little unsteady on his feet.
“Stay at mine if you like,” he cocked an eyebrow suggestively.
“Pfft, in your dreams,”
“Every night, Weaslette. Every night.” He grinned as he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her lightly on the top of her curls.
“Floo me tomorrow?” she asked and he nodded, giving her a last squeeze before vanishing into the emerald flames.
Rose stood for a moment in the empty living room; the distant hiss of the tide on the shore just about audible over Uncle Bill’s snoring. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been so tired, she would have wondered at that strange little twinge of disappointment she’d felt, watching Scorpius leave and go his separate way home. And maybe, if she hadn’t had that last glass of champagne, she’d have had the clarity to be concerned by the unusual thump in her chest as they’d said their goodbyes. But as it was, Rose was sleepy and Rose was drunk and so, with a heavy sigh, she slumped into the nearest arm-chair and forgot all about it.
~
Seamus & Lavender Finnigan
invite their nearest and dearest to join them
as they re-new their wedding vows
in celebration of their love and commitment to one another.
12’ noon
Dromore Castle, Kenmare, Ireland
~
“Well, this is absurd,” Rose shook her head in disbelief as she and Scorpius shuffled along a pew in search of seats. “Why anyone would want to do this once is beyond me, but twice? Now that’s just bloody stupid.”
Three weeks after Teddy and Victoire had officially become Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, the cynical pair once again found themselves donning their Sunday best, this time complete with shamrock green headband and cufflinks. They’d been half an hour late for their portkey that morning, owing to an argument over whether it was appropriate for Scorpius to wear a kilt to the day’s festivities and so by the time they’d actually made it to the lavish location, tucked away in the Irish hills, the rest of Rose’s family were nowhere to be seen and seats were sparse.
“My father reckons it must be a last ditch attempt to save the marriage,” he whispered, as they squeezed into the midst of a noisy herd of elderly Irish women. “Something about Mr. Finnigan getting caught in his office with that Chaser from the Kestrels with the nice arse.”
Rose snorted loudly, “Nothing like re-arranging the deck chairs as the ship goes down.”
The women in front turned round to glare.
As it turned out, wedding ceremonies were even duller the second time around. It seemed as if every man, woman and child in Ireland had turned up to read a poem or recall a time they’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan very much in love. Rose noticed idly that no-one volunteered any happy memories from at least the last ten years.
By the time they’d reached the vows, she and Scorpius had played about six rounds of ‘I Spy’, during four of which Scorpius had been caught cheating, using his Legilimency training and making Rose very cross each time she realised what was going on.
“...And do you promise to continue to love and to cherish one another...to respect each other in years still to come...”
“To stop dropping your trousers around other women?” Scorpius muttered in Rose’s ear causing her to burst into a fit of badly-disguised sniggering.
The women on their right hissed their disapproval.
Whilst the ceremony itself might have dragged, there was no doubting the Irish knew how to throw a party. Having managed to reunite with the rest of her family for dinner, the pair were more than happy to get into the spirit of things, sampling the finest of Irish traditions. Certainly, after four rounds of firewhiskey and three pints of Guiness, even Rose and Scorpius were almost convinced that a second shot at married bliss was just what the Finnigans needed.
Now she and Lily sat, nursing some more Irish delight and watching on as the rest of their family and friends danced to a rather enthusiastic ceilidh band. Scorpius, who was dancing with Rose’s mum, caught her eye across the crowds and winked. She grinned back, mouthed ‘Flirt’ and laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows and twirled Hermione back into the throng.
“And you’re quite sure the two of you aren’t madly in love?”
Rose quickly sent Lily a poisonous scowl.
She held up her hands in defence, “Call me old fashioned but I just assumed that when best friends started sleeping together, it might be time to reassess the situation...”
“‘Started sleeping-!’ I can count the number of times that’s happened on one hand, Lily! And just how do you know about that, anyway?”
Lily shrugged noncommittally, “Louis.”
Rose mentally cursed her high cheek-boned, loose-tongued cousin. “You know I’m amazed that git is so bad at Quidditch. He could easily catch a Quaffle in a mouth that size. ”
Lily grinned. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“For your sake, I was treating it as rhetorical. Anyway, it’s not like...that,” she wrinkled her nose. “We just- I mean, at the time it was... well, there was a lot of wine involved.”
“There always is with you two.”
Rose glowered, “Scorpius and I are just friends. You all know that.”
Lily rolled her eyes, “Well then, single girl, what on Earth are you doing sitting here talking to me? Look,” she nodded towards the bar, “there’s Archie Macmillan. You two were friends at school, weren’t you?”
“‘Friends’ is a strong word. We both took Advanced Astronomy, that’s all,” Rose shrugged.
“Well, why don’t you go over there and see if your star signs are compatible?”
“That’s astrology. Merlin Lily, I’m still astonished you can even spell your own name sometimes.” She dodged the well manicured hand that flew her way. “And I’m not going to chat up some bloke just to prove to you that I’m not in love with Scorpius.”
“What about for the free drinks?”
“Slightly more tempting,” she conceded, reluctantly plastering on a smile as Lily waved the kilt-clad young man over.
Much to her surprise, Archie Macmillan wasn’t actually half bad company. He was funny, with an easy charm and a rather rugged highland accent to boot. He could also remember, with startling clarity, a number of nostalgic Hogwarts anecdotes that had Rose laughing hysterically over the several cocktails he seemed more than willing to buy her. Nor was he a half bad dancer which she discovered after he’d insisted on dragging her out onto the floor for a bit of a waltz, which then turned into a salsa, three tango’s and a rather well-executed foxtrot. In fact, she was having so much fun, she didn’t even notice Scorpius, now sat back at the table with Albus and Fred and watching her intently over the rim of his many glasses of whiskey, frowning each time Archie leant in closer to whisper in Rose’s ear and she would tip her head back, laughing prettily.
It wasn’t until several hours later, when Rose’s feet couldn’t take one quickstep more, that she finally made her excuses, leaving Archie with her Floo number and an invitation to take her out to dinner later that week. Feeling quite pleased with herself, if a little tipsy, Rose made her way out into the castle grounds and was fumbling in her purse for cigarettes when she promptly tripped over several bodies sprawled across the stone steps.
“I knew you’d fall head over heels for me one day, Weaslette.”
Rose picked herself up, rubbing her grazed elbow and scowled at the three men now sniggering above her. Scorpius, Albus and Fred were all looking rather worse for wear, passing a half-empty bottle of Ogden’s between themselves, eyes bleary and grins lopsided. Albus also appeared to have multiple bright red lipstick smears all over his face which Rose quickly decided not to ask about.
“You’re all drunk,”
Scorpius tipped the bottle towards her. “Very astute of you, Rosie,”
“That’s why she’s the Ravenclaw of the family,” Albus hiccupped. Fred let out a grunt and slumped sideways.
Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Come on Blondie, I think we’d better find your portkey and get you home,”
“Is that an invitation?” Scorpius cracked a cheeky grin. Albus snorted beside him.
She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, when you smell like a distillery,” she muttered, hauling him off the steps and swinging his arm over her shoulders. “Al, make sure Freddie doesn’t die, please?”
He offered her a strange, uncoordinated salute.
Together, they set off across the pitch-black lawn, tripping and stumbling over the wet grass as she struggled to keep him on two feet and stop him from singing the old Hogwarts school song at the same time.
“What happened tonight?” Rose asked, trying and failing to keep them going in a straight line. Had he always been this tall and this heavy? “You don’t usually drink this much.”
“I was just having fun, that is allowed isn’t it? You were having lots of fun...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and Bonnie Prince Big-Nose, all over each other all night,”
Rose frowned. “You really shouldn’t call him that. It wasn’t funny when we were sixteen and it’s even less funny now that he’s had facial spell-casting to correct it.”
“So that’s why you fancy him now then, eh? Now he’s all rich and pretty-,” he sulked.
“Of course not! Although it’s nice to know you think I have such low moral standards.” She gave him a shove which sent him stumbling about six feet to the left into a rogue patch of shrubbery. “Besides, I don’t see what the problem is. I’m only going for dinner with him.”
“Why don’t you go for dinner with me instead?”
“We go for dinner all the time! Look, is this because I didn’t let you wear a kilt? Macmillan’s Scottish, he’s allowed-,”
“No! Well, maybe a bit,” Scorpius tripped over his Italian made dragon-hide shoes. “It’s just- I don’t know,” he sighed, running a hand through already dishevelled hair. “You know I love you, don’t you, Weasley?”
“Love you too,” she rolled her eyes, the faint blue glow of an old shopping basket coming into view ahead.
“No, no, listen. I’m telling you I love you.”
“I know you do!” she laughed, shrieking as they slipped on the wet grass. “Tell me if you’re going to be sick so I can get out of the splash radius-,”
“Weasley, listen to me!”
He turned suddenly, trying to grab her shoulders but the impulsive move made them both lose their footing, Rose’s heels disappearing from under her and Scorpius, still holding onto her arm, toppling down the embankment after her. She screamed, limbs and hair flying, until they eventually landed in a heap at the bottom of the lawn, their knees, hands and bums all covered in mud- Rose on her back, legs splayed and laughing her head off whilst Scorpius, with his face in her armpit, was a crumpled mess on top of her, his portkey now glowing brightly besides them.
He swore loudly, which just made Rose laugh even harder and propped himself up on one elbow, grinning down at her beneath him.
“Rosie?”
“You are definitely paying my dry-cleaning bill-,” she snorted.
“Don’t you understand?” he shushed her, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you, as more than just a friend.”
And then he bent down and pressed his lips softly against hers, his messy blonde hair flopping forwards and tickling her cheek for just a second before his hand came down on the fluorescent shopping basket and he disappeared into the night, leaving Rose to stare, breathless and astonished, up at the dark and empty sky.
~
The very next morning, Louis Weasley was rudely awoken by something aggressive hammering against his front door. Slumping down the stairs, he’d barely had chance to fit his key in the lock when something red, fast and loud forced itself into his flat, marching past him into the kitchen where it proceeded to bang around in his cupboards and wrench open the bottle of champagne he’d been saving for his birthday.
“Rosie, what’s going on?” he yawned. “You don’t usually wake up until at least... well, late afternoon.”
Ignoring this and swallowing a glass-full of bubbly in one, Rose raked a hand through uncombed curls and fixed him with a frown. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Funny you should ask, actually-,”
“Louis, is Scorpius in love with me?”
He groaned and collapsed into a chair. “Oh merde, I’m not going back to bed, am I?”
“Louis, please! This is serious!” She slammed down her glass and began pacing the kitchen. Louis let his head sink onto the table. “Last night, Scorpius was drunk and as I was trying to get him to his portkey-,”
“I believe that’s called taking advantage,” Louis muttered.
Rose shot him a glare. “Oh shut up, we didn’t do anything! Speaking of which,” she rounded on him then, grabbing a tea towel and swatting at his head. “The things I tell you in private, Louis Weasley, are supposed to stay that way! If I’d wanted Lily and the rest of the family to know I’d slept with Scorpius, I would have put it in my mother’s newsletter.”
“Now that month’s I would actually read,” he laughed, ducking as she threw the dish cloth at him.
“Anyway,” she composed herself, “we were sort of lying at the bottom of a hill and then he just came right out and told me that he loved me,” she took a deep breath, “as more than just a friend...”
Louis’ eyebrows shot skyward.
“Exactly,” Rose muttered glumly, sinking into a chair across from him. “And now I don’t know what to think. I mean, he was so hammered- Merlin, he couldn’t even stand up- but he’s never said anything like that to me before,” she turned to him, wide eyed, “Do you think he meant it? Does he really love me?”
Louis stared at her in confusion, “Well, of course he does, has done for ages.”
Rose blinked, dumbfounded, “Don’t say it like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and I’m a complete moron for missing it! How was I supposed to know what he was thinking?”
“I thought the two of you were practically joined at the brain. And besides, we’ve all been telling you this since the first time you brought him home for dinner,” Louis folded his arms, smugly.
“Oh come on, if he’s so in love with me, how come he’s had more girlfriends than I’ve had cocktails these last few years?”
“Because you’ve had just as many men hanging around,” he laughed, incredulously. “Your love-life’s basically been a revolving door of Scorpius look-alikes since you were eighteen.”
“It has not!” she gasped.
“You made Charlie McLaggen bleach his hair before you’d go out with him,”
“So I like blondes! That doesn’t mean anything!”
“Well, what about all this we-hate-marriage business then? ‘Marriage isn’t a word, Louis; it’s a sentence,’” he reeled off, mockingly.
“Well, it is!” She glared across the table at him. “It’s a well-known process I like to call spousal-agglomeration. After marriage, people just disappear from your life. They suddenly just become two halves of a whole and you lose people, Louis!” she shouted, “Marriage takes them away from you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Firstly, ‘spousal-aggloma-whatsits’ is definitely not a real thing. And secondly, it’s obvious that this is just some ridiculous guise the two of you have come up with to try and ignore your feelings for each other.”
“What are you talking about?” she snapped, dismissively.
“Think about it, Rosie. Who exactly are all these people that you’re so terrified will disappear into the death-grip of marriage? I mean, it’s certainly not Teddy or Vic, those two were practically Siamese twins already, joined at the groin since the second she turned seventeen,”
“Oh very poetic, can’t imagine why you didn’t put that in your speech,”
He ignored her, “And we both know you only went to the Finnigans’ do for the free whiskey, in fact you couldn’t care less about these people. But Scorpius, the man who calls you every night and lives at your flat half the week, who knows you inside and out better than anyone else in the world and who would do anything for you without you even having to ask- now that’s someone I can understand you not wanting to lose.”
Louis shrugged, “You don’t hate marriage, Rose; you just hate the idea of Scorpius marrying someone that isn’t you.”
Rose took a moment to process this, gaping at him unashamedly, her face beginning to turn a most unflattering shade of crimson. She tried to scowl at him, but found herself distracted by the arrival of a strange and uncomfortable thumping sensation in her ribcage.
“This is, I mean...that’s nonsense,” her mouth was suddenly and inexplicably dry.
She felt very odd, a little queasy and almost weightless, as if someone were very slowly pulling the rug out from beneath her feet. And she was confused, very confused, like someone else had switched all the colours around when she wasn’t looking and the world had suddenly turned purple. It was rather disconcerting, to say the least.
“I have to go,” she started, loudly. “You’re just twisting my words and it isn’t helping,” she tried her best to sound very cross as she scrambled to her feet, actively avoiding her cousin’s smug grin as she marched back to the front door.
“Just one more thing,” Louis called after her, cheerily.
“What now?” she turned her glare on him, face growing hot.
“How did it feel when he told you that he loved you?”
“Oh Merlin, I don’t know, I don’t remember.”
“Of course you do! We could role-play it if you liked-.”
“No!” she scowled. “Look, it felt...horrible. It made me nervous and dizzy and not in a good way,” she added quickly as Louis began to gush. “I felt like he’d ruined everything without even thinking, without caring about the friendship that he might have just destroyed. It was just so...so selfish!” she stamped her foot, cantankerously. “And then that made me angry! Because he’d been so thoughtless and I mean, who tells a girl that they love her, kisses her and then just vanishes? He should have stayed and talked to me or, or kissed me again, or at least given me chance to say it back to him before-,” she froze, mid-admission and slowly turned to stare up at Louis, aghast. “Oh... bugger...”
“And the penny drops,” he grinned, cheerfully. “Congratulations, Weasley, you’re in love. Now go away and bother someone else.”
And with that, he pushed her out into the street and slammed the door shut in her face.
~
Mr. & Mrs. Percy Weasley
request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter,
Molly Audrey
to
Frank Alastor Longbottom
on Friday, 16th August, 11 o’clock
Reception to follow at The Three Broomsticks.
~
The following two weeks were truly awful. Rose absolutely did not want to be the one to make the first move and neither, it seemed, did Scorpius. There were no nightly Floo calls, no mid-afternoon coffees, not even an overpriced dinner at their favourite Muggle restaurant. Both parties seemed to have gone officially incommunicado, and Rose didn’t quite know whether to feel hurt by this or just out-right furious.
On three separate occasions she’d thought she’d seen him loitering outside her flat. Twice, she’d hidden beneath the window, the third time though she’d actually gone out, approached what turned out to be a total stranger and kicked him very hard in the shins.
With Molly and Frank’s wedding inching closer day by day, Rose was really starting to panic. She was a bridesmaid, an honour she’d been trying very hard to weasel out of for months now, and as one of Frank’s closest friends, Scorpius had also been asked to be a groomsman which meant that no matter how determined or how hard they tried, there was no way they’d be able to avoid each other for long.
By the time she found herself being pinned into a hideous fuchsia pink dress, her Aunt Audrey fussing over everyone’s hair and Uncle Percy sitting quietly in a corner looking oddly green, Rose herself was a nervous wreck and about ready to hex the face off of the first blonde she set eyes on. She hoped for her Aunt Fleur’s sake that she kept her distance.
To make matters that little bit worse, Molly and Frank had really gone overboard with the decorations. An army of miniature cherubs hovered over the rows of guests in the Burrow’s back garden, potted Flutterby bushes lurked in every corner and there were so many self-playing harps that Rose could barely hear herself think which, at approximately ten to eleven, was probably actually a very good thing...
“Malfoy! You’re late!” Albus, Frank’s best man, practically pounced on Scorpius as he skulked into the kitchen. Rose, who had her back to him, felt her whole body stiffen at the first whiff of that all-too familiar cologne. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. Go help Rosie with her dress.”
“Potter, can’t you-?”
“Malfoy, now.”
Rose refused to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare intently at the mirror in front her which, unfortunately, offered an equally good view of the blonde as he marched over. She couldn’t deny he looked ridiculously handsome in his dark green dress robes, hair perfectly tamed, bow-tie still hanging loose around his neck. Of course, the scowl he was wearing and his apparent distaste for her general proximity was a tad off-putting.
“Stand still,” he muttered, gruffly, placing a warm hand on her waist and making goosebumps erupt all down her arms. He didn’t once look up or meet her gaze in the reflection as he set to work on her buttons, Rose’s entire body tingling with electricity each time his fingers brushed over freckled skin. She couldn’t help but stare at him though, wrestling internally with the desire to wring the git’s neck with both ends of his bow-tie, whilst all the while re-playing their last conversation together. The way he had stared at her, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with whiskey and mud, the taste of him on her tongue- heady and sweet- as he’d brought his lips to hers-
Buggering Hell, she cursed, Louis was right. She was well and truly loved up on Scorpius Malfoy and he was choosing this mile-stone moment to be a complete and utter prick.
“Need a hand?” she muttered, cheeks hot, gesturing to his tie.
He shook his head quickly. “I’ll manage,” not looking up. Rose felt as if someone had punched her in the gut, her throat suddenly full of cotton wool. “How was your date with Macmillan?” he asked quietly, feigning indifference.
Rose frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t go.”
“Why not?” he asked, quickly.
“I’ve actually been rather pre-occupied lately,”
“Nothing too troubling I hope.”
“Oh, you know,” she muttered, off-hand, “just a complete git deciding to ignore me for a fortnight even though he’s supposed to be my best friend. Nothing important.”
She felt him tense at the snub, pausing over her last button. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”
“No, of course not. You just couldn’t quite manage to get your head out of your arse long enough to speak to me.”
Swearing under his breath, he suddenly grabbed Rose by the elbow, steering her quickly and un-noticed past the others and out into the Burrow’s front yard, both tripping over the usual mountain of Wellingtons on the top step. He slammed the door shut firmly behind them and rounded on her, eyes narrowed.
“Before you get too comfortable on your high horse, Weasley, I don’t seem to recall you trying that hard to talk to me either! And, for your information, I did come to your flat-,”
“I knew that was you!” she hissed, jabbing a finger at him.
“And I saw you dive behind that hideous couch of yours! I assumed you didn’t want to see me!”
“Is that why you’re being such a prat?” she shouted. “Because you think I don’t like you anymore? That’s moronic!”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well, there’s also the fact that your hair and that dress are burning my corneas beyond repair. That outfit would put anyone in a foul mood.”
“I could hex your balls off right now, Malfoy.”
“Hardly, your aim’s worse than Frank’s,”
She clenched her fists. “Merlin, I hate you.”
Scorpius sighed angrily, raking a hand through his hair and fixing her with a scowl. “Don’t say that.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Rose could feel her face growing hot, her chest already tight. “I thought we were into declaring all our feelings without thinking these days? Or don’t you remember your little alcohol fuelled confession?”
“Of course I remember,” he muttered.
“Is it true?”
He took a moment, dark greys eyes surveying hazel. “I don’t suppose there’s any point denying it now. The boggart’s well and truly out the cupboard, as they say.”
Rose let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, her stomach doing an uneasy little flip.
“For how long?” she asked, nervously.
Scorpius shrugged. “On and off since we were eighteen.”
“And now-?”
“On. Permanently.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she shouted, suddenly furious. Despite finally beginning to acknowledge her own desires, it was still a horrible feeling, discovering that three years of solid friendship had somehow all been a lie. “And why wait until you were blind drunk to just blurt it out like that?”
“Well, what did you expect me to do?” He glared at her. “Maybe if you weren’t always harping on about how you loathe commitment and think love and marriage is for fools, then you wouldn’t be quite so intimidating to potential suitors!”
“I’ve never used that exact phrase,”
He arched an eyebrow. “You wrote that in my parents’ anniversary card: ‘Dear Malfoys. Love and marriage is for fools. Sincerely, Rose.’ It was one of your more poetic attempts, I believe.”
“Anyone ever told you it’s the thought that counts?” she sulked.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re a twisted young woman, Weasley?”
She folded her arms and huffed, indignantly, turning away from him to stare at the crumbling, old broom-shed. This wasn’t right- this wasn’t something two people were supposed to argue about. When someone you adore tells you that they’re in love with you, Rose thought, getting annoyed probably wasn’t a typical reaction and yet here they were. She could feel that hot simmer bubbling away in her chest, the heavy pounding of her pulse in her ears and she knew it wasn’t just because she’d been ignored and left to stress for a few weeks.
She felt abandoned, like Scorpius had jumped ship on her and left her to fight for their friendship alone. Louis, for all his many inaccuracies, had been right about one thing- she was terrified of losing her best friend, and surely change meant just that? You couldn’t be best friends and lovers at the same time; no-one gets to have their cauldron cake and eat it too.
“I don’t understand,” Rose muttered, tersely, scuffing a satin shoe against the flagstones. “I thought you felt the same way? ‘Sacrifice at the altar,’ and all that.”
“Turns out its surprisingly easy to change your mind for the right person.” His voice was soft and flat, and made Rose feel as though she’d just swallowed a snitch. “Look, Weaslette, its simple. I’m in love with you and there’s not much I can do about that, I’m afraid. I just need to know how you feel.”
And wasn’t that just the million galleon question?
Rose sighed in frustration. “I feel like this isn’t the right time to be talking about this.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Scorpius groaned, angrily.
“We’re at a wedding, emotions are running high, that’s all,”
“Rose, it’s taken us almost five years to have this conversation!” He grabbed her hand as she marched back towards the house. “I couldn’t give a damn where we are, just tell me whether you feel the same? Do you love me, yes or no?”
“I can’t just-,”
“Rose, please!”
“Fine! Yes!” she hissed. “Yes, of course I do, you intolerable git! But that isn’t the point!”
“That is completely the point!” he laughed, incredulously.
“No, it isn’t!” she shoved him away. “Obviously I’m in love with you and yes, those four nights we’ve spent together were probably the best four nights of my life- oh, don’t look so smug.” She swatted at him as he began to smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I want to be with you!”
“Well, why the bloody Hell not?” he frowned.
“Because we’re friends, Malfoy! People aren’t allowed to be in love with their friends, it doesn’t work like that.”
Scorpius appeared to consider this for a moment. “Fine, then I officially de-friend you.”
Rose blinked at him, affronted. “Well… that’s not very nice,”
He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Now, if you ever want to see me again, you’ll have to ask me out on a date.”
“Don’t be absurd-,”
“You’re right, we can probably skip that part. Do you prefer the term girlfriend, or significant other?”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” she dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to pretend she didn’t get a serious thrill out of either option. “Don’t you understand? If we were together we’d get sick of each other within a month, I’d do something annoying that you just couldn’t stand, or I’d start to get mad whenever you told one of your awful jokes-,”
He scoffed. “My jokes are not awful,”
She ignored him. “We’d end up resenting each other and then I wouldn’t just lose a boyfriend, I’d lose my best friend as well. As we are now, we’re perfect. When we fight I know we’ll always come back to each other but if that were to change…” her voice hitched as her eyes began to mist. “I- I can’t lose you, Scorpius, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
Suddenly, his arms were around her, his fingers running through her auburn curls as he pulled her tightly against him. She buried her dampening cheeks in the crook of his neck, breathing in that wonderful scent, and clung to the front of his dress robes as if any moment he might just turn on his heel and flee.
“Rose,” he muttered, kissing her forehead lightly, “I know everything about you, I spend more time with you than I do by myself. If I haven’t been put off or got sick of you yet, I don’t think that’s likely to change just because I get to see you naked more often.” She made a muffled sound of protest. “Besides, I’d take that chance any day rather than let you date that sod, Macmillan. I’ve heard he doesn’t even wear anything under that kilt, the man’s totally barbaric!”
Rose couldn’t help but burst out laughing and peered up at him, eyes streaming. He grinned and brushed her hair away from mascara stained cheeks.
“There’s no-one else for me, Weaslette, you know that.”
Taking a deep breath, she stood up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips tentatively against his. Scorpius responded with fervour, squeezing her gently at the waist as he kissed her back earnestly and insistently, till he had her mewing in his arms. It was so familiar and yet so foreign all at once and Rose felt her entire core melt and trickle down her spine, pooling in her navel and dripping down into her toes.
Reluctantly, she tore herself away, laughing nervously as she tried to hide her rosy cheeks. “If we’re going to do this properly, you have to promise me one thing?”
He offered her a lipstick-smudged grin. “Go on?”
She fixed him with a firm stare. “Never, ever, ask me to marry you.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Deadly. And believe me, you’ll want to, but you’ll have to fight the urge because those are my terms. Take them or leave them."
Scorpius eyed her in amusement for a moment and sighed. “I’ll take you anyway I can, Weasley. You have my word.” And then he set about snogging her silly in her grandparents’ garden.
~
Over the following two years, Scorpius broke his promise seven times. Eventually, Rose proposed to him, just to shut him up. Or so she says…
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Poll Till Marriage Do Us Part
Author: enchantedteapot
Prompt:”Marriage isn’t a word; it’s a sentence.”
Summary: It’s wedding season in the wizarding world, and for two people who loathe the idea of marriage, Rose and Scorpius certainly seem to get invited to a lot of them.
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Mild bad language. References to sex.
Word Count: 7100
A/N: Huge thank you to my beta, makoshark8. All remaining errors are completely my own.
~
Mr. and Mrs. William A. Weasley
cordially request your presence at the marriage of their daughter
Victoire Gabrielle
to
Ted Remus Lupin
on Saturday, July 5th
at eight o’clock in the evening
Shell Cottage, Pembrokeshire.
~
“Who the Hell gets married on a beach, anyway?” Rose Weasley grumbled to no-one in particular, leaning against the side of the house as she emptied a mountain of sand from her brand new high heels.
Unlike the young witch’s mood, the setting was idyllic. Her cousins’ childhood home had been transformed into a nuptial paradise, the enchanted white marquee shimmering in the last of the sunlight whilst crystal waves rolled in along the golden shore-line. The reception was already in full swing and the army of guests, more than half of whom Rose had never met in her life, certainly sounded like they were having an excellent time. Raucous laughter and cheers carried across the beach whilst someone, who sounded suspiciously like Albus, had begun a hearty karaoke rendition of The Weird Sisters latest hit.
Rose had managed to slip out unnoticed, grabbing the opportunity for a moment of peace and a sly cigarette before she surrendered herself back into the usual chaos. Weasley family events were ridiculous at the best of times, but a wedding? You were lucky if you made it out with even one ear drum intact.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, all several hundred of them, it was just that Rose often felt a little overwhelmed by her relatives’...err, enthusiasm for life? The yelling, the charging about, the taking off of one’s clothes in a public place, it could all get a little too much for one woman. Now, at the ripe old age of twenty-one, she’d grown used to having her own space, her own life and it was sometimes a little tough trying to fit back into that Weasley niche. Thank Merlin Scorpius was here or else she might have drowned herself in the decorative champagne fountain by now.
Rose was just conceding that there might actually be worse ways to go when...
“There you are, Weasley! I thought you’d quit?”
She glanced up sheepishly at the oncoming figure, relaxing at the rather obvious lack of bright red hair. “I have! I mean, I almost have. It’s a gradual process, Malfoy,” she snapped, sulkily, moving to stub out the offending cigarette amongst the sand.
“Well, I can hardly let you succumb to temptation alone,” Scorpius propped himself against the wall beside her.
“I thought you’d given up?”
“It’s a gradual process, apparently,” he mocked, accepting the out-stretched packet and dipping into the pocket of his tailor-cut trousers for his wand before looping an arm around her shoulders. “Your mother sent me to find you. Her majesty, Victoire, is having a melt-down.”
Rose snorted. “Naturally. How’s Teddy?”
“His hair’s a bit greener than usual but otherwise fine. The man’s so laid back I thought he might fall asleep at the altar. Your Uncle Harry keeps trying to give him man-to-man chats, what is it with Gryffindors and poetic speeches?” he shook his head, taking a long, deep drag of his cigarette. “More emotions than sense, most of them.”
“Don’t let them hear you say that inside,” she grinned, “House loyalty’s still a big deal in this family,”
“Tell me about it. There isn’t a room in your parents’ house that isn’t painted in some offensive shade of maroon. Here, fix my bow-tie would you?”
Rose ‘tsked’, but swatted away his fumbling thumbs. “You know, one of these days, I might not be around to do this for you,” she muttered, smiling teasingly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Wherever I go, you go, and vice versa. You are my everything, Weasley.”
She chuckled darkly, “Good to see that biting sarcasm of yours isn’t dampened by the occasion. Lift your chin.”
Scorpius obliged. “Sarcasm? These words are straight from the heart! Salazar’s balls, I’ve come over all Gryffindor.”
Rose and Scorpius had always seemed an unlikely couple, which made sense, because they weren’t. They were, however, about as close as two people could be without actually getting in to bed with one another- which was something they’d only ever tried once... Oh alright, three, maybe four times but it was always just for fun and usually after several bottles of cheap Merlot.
In essence, they were best friends, had been ever since their paths had crossed as fifth years, both protesting their lack of prefect badge; he a Slytherin and she a Ravenclaw. And whilst the following six years hadn’t always been smooth sailing- the Weasley temper and Malfoy vanity made for some vicious encounters, everyone knew there was no shaking this marriage of sharp minds and dry humour. Merlin knew both their father’s had tried hard enough at one time or another, to absolutely no avail.
“So what do we make of tonight then?” Scorpius mused, after a moment. “I’d say it’s better than Goldstein’s do, what did we give that one?”
“A four out of ten, I think,”
He frowned, “Seems low, even for our standards.”
“I believe you were disappointed at the time by the distinct lack of nudity,”
“Ah yes,” he laughed, loudly, “nothing like dinner and a show.”
Rose didn’t quite manage to deliver the poisonous scowl she was hoping for. “There,” she muttered, brushing down the front of his dress-robes and stepping back. “Dashing as ever, Malfoy.”
He offered her his best swoon-inducing smirk. “Without fail. Now come on, Weaslette.” He ditched the cigarette and laced his fingers through hers. “Someone’s made a fatal error with the portkey bookings and they think I’m going home without you. We’ll need your Ravenclaw brilliance to save the day.”
She grinned, “Has that line ever actually worked?”
“Only-,”
“And don’t say only on my mother!”
“Then no, never.”
As soon as the pair stepped back beneath the awnings, the volume seemed to rise to a fever pitch. A procession of guests, led by Rose’s Uncle George, cha-cha’ed their way passed the duo, whilst her Aunt Fleur and Teddy’s grandmother clung to each other in a fit of emotional hysterics. The Potter brothers were busy trying to out-drink one another at the open bar, their cousin Fred and Frank Longbottom cheering them on, and the bride and groom- totally oblivious to the pandemonium around them- were feeding each other wedding cake and snogging in a corner.
“Merlin, I love your family,” Scorpius grinned, throwing his arm over Rose’s shoulders again. Rose rolled her eyes.
It was remarkable, really, how quickly the whole Weasley and Potter brood had warmed to Scorpius. Even Rose’s dad, for all his initial and badly disguised suspicions of the smooth-talking blonde, had finally been won over after excessive dinner-time discussion of the Chudley Cannons’ defensive strength. The closeness of the pair had at first confused quite a few of the cousins- particularly Lily, who believed that men and women would only ever enjoy spending time together for one reason and one reason only, but after years of peddling the ‘just friends’ chat, even her questions had eventually dried up.
Finally battling their way through the never-ending conga line, Rose and Scorpius found themselves seats at the bar and, having snagged an unattended bottle of champagne, set about toasting themselves into a cheery bliss. They’d just raised their glasses in honour of the day Hugo would finally get himself a girlfriend when Lily and Louis came stumbling out of the throng.
“There you two are!” Lily beamed. “Rosie, darling, you look lovely, but did you have to wear black? You look like somebody’s died.”
“Two peoples social lives are about to,” Rose muttered. Beside her, Scorpius snorted into his champagne.
“Oh that’s right, I forgot,” she grimaced, hopping onto the next stool along. “You two are co-founders of the anti-wedding movement, aren’t you?”
“Not at all! Scorpius protested, “We love weddings, don’t we Rose?”
“Of course! Free food, booze and a drunken Uncle Percy- what’s not to love? It’s more the part that comes afterwards that we intend to fight off with every last breath.”
“You mean marriage? Oh, it’s only a word-,”
“Marriage isn’t a word, Louis,” Rose gasped, “it’s a sentence! I mean, the clue is in the vows: ‘Till death do us part’? That’s creepy stuff.” Scorpius was nodding, gravely. “All the ‘do you promise’ this and ‘honour and obey’ that. It’s practically a modern version of human sacrifice!”
“Why else do you think they call it an altar?” Scorpius interjected, smugly.
“Yes, yes, alright. Very clever,” Louis rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t care what you bitter old love-scrooges say, I’ve had a wonderful time. I just wish Great-Aunt Muriel would stop forcing me to dance with her,”
Rose and Lily exchanged looks, “Aunt Muriel’s dead, Louis,”
“Is she? Since when?”
“Since we were six,”
“Oh, merde! Then who’s that old woman I keep kissing at Christmas?”
“You know, you really shouldn’t talk about Aunt Audrey that way,” Rose tutt-ed and the rest of them fell into choking fits of laughter.
The rest of the evening continued in a similar, buoyant manner. Scorpius and Rose got steadily tipsy, knocking back the champagne till even the most basic of sarcastic quips had become a challenge. Lily, meanwhile, danced with any single man she wasn’t related to and Louis sought confirmation of his great-great-aunt’s passing, until their Uncle George had insisted on a family rendition of the Macarena. Scorpius had watched on gleefully, chiding Rose for her distinct lack of enthusiasm and descending into hysterics when she tripped over Victoire’s train and fell on her arse.
Hours later, when it was just Rose’s parents left slowly swaying on the dance-floor and James and Albus had passed out in the cloakroom, Rose walked Scorpius back to the fireplace in Shell Cottage. The beach and the house were finally quiet, with the newly-weds having rushed off to spend the night in some fancy hotel before the honeymoon and Rose’s Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill already asleep- leaving just the faint crackle of green embers in the hearth for the guests who had yet to clear off.
“I’ll probably get roped into cleaning up at this rate,” Rose yawned as Scorpius pulled on his jacket, a little unsteady on his feet.
“Stay at mine if you like,” he cocked an eyebrow suggestively.
“Pfft, in your dreams,”
“Every night, Weaslette. Every night.” He grinned as he pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her lightly on the top of her curls.
“Floo me tomorrow?” she asked and he nodded, giving her a last squeeze before vanishing into the emerald flames.
Rose stood for a moment in the empty living room; the distant hiss of the tide on the shore just about audible over Uncle Bill’s snoring. Perhaps, if she hadn’t been so tired, she would have wondered at that strange little twinge of disappointment she’d felt, watching Scorpius leave and go his separate way home. And maybe, if she hadn’t had that last glass of champagne, she’d have had the clarity to be concerned by the unusual thump in her chest as they’d said their goodbyes. But as it was, Rose was sleepy and Rose was drunk and so, with a heavy sigh, she slumped into the nearest arm-chair and forgot all about it.
~
Seamus & Lavender Finnigan
invite their nearest and dearest to join them
as they re-new their wedding vows
in celebration of their love and commitment to one another.
12’ noon
Dromore Castle, Kenmare, Ireland
~
“Well, this is absurd,” Rose shook her head in disbelief as she and Scorpius shuffled along a pew in search of seats. “Why anyone would want to do this once is beyond me, but twice? Now that’s just bloody stupid.”
Three weeks after Teddy and Victoire had officially become Mr. and Mrs. Lupin, the cynical pair once again found themselves donning their Sunday best, this time complete with shamrock green headband and cufflinks. They’d been half an hour late for their portkey that morning, owing to an argument over whether it was appropriate for Scorpius to wear a kilt to the day’s festivities and so by the time they’d actually made it to the lavish location, tucked away in the Irish hills, the rest of Rose’s family were nowhere to be seen and seats were sparse.
“My father reckons it must be a last ditch attempt to save the marriage,” he whispered, as they squeezed into the midst of a noisy herd of elderly Irish women. “Something about Mr. Finnigan getting caught in his office with that Chaser from the Kestrels with the nice arse.”
Rose snorted loudly, “Nothing like re-arranging the deck chairs as the ship goes down.”
The women in front turned round to glare.
As it turned out, wedding ceremonies were even duller the second time around. It seemed as if every man, woman and child in Ireland had turned up to read a poem or recall a time they’d seen Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan very much in love. Rose noticed idly that no-one volunteered any happy memories from at least the last ten years.
By the time they’d reached the vows, she and Scorpius had played about six rounds of ‘I Spy’, during four of which Scorpius had been caught cheating, using his Legilimency training and making Rose very cross each time she realised what was going on.
“...And do you promise to continue to love and to cherish one another...to respect each other in years still to come...”
“To stop dropping your trousers around other women?” Scorpius muttered in Rose’s ear causing her to burst into a fit of badly-disguised sniggering.
The women on their right hissed their disapproval.
Whilst the ceremony itself might have dragged, there was no doubting the Irish knew how to throw a party. Having managed to reunite with the rest of her family for dinner, the pair were more than happy to get into the spirit of things, sampling the finest of Irish traditions. Certainly, after four rounds of firewhiskey and three pints of Guiness, even Rose and Scorpius were almost convinced that a second shot at married bliss was just what the Finnigans needed.
Now she and Lily sat, nursing some more Irish delight and watching on as the rest of their family and friends danced to a rather enthusiastic ceilidh band. Scorpius, who was dancing with Rose’s mum, caught her eye across the crowds and winked. She grinned back, mouthed ‘Flirt’ and laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows and twirled Hermione back into the throng.
“And you’re quite sure the two of you aren’t madly in love?”
Rose quickly sent Lily a poisonous scowl.
She held up her hands in defence, “Call me old fashioned but I just assumed that when best friends started sleeping together, it might be time to reassess the situation...”
“‘Started sleeping-!’ I can count the number of times that’s happened on one hand, Lily! And just how do you know about that, anyway?”
Lily shrugged noncommittally, “Louis.”
Rose mentally cursed her high cheek-boned, loose-tongued cousin. “You know I’m amazed that git is so bad at Quidditch. He could easily catch a Quaffle in a mouth that size. ”
Lily grinned. “You’re avoiding the question.”
“For your sake, I was treating it as rhetorical. Anyway, it’s not like...that,” she wrinkled her nose. “We just- I mean, at the time it was... well, there was a lot of wine involved.”
“There always is with you two.”
Rose glowered, “Scorpius and I are just friends. You all know that.”
Lily rolled her eyes, “Well then, single girl, what on Earth are you doing sitting here talking to me? Look,” she nodded towards the bar, “there’s Archie Macmillan. You two were friends at school, weren’t you?”
“‘Friends’ is a strong word. We both took Advanced Astronomy, that’s all,” Rose shrugged.
“Well, why don’t you go over there and see if your star signs are compatible?”
“That’s astrology. Merlin Lily, I’m still astonished you can even spell your own name sometimes.” She dodged the well manicured hand that flew her way. “And I’m not going to chat up some bloke just to prove to you that I’m not in love with Scorpius.”
“What about for the free drinks?”
“Slightly more tempting,” she conceded, reluctantly plastering on a smile as Lily waved the kilt-clad young man over.
Much to her surprise, Archie Macmillan wasn’t actually half bad company. He was funny, with an easy charm and a rather rugged highland accent to boot. He could also remember, with startling clarity, a number of nostalgic Hogwarts anecdotes that had Rose laughing hysterically over the several cocktails he seemed more than willing to buy her. Nor was he a half bad dancer which she discovered after he’d insisted on dragging her out onto the floor for a bit of a waltz, which then turned into a salsa, three tango’s and a rather well-executed foxtrot. In fact, she was having so much fun, she didn’t even notice Scorpius, now sat back at the table with Albus and Fred and watching her intently over the rim of his many glasses of whiskey, frowning each time Archie leant in closer to whisper in Rose’s ear and she would tip her head back, laughing prettily.
It wasn’t until several hours later, when Rose’s feet couldn’t take one quickstep more, that she finally made her excuses, leaving Archie with her Floo number and an invitation to take her out to dinner later that week. Feeling quite pleased with herself, if a little tipsy, Rose made her way out into the castle grounds and was fumbling in her purse for cigarettes when she promptly tripped over several bodies sprawled across the stone steps.
“I knew you’d fall head over heels for me one day, Weaslette.”
Rose picked herself up, rubbing her grazed elbow and scowled at the three men now sniggering above her. Scorpius, Albus and Fred were all looking rather worse for wear, passing a half-empty bottle of Ogden’s between themselves, eyes bleary and grins lopsided. Albus also appeared to have multiple bright red lipstick smears all over his face which Rose quickly decided not to ask about.
“You’re all drunk,”
Scorpius tipped the bottle towards her. “Very astute of you, Rosie,”
“That’s why she’s the Ravenclaw of the family,” Albus hiccupped. Fred let out a grunt and slumped sideways.
Rose cocked an eyebrow. “Come on Blondie, I think we’d better find your portkey and get you home,”
“Is that an invitation?” Scorpius cracked a cheeky grin. Albus snorted beside him.
She rolled her eyes. “Not likely, when you smell like a distillery,” she muttered, hauling him off the steps and swinging his arm over her shoulders. “Al, make sure Freddie doesn’t die, please?”
He offered her a strange, uncoordinated salute.
Together, they set off across the pitch-black lawn, tripping and stumbling over the wet grass as she struggled to keep him on two feet and stop him from singing the old Hogwarts school song at the same time.
“What happened tonight?” Rose asked, trying and failing to keep them going in a straight line. Had he always been this tall and this heavy? “You don’t usually drink this much.”
“I was just having fun, that is allowed isn’t it? You were having lots of fun...”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You and Bonnie Prince Big-Nose, all over each other all night,”
Rose frowned. “You really shouldn’t call him that. It wasn’t funny when we were sixteen and it’s even less funny now that he’s had facial spell-casting to correct it.”
“So that’s why you fancy him now then, eh? Now he’s all rich and pretty-,” he sulked.
“Of course not! Although it’s nice to know you think I have such low moral standards.” She gave him a shove which sent him stumbling about six feet to the left into a rogue patch of shrubbery. “Besides, I don’t see what the problem is. I’m only going for dinner with him.”
“Why don’t you go for dinner with me instead?”
“We go for dinner all the time! Look, is this because I didn’t let you wear a kilt? Macmillan’s Scottish, he’s allowed-,”
“No! Well, maybe a bit,” Scorpius tripped over his Italian made dragon-hide shoes. “It’s just- I don’t know,” he sighed, running a hand through already dishevelled hair. “You know I love you, don’t you, Weasley?”
“Love you too,” she rolled her eyes, the faint blue glow of an old shopping basket coming into view ahead.
“No, no, listen. I’m telling you I love you.”
“I know you do!” she laughed, shrieking as they slipped on the wet grass. “Tell me if you’re going to be sick so I can get out of the splash radius-,”
“Weasley, listen to me!”
He turned suddenly, trying to grab her shoulders but the impulsive move made them both lose their footing, Rose’s heels disappearing from under her and Scorpius, still holding onto her arm, toppling down the embankment after her. She screamed, limbs and hair flying, until they eventually landed in a heap at the bottom of the lawn, their knees, hands and bums all covered in mud- Rose on her back, legs splayed and laughing her head off whilst Scorpius, with his face in her armpit, was a crumpled mess on top of her, his portkey now glowing brightly besides them.
He swore loudly, which just made Rose laugh even harder and propped himself up on one elbow, grinning down at her beneath him.
“Rosie?”
“You are definitely paying my dry-cleaning bill-,” she snorted.
“Don’t you understand?” he shushed her, “I’m trying to tell you that I love you, as more than just a friend.”
And then he bent down and pressed his lips softly against hers, his messy blonde hair flopping forwards and tickling her cheek for just a second before his hand came down on the fluorescent shopping basket and he disappeared into the night, leaving Rose to stare, breathless and astonished, up at the dark and empty sky.
~
The very next morning, Louis Weasley was rudely awoken by something aggressive hammering against his front door. Slumping down the stairs, he’d barely had chance to fit his key in the lock when something red, fast and loud forced itself into his flat, marching past him into the kitchen where it proceeded to bang around in his cupboards and wrench open the bottle of champagne he’d been saving for his birthday.
“Rosie, what’s going on?” he yawned. “You don’t usually wake up until at least... well, late afternoon.”
Ignoring this and swallowing a glass-full of bubbly in one, Rose raked a hand through uncombed curls and fixed him with a frown. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Funny you should ask, actually-,”
“Louis, is Scorpius in love with me?”
He groaned and collapsed into a chair. “Oh merde, I’m not going back to bed, am I?”
“Louis, please! This is serious!” She slammed down her glass and began pacing the kitchen. Louis let his head sink onto the table. “Last night, Scorpius was drunk and as I was trying to get him to his portkey-,”
“I believe that’s called taking advantage,” Louis muttered.
Rose shot him a glare. “Oh shut up, we didn’t do anything! Speaking of which,” she rounded on him then, grabbing a tea towel and swatting at his head. “The things I tell you in private, Louis Weasley, are supposed to stay that way! If I’d wanted Lily and the rest of the family to know I’d slept with Scorpius, I would have put it in my mother’s newsletter.”
“Now that month’s I would actually read,” he laughed, ducking as she threw the dish cloth at him.
“Anyway,” she composed herself, “we were sort of lying at the bottom of a hill and then he just came right out and told me that he loved me,” she took a deep breath, “as more than just a friend...”
Louis’ eyebrows shot skyward.
“Exactly,” Rose muttered glumly, sinking into a chair across from him. “And now I don’t know what to think. I mean, he was so hammered- Merlin, he couldn’t even stand up- but he’s never said anything like that to me before,” she turned to him, wide eyed, “Do you think he meant it? Does he really love me?”
Louis stared at her in confusion, “Well, of course he does, has done for ages.”
Rose blinked, dumbfounded, “Don’t say it like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and I’m a complete moron for missing it! How was I supposed to know what he was thinking?”
“I thought the two of you were practically joined at the brain. And besides, we’ve all been telling you this since the first time you brought him home for dinner,” Louis folded his arms, smugly.
“Oh come on, if he’s so in love with me, how come he’s had more girlfriends than I’ve had cocktails these last few years?”
“Because you’ve had just as many men hanging around,” he laughed, incredulously. “Your love-life’s basically been a revolving door of Scorpius look-alikes since you were eighteen.”
“It has not!” she gasped.
“You made Charlie McLaggen bleach his hair before you’d go out with him,”
“So I like blondes! That doesn’t mean anything!”
“Well, what about all this we-hate-marriage business then? ‘Marriage isn’t a word, Louis; it’s a sentence,’” he reeled off, mockingly.
“Well, it is!” She glared across the table at him. “It’s a well-known process I like to call spousal-agglomeration. After marriage, people just disappear from your life. They suddenly just become two halves of a whole and you lose people, Louis!” she shouted, “Marriage takes them away from you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Firstly, ‘spousal-aggloma-whatsits’ is definitely not a real thing. And secondly, it’s obvious that this is just some ridiculous guise the two of you have come up with to try and ignore your feelings for each other.”
“What are you talking about?” she snapped, dismissively.
“Think about it, Rosie. Who exactly are all these people that you’re so terrified will disappear into the death-grip of marriage? I mean, it’s certainly not Teddy or Vic, those two were practically Siamese twins already, joined at the groin since the second she turned seventeen,”
“Oh very poetic, can’t imagine why you didn’t put that in your speech,”
He ignored her, “And we both know you only went to the Finnigans’ do for the free whiskey, in fact you couldn’t care less about these people. But Scorpius, the man who calls you every night and lives at your flat half the week, who knows you inside and out better than anyone else in the world and who would do anything for you without you even having to ask- now that’s someone I can understand you not wanting to lose.”
Louis shrugged, “You don’t hate marriage, Rose; you just hate the idea of Scorpius marrying someone that isn’t you.”
Rose took a moment to process this, gaping at him unashamedly, her face beginning to turn a most unflattering shade of crimson. She tried to scowl at him, but found herself distracted by the arrival of a strange and uncomfortable thumping sensation in her ribcage.
“This is, I mean...that’s nonsense,” her mouth was suddenly and inexplicably dry.
She felt very odd, a little queasy and almost weightless, as if someone were very slowly pulling the rug out from beneath her feet. And she was confused, very confused, like someone else had switched all the colours around when she wasn’t looking and the world had suddenly turned purple. It was rather disconcerting, to say the least.
“I have to go,” she started, loudly. “You’re just twisting my words and it isn’t helping,” she tried her best to sound very cross as she scrambled to her feet, actively avoiding her cousin’s smug grin as she marched back to the front door.
“Just one more thing,” Louis called after her, cheerily.
“What now?” she turned her glare on him, face growing hot.
“How did it feel when he told you that he loved you?”
“Oh Merlin, I don’t know, I don’t remember.”
“Of course you do! We could role-play it if you liked-.”
“No!” she scowled. “Look, it felt...horrible. It made me nervous and dizzy and not in a good way,” she added quickly as Louis began to gush. “I felt like he’d ruined everything without even thinking, without caring about the friendship that he might have just destroyed. It was just so...so selfish!” she stamped her foot, cantankerously. “And then that made me angry! Because he’d been so thoughtless and I mean, who tells a girl that they love her, kisses her and then just vanishes? He should have stayed and talked to me or, or kissed me again, or at least given me chance to say it back to him before-,” she froze, mid-admission and slowly turned to stare up at Louis, aghast. “Oh... bugger...”
“And the penny drops,” he grinned, cheerfully. “Congratulations, Weasley, you’re in love. Now go away and bother someone else.”
And with that, he pushed her out into the street and slammed the door shut in her face.
~
Mr. & Mrs. Percy Weasley
request the honour of your presence at the marriage of their daughter,
Molly Audrey
to
Frank Alastor Longbottom
on Friday, 16th August, 11 o’clock
Reception to follow at The Three Broomsticks.
~
The following two weeks were truly awful. Rose absolutely did not want to be the one to make the first move and neither, it seemed, did Scorpius. There were no nightly Floo calls, no mid-afternoon coffees, not even an overpriced dinner at their favourite Muggle restaurant. Both parties seemed to have gone officially incommunicado, and Rose didn’t quite know whether to feel hurt by this or just out-right furious.
On three separate occasions she’d thought she’d seen him loitering outside her flat. Twice, she’d hidden beneath the window, the third time though she’d actually gone out, approached what turned out to be a total stranger and kicked him very hard in the shins.
With Molly and Frank’s wedding inching closer day by day, Rose was really starting to panic. She was a bridesmaid, an honour she’d been trying very hard to weasel out of for months now, and as one of Frank’s closest friends, Scorpius had also been asked to be a groomsman which meant that no matter how determined or how hard they tried, there was no way they’d be able to avoid each other for long.
By the time she found herself being pinned into a hideous fuchsia pink dress, her Aunt Audrey fussing over everyone’s hair and Uncle Percy sitting quietly in a corner looking oddly green, Rose herself was a nervous wreck and about ready to hex the face off of the first blonde she set eyes on. She hoped for her Aunt Fleur’s sake that she kept her distance.
To make matters that little bit worse, Molly and Frank had really gone overboard with the decorations. An army of miniature cherubs hovered over the rows of guests in the Burrow’s back garden, potted Flutterby bushes lurked in every corner and there were so many self-playing harps that Rose could barely hear herself think which, at approximately ten to eleven, was probably actually a very good thing...
“Malfoy! You’re late!” Albus, Frank’s best man, practically pounced on Scorpius as he skulked into the kitchen. Rose, who had her back to him, felt her whole body stiffen at the first whiff of that all-too familiar cologne. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. Go help Rosie with her dress.”
“Potter, can’t you-?”
“Malfoy, now.”
Rose refused to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare intently at the mirror in front her which, unfortunately, offered an equally good view of the blonde as he marched over. She couldn’t deny he looked ridiculously handsome in his dark green dress robes, hair perfectly tamed, bow-tie still hanging loose around his neck. Of course, the scowl he was wearing and his apparent distaste for her general proximity was a tad off-putting.
“Stand still,” he muttered, gruffly, placing a warm hand on her waist and making goosebumps erupt all down her arms. He didn’t once look up or meet her gaze in the reflection as he set to work on her buttons, Rose’s entire body tingling with electricity each time his fingers brushed over freckled skin. She couldn’t help but stare at him though, wrestling internally with the desire to wring the git’s neck with both ends of his bow-tie, whilst all the while re-playing their last conversation together. The way he had stared at her, the intoxicating smell of his cologne mixed with whiskey and mud, the taste of him on her tongue- heady and sweet- as he’d brought his lips to hers-
Buggering Hell, she cursed, Louis was right. She was well and truly loved up on Scorpius Malfoy and he was choosing this mile-stone moment to be a complete and utter prick.
“Need a hand?” she muttered, cheeks hot, gesturing to his tie.
He shook his head quickly. “I’ll manage,” not looking up. Rose felt as if someone had punched her in the gut, her throat suddenly full of cotton wool. “How was your date with Macmillan?” he asked quietly, feigning indifference.
Rose frowned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I didn’t go.”
“Why not?” he asked, quickly.
“I’ve actually been rather pre-occupied lately,”
“Nothing too troubling I hope.”
“Oh, you know,” she muttered, off-hand, “just a complete git deciding to ignore me for a fortnight even though he’s supposed to be my best friend. Nothing important.”
She felt him tense at the snub, pausing over her last button. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”
“No, of course not. You just couldn’t quite manage to get your head out of your arse long enough to speak to me.”
Swearing under his breath, he suddenly grabbed Rose by the elbow, steering her quickly and un-noticed past the others and out into the Burrow’s front yard, both tripping over the usual mountain of Wellingtons on the top step. He slammed the door shut firmly behind them and rounded on her, eyes narrowed.
“Before you get too comfortable on your high horse, Weasley, I don’t seem to recall you trying that hard to talk to me either! And, for your information, I did come to your flat-,”
“I knew that was you!” she hissed, jabbing a finger at him.
“And I saw you dive behind that hideous couch of yours! I assumed you didn’t want to see me!”
“Is that why you’re being such a prat?” she shouted. “Because you think I don’t like you anymore? That’s moronic!”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well, there’s also the fact that your hair and that dress are burning my corneas beyond repair. That outfit would put anyone in a foul mood.”
“I could hex your balls off right now, Malfoy.”
“Hardly, your aim’s worse than Frank’s,”
She clenched her fists. “Merlin, I hate you.”
Scorpius sighed angrily, raking a hand through his hair and fixing her with a scowl. “Don’t say that.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Rose could feel her face growing hot, her chest already tight. “I thought we were into declaring all our feelings without thinking these days? Or don’t you remember your little alcohol fuelled confession?”
“Of course I remember,” he muttered.
“Is it true?”
He took a moment, dark greys eyes surveying hazel. “I don’t suppose there’s any point denying it now. The boggart’s well and truly out the cupboard, as they say.”
Rose let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, her stomach doing an uneasy little flip.
“For how long?” she asked, nervously.
Scorpius shrugged. “On and off since we were eighteen.”
“And now-?”
“On. Permanently.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she shouted, suddenly furious. Despite finally beginning to acknowledge her own desires, it was still a horrible feeling, discovering that three years of solid friendship had somehow all been a lie. “And why wait until you were blind drunk to just blurt it out like that?”
“Well, what did you expect me to do?” He glared at her. “Maybe if you weren’t always harping on about how you loathe commitment and think love and marriage is for fools, then you wouldn’t be quite so intimidating to potential suitors!”
“I’ve never used that exact phrase,”
He arched an eyebrow. “You wrote that in my parents’ anniversary card: ‘Dear Malfoys. Love and marriage is for fools. Sincerely, Rose.’ It was one of your more poetic attempts, I believe.”
“Anyone ever told you it’s the thought that counts?” she sulked.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re a twisted young woman, Weasley?”
She folded her arms and huffed, indignantly, turning away from him to stare at the crumbling, old broom-shed. This wasn’t right- this wasn’t something two people were supposed to argue about. When someone you adore tells you that they’re in love with you, Rose thought, getting annoyed probably wasn’t a typical reaction and yet here they were. She could feel that hot simmer bubbling away in her chest, the heavy pounding of her pulse in her ears and she knew it wasn’t just because she’d been ignored and left to stress for a few weeks.
She felt abandoned, like Scorpius had jumped ship on her and left her to fight for their friendship alone. Louis, for all his many inaccuracies, had been right about one thing- she was terrified of losing her best friend, and surely change meant just that? You couldn’t be best friends and lovers at the same time; no-one gets to have their cauldron cake and eat it too.
“I don’t understand,” Rose muttered, tersely, scuffing a satin shoe against the flagstones. “I thought you felt the same way? ‘Sacrifice at the altar,’ and all that.”
“Turns out its surprisingly easy to change your mind for the right person.” His voice was soft and flat, and made Rose feel as though she’d just swallowed a snitch. “Look, Weaslette, its simple. I’m in love with you and there’s not much I can do about that, I’m afraid. I just need to know how you feel.”
And wasn’t that just the million galleon question?
Rose sighed in frustration. “I feel like this isn’t the right time to be talking about this.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Scorpius groaned, angrily.
“We’re at a wedding, emotions are running high, that’s all,”
“Rose, it’s taken us almost five years to have this conversation!” He grabbed her hand as she marched back towards the house. “I couldn’t give a damn where we are, just tell me whether you feel the same? Do you love me, yes or no?”
“I can’t just-,”
“Rose, please!”
“Fine! Yes!” she hissed. “Yes, of course I do, you intolerable git! But that isn’t the point!”
“That is completely the point!” he laughed, incredulously.
“No, it isn’t!” she shoved him away. “Obviously I’m in love with you and yes, those four nights we’ve spent together were probably the best four nights of my life- oh, don’t look so smug.” She swatted at him as he began to smirk. “But that doesn’t mean I want to be with you!”
“Well, why the bloody Hell not?” he frowned.
“Because we’re friends, Malfoy! People aren’t allowed to be in love with their friends, it doesn’t work like that.”
Scorpius appeared to consider this for a moment. “Fine, then I officially de-friend you.”
Rose blinked at him, affronted. “Well… that’s not very nice,”
He shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Now, if you ever want to see me again, you’ll have to ask me out on a date.”
“Don’t be absurd-,”
“You’re right, we can probably skip that part. Do you prefer the term girlfriend, or significant other?”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” she dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to pretend she didn’t get a serious thrill out of either option. “Don’t you understand? If we were together we’d get sick of each other within a month, I’d do something annoying that you just couldn’t stand, or I’d start to get mad whenever you told one of your awful jokes-,”
He scoffed. “My jokes are not awful,”
She ignored him. “We’d end up resenting each other and then I wouldn’t just lose a boyfriend, I’d lose my best friend as well. As we are now, we’re perfect. When we fight I know we’ll always come back to each other but if that were to change…” her voice hitched as her eyes began to mist. “I- I can’t lose you, Scorpius, I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
Suddenly, his arms were around her, his fingers running through her auburn curls as he pulled her tightly against him. She buried her dampening cheeks in the crook of his neck, breathing in that wonderful scent, and clung to the front of his dress robes as if any moment he might just turn on his heel and flee.
“Rose,” he muttered, kissing her forehead lightly, “I know everything about you, I spend more time with you than I do by myself. If I haven’t been put off or got sick of you yet, I don’t think that’s likely to change just because I get to see you naked more often.” She made a muffled sound of protest. “Besides, I’d take that chance any day rather than let you date that sod, Macmillan. I’ve heard he doesn’t even wear anything under that kilt, the man’s totally barbaric!”
Rose couldn’t help but burst out laughing and peered up at him, eyes streaming. He grinned and brushed her hair away from mascara stained cheeks.
“There’s no-one else for me, Weaslette, you know that.”
Taking a deep breath, she stood up on her tip-toes and pressed her lips tentatively against his. Scorpius responded with fervour, squeezing her gently at the waist as he kissed her back earnestly and insistently, till he had her mewing in his arms. It was so familiar and yet so foreign all at once and Rose felt her entire core melt and trickle down her spine, pooling in her navel and dripping down into her toes.
Reluctantly, she tore herself away, laughing nervously as she tried to hide her rosy cheeks. “If we’re going to do this properly, you have to promise me one thing?”
He offered her a lipstick-smudged grin. “Go on?”
She fixed him with a firm stare. “Never, ever, ask me to marry you.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“Deadly. And believe me, you’ll want to, but you’ll have to fight the urge because those are my terms. Take them or leave them."
Scorpius eyed her in amusement for a moment and sighed. “I’ll take you anyway I can, Weasley. You have my word.” And then he set about snogging her silly in her grandparents’ garden.
~
Over the following two years, Scorpius broke his promise seven times. Eventually, Rose proposed to him, just to shut him up. Or so she says…
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