"It Sometimes Happens" - A Gift for i_am_girlfriday
Title: It Sometimes Happens
Author: liliths_requiem
Gift For: i_am_girlfriday
Summary: Ten years in the life of Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, and the disjointed way in which they got together.
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-graphic sex
Word Count: (if applicable) 4476
Lyrics/Quotes Used:
"It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before." Persuasion, Jane Austen
“I see you left a mark / Up and down my skin / I don't know where I end /
And where you begin” -- "Discipline," Nine Inch Nails
A/N: I really hope this fits your taste, i_am_girlfriday. I really tried something new here, in not giving a lot of backstory and leaving it up to the imagination. I think it worked, but please let me know.
Seventeen.
“Rosie, please, would you sit still for ten seconds and let me braid your hair?” at seventeen, Rose Weasley still couldn’t sit still for longer than a few moments. Her mother would mutter things like “Attention Deficit Hyper-Activity Disorder” under her breath, to which her father would simply roll his eyes and reply “Wizards don’t get stupid muggle mental disorders, Mione.” Rosie always found that amusing, because she was pretty sure ADHD didn’t discriminate between magical and non-magical brains, but she accepted her father’s justification because it meant she wouldn’t have to take any addictive muggle pills or foul smelling magical potions.
It was the morning of her cousin, Molly’s, wedding, and everything around them was working like a well-oiled machine. Molly was one of the few members of her family not sorted into Gryffindor on principle. She was a Ravenclaw straight to the core, and so her wedding had been planned a full year and advanced with even the tiniest details, such as the existence of a piccolo player in the band, fully analyzed and cared for. Rosie had been honored when asked to be a bridesmaid, but she probably shouldn’t have been. Despite the four year age gap between the two girls, Rosie was most like her older cousin in temperament and they got on with each other much better than they did most other members of their family.
“Mother, I really don’t see why I can’t just charm it into behaving,” Rosie replied, pulling out her wand. Finally being able to do magic outside of school was the best Christmas present she could have gotten, even if it had come two days late. She was one of the oldest members of her class, with her birthday falling on December twenty-seventh, and she was more than ready to prance around the Burrow’s backyard, showing off her legality to Albus and Louis, who were both in attendance and both unable to perform any magic at all.
“Because it’s just hair, Rose, and you have to learn that you cannot depend on magic for everything,” that was her mother’s go to response for just about everything. Being muggle-born, Hermione Granger-Weasley never had gotten the hang of being completely dependent on magic, as most of her in-laws so obviously were. Her independence from her wand often drove her immediate family nuts, as Ron was constantly reminding her that she was a witch, Hugo didn’t do his first bit of magic until he was ten, and Rosie never quite understood why Muggle Studies was such a vital class, considering she basically lived with one.
It took another hour, and then they had to rush to get out into the yard before the rest of the wedding guests arrived. Rose was escorted by her cousin James, and after they walked down the aisle together, she stood next to the archway her grandfather had built for Molly and Andrew, her long red curls falling in ringlets down her back to where they just touched the low-cut, off the shoulder blue robes her father had been none-too-happy about his Rosie wearing. But she was seventeen now, and she desperately wanted to look grown up and have people stop classifying her as the bookworm.
Lucy followed her down the aisle, her short brown hair falling just into her eyes as she looked adoringly upon her escort for the walk, her fiancé of six months and Molly’s best friend, Sol. Behind them walked the bride and her father. Molly looked like the earliest paintings of Aphrodite, with long burnt brown hair and eyes the color of the sea. Uncle Percy walked down the aisle with his chest puffed out and pride written on every inch of his features. Rosie heard James snort from her left side and she smiled indulgingly at him. James and she had been inseparable for years, he was the yang to her yin, and while he could snort at weddings, she kept him in line with a patronizing smile and a roll of her eyes.
As the eye roll came full circle, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd that should not have been there at all. Watching as Scorpius Malfoy smiled into the sun and almost looked happy that Andrew and Molly were getting married, Rosie wondered if he had been invited. She didn’t know the entire guest list; after all, as Andrew had quite a large family as well, but she didn’t think Scorpius was a blood relation to the Bell family. She tore her eyes away from his face just as he seemed to notice she was watching and forced her attention back to the bride and groom.
Her relationship with Scorpius was a strange one. They were the best of friends, despite being in different houses, and Rosie talked to him more than she talked to anyone, other than James. However, they often stayed out of touch during winter and Summer Holidays, as Scorpius was constantly traveling around with his parents and he wasn’t much of a letter writer, anyway. Sometimes, they would go weeks without talking to each other and then run into each other at Diagon Alley and all would be alright again. And at night, when he couldn’t sleep, she would sneak out of her dormitory and meet him in the Astronomy Tower. They were as close as teenage boys and girls can be without being more than friends, and Rose wanted to keep that balance in her life, even if looking at him often threw her off balance and made it hard to breathe.
The ceremony was beautiful and the vows were recited perfectly. Rosie wondered if Molly realized she would grow bored of Andrew long before she had the chance to really love him. Shrugging off the thought, she moved to the back of the garden, where the rest of her family was already dancing and laughing and having a good time. Albus was there with his girlfriend of three years, Miss Eden Flint. If ever there were a couple that could last forever, it would be the two of them. Not even being separated along House lines had stopped the two of them from falling madly in love at the age of thirteen. Sometimes, Rosie found their relationship to be so sweet it made her sick.
She was about to go over to Lucy and talk about how absolutely boring Andrew was when was handed a glass of something clear and sparkling. Looking up, she smiled at James and Deanna, who had just made their way over to her. “You look sullen, cousin,” James remarked, smiling at his own ability to rhyme, “Dee and I were just going to dance; maybe you should go as Scorpius if he’d honor you with one.” Despite his early prejudices against Scorpius, James had eventually come around to liking the younger boy after Scorpius had taken the fall for one of James’ pranks. It was a pointless gag on a few Hufflepuffs, which only resulted in detention for one Saturday, but it was the Saturday of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. Scorpius happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but instead of ratting out James and saving his own arse, the blond Slytherin had taken the blame upon himself. That was nine months ago, in the spring of fifth year. Ever since then, James had encouraged Rose’s friendship with Scorpius, and, upon realizing that Rose wanted something more than that, had supported her attempts to bring the relationship to the next level, as well.
Rosie pulled her robes back into perfect position, swallowed the vodka in one gulp, and made her way over to where Scorpius was sitting with Dominique and Kaleigh. Dominique was the only Weasley ever sorted into Slytherin, and Kaleigh was her partner of three years. Rosie always found it funny that most of the family took Dominique’s sexuality much better than they took the house she was sorted in to. Being only two years older than Scorpius, Dominique had taken an instant liking to the boy when he was a first year. It was she who introduced him to Rosie, back when they had potions together. A part of Rosie would always be grateful to Dominique for that, whether she ever got Scorpius’ heart or not.
“Hey Scorp,” she greeted, holding out her hand, “I know these two women are much more fascinating than me, but I promise I dance better.” She smiled at him warmly, but there was obvious apprehension in her eyes. He smiled back at her and grabbed her hand with his.
“I promise you are more fascinating than they,” he told her, keeping his tone light and mocking, “All these two want to talk about is hot lesbian sex and Quidditch, neither of which am I even remotely interested in, being a hot-blooded, sixteen year old man.” Dominique laughed at that and Kaleigh blushed, but Rosie missed both reactions, as Scorpius was already pulling her out to the dance floor, where the two of them would spend the rest of the night, twirling around each other like two characters out of a fairy tale.
::::::
Nineteen
Despite his desire to keep Rose Weasley in his arms forever, Scorpius had left that night with barely a goodbye thrown her way. He continued their easy friendship through Hogwarts, but then left for Sicily the night after graduation to take on a potions’ apprenticeship there. He and Rosie kept in touch, as much as he knew how to, but for the most part, the last year had been spent away from her, and yet he couldn’t get her off his mind.
Scorpius Malfoy was a practical man. He was not given to fits of fancy, nor did he believe in fairy tales and dreams come true. He understood that life for the son of a Death Eater was not an easy one, and that he would have to work every day for the rest of his life trying to prove to the world that he was not his father. That was not the type of life Rose Weasley deserved. She was the daughter of the smartest witch in the world and the bravest man Scorpius had ever heard of. There was no way in every prison cell in Azkaban that Scorpius would ever ask her to subject herself to a life of ridicule and mistrust, especially since he was pretty sure she would have said yes to him, no matter what, damn the consequences.
So he ran off to Sicily while she stayed close to home and took a job as an Undersecretary in the Rights of Non-Wizarding Magical Beings Bureau, which was originally created by her mother almost twenty years ago. She wrote once a week and he wrote once a month, and yet she still didn’t pester him to come home or to write more or even to admit that there was something real between them. She simply prattled on and on about work, Albus and Eden’s upcoming wedding, James’ inability to ask Deanna to marry him, and an interesting dance which included Teddy Lupin, his girlfriend of three years Victoire Weasley, and Lily Luna Potter, who seemed quite ready, and able, to take Teddy’s heart for her own.
For twelve months, Scorpius worked day and night to learn the art of potion making. It was a late June night when his master, Francisco de Medici (“No boy, there’s no relation. Do I look like a blood thirsty animal?” To which Scorpius made no reply), walked into the Apothecary and handed him his official papers.
“Already?” Scorpius had asked, doubt evident in his voice. He had always known he was a quick study, but twelve months was almost half the amount of time an apprenticeship should have taken. Francisco simply nodded his head.
“There is nothing more you can learn from me about potions, but there is one more thing you can learn from me about the heart,” his accent was a thick, southern Italian drawl that made him sound like he was singing a ballade even when he was angry. “If you love her, you must tell her this.”
Scorpius walked out of the Apothecary then, taking his papers and not looking back. There were certain things he preferred to hide from the world, and if his boss could tell he was in love, there was no telling how easy it would be for Rose to figure that out.
:::::::
Twenty-One
It took Scorpius two more years to find his way home, but Rose was waiting for him on his doorstep when he arrived. He was carrying treasures from around the world, and potions ingredients to rare he could have made a fortune on the Black Market. Rose chose not to point that out, however, as Scorpius was a stickler for rules and wouldn’t have even considered selling anything on the Black Market, let alone his precious potions.
Upon seeing Rosie, he abruptly dropped everything he was carrying, and if hadn’t been for his quick wand work, it would have all fallen to the floor. “Nice to see you too, Malfoy,” she greeted, taking a few of his bags. “I was wondering when you’d get back. Dominique said you were meeting her for breakfast in the morning, so I figured it would be some time tonight.”
“Rosie,” he began, placing his trunk on the floor, “I was going to write you as soon as I got home-“
“Save it,” Rosie replied, holding up her hand in indignation carefully masked with nonchalance, “For someone who cares. Two years, you go gallivanting around the world and the most you spare for your best friend is six measly letters? Well that’s fine, you can go back to Russia, or Australia, or wherever it is you’ve just come from, and you can bloody well stay there. Because I am through, Malfoy. I am through waiting for you to come around and admit that we have something worth fighting for. I never took myself for a real Gryffindor, but right now I’m bloody acting like one. You don’t get to lead me on for ten years and then tell me, through my cousin, mind you, that you’re bloody engaged!”
“Rose please-“
“No. No more begging, no more asking. Fuck you, Malfoy.” By this point, she was in tears. She could see her dignity scattered across the floor and she desperately wanted to bend down and scoop it into a presentable looking pile. Instead, she stood there, shaking, wanting to leave but not quite remembering how to move.
So Scorpius moved for her. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her close. He tilted her chin back, almost by sheer force of will, and pressed his lips against hers with so much need that she felt like a drug. She kissed back, through the snot and the tears, looking for an answer between his lips and his tongue. The only response she drew, however, was the shedding of their robes.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as his lips latched on to her right nipple and her fingernails scrapped along his collarbone.
“I don’t know,” the words came out tight against the valley of her breast and she let out a breathy moan. He made his way down her body with his teeth, falling to his knees in a form of bestial worship that she never thought he could be reduced to. She instinctively wrapped her left foot around his head as he probed into her with his tongue, lapping like a starved wolf.
She fell to the floor a few moments later, her right leg giving out and Scorpius only just breaking her fall. He moved back up her body and settled comfortable between her legs. “What are we doing?” he asked her, looking into her piercing blue eyes for an answer he wasn’t sure he’d find.
“I don’t know,” was the breathy reply, and then she arched up against him and he pushed into her. He pushed forward as she did, and they both let out a low, desperate moan, because it shouldn’t have felt that good. Scorpius’ fiancée was arriving in the morning and Rose was not about to play second-best to anyone. But in that moment, there was only the two of them, moving together awkwardly but desperately, like waves in a storm. They crashed along the shore with a final groan of ecstasy, combing in the silence of the empty home to sound more like a prayer to God than a sound of pleasure.
They fell asleep on the hardwood floor, wrapped up in each other with sweat and lust acting as their only blankets from the cold. Rose woke first, carefully extricated herself from the man she knew she loved, and left without a word. If he wanted to chase her, then he would, but a part of her doubted she’d ever see him again.
When Scorpius woke, two hours later, there was only the shadow of his Rosie on the floor and the lingering scent of her cum on his hands. He pushed himself up with more effort than he had ever put into anything and forced himself to get ready for Heather’s arrival. But as he climbed into the shower that hadn’t been used for years, he remembered the feeling of her lips on his and he knew that her body would haunt him forever.
:::::::::
Twenty-Three
“May I please have nine of those objects over there?” Asteria Malfoy asked as she neared the front of the line. It was a busy day at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, and Mrs. Malfoy had been waiting for almost an hour on a line that stretched out the door. She was shopping for her youngest nephew’s seventeenth birthday. Jiminy was her favorite nephew, even if she was Jasper’s godmother, and so she trekked into the unknown aisles of WWW because it was Jiminy’s favorite store.
“The Gaul-Buster 3000?” Ron Weasley asked, trying to keep his voice civil. He knew Mrs. Malfoy on sight, as he had met her twice at Hogwarts because of some trivial prank his Rosie and her son had been involved in together. He had nothing against her, specifically, and he had even heard she was a member of Dumbledore’s Army while he, Harry, and Hermione had been off saving the world. But after what Draco had done to his wife and Scorpius had done to his daughter, anyone associated with either of the Malfoy men automatically fell on to his shite list.
“Yes, please,” Asteria replied, trying not to wrinkle her noise at the name. She, too, recognized Ronald Weasley, and the last thing she wanted was to make a scene. She followed him over to the display and watched as she shrunk nine gigantic gun-shaped objects into a small shopping bag. “Thank you,” her voice came out softly, so as to not sound mocking.
“You’re welcome,” Ron replied, stepping back over to the cash register, “That will be fifty-three galleons, please.” Asteria shuffled through her purse calmly, trying not to admit to the tension in the room. But as she reached into her wallet, a burly man knocked into her, and her change went flying across the countertop and floor.
“Oh bloody fuck,” she cursed, her voice still perfectly monotone despite the emotion in her vocabulary. “Would you help?” she asked Ron, who looked like he had no intention to do so. After pausing for a moment, he, too, leaned down and started to gather the various gold, bronze, and silver coins that had fallen haphazardly around the counter.
“I’m sorry,” Asteria said, as she finally found the last of the coins, “For everything. Not for the coins, though I am sorry for that. But for Draco. And for Scorpius.” She bit back the last word, as if she had said too much, but Ron only handed over the last galleon and reminded her of the price.
As she gathered her bag and her purse, Ron grabbed her hand. “I hate your son, more than I hate his father, because he broke my Rosie’s heart. And if you ever come back into this store, I will forcibly remove you. But my wife is over there,” he allowed his eyes to roam to the corner, “and she’ll kill me if I touch you. So get the bloody fuck out of this room and never come back again.”
Hiding her shaken nerves, Asteria quickly made her way to the door. She was meeting her son and his fiancée for lunch to discuss wedding plans. She wondered when, after two years of waiting, they would stop planning and actually get on with it. But then, if Rosie had half of her father’s passion and loyalty, maybe that wedding would never happen.
::::::::::
Twenty-Five
The first birthday party for Fabian Potter was one of the most talked about affairs throughout the wizarding world in the year 2031. Everyone who was anyone was invited, and if you didn’t show it was the ultimate form of social suicide. Eden Flint-Potter, after all, was the most beloved woman in all of England, and her husband knew how to work the press better than just about anyone. The next morning, there were news articles across the globe about that event, which was understandable, considering the amount of celebrities there and-to a lesser extent-the fact that baby Fabian had not been expected to live through his first night, let alone an entire year.
Rose arrived in style. Her robe was brand new, with small jewels sewn in like the ancient queens of far away times. Her hair was swept back in a muggle hair band, with long braids lining her scalp. She walked in with a very handsome-and obviously gay-escort who abandoned her on spot for a cute waiter, and she almost broke a heel during her first dance of the night-which happened to be with her cousin. Needless to say, after the first hour, she was more than ready to go home.
Scorpius arrived alone. Of all the gossip that would make it into the witch’s magazines come morning, this was a core topic. His fiancée, one Heather Gold of America, had left him three days before. According to Witches’ Weekly, Heather left because Scorpius refused to settle down, despite their two-year-long engagement. After spending the first hour being hounded by the press, during which one reporter asked if Heather left because she found out about the Malfoys’ pasts, the poor blond was more than ready to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a Firewhiskey bottle and leave the party before eleven.
And then he saw Rose.
And he remembered why, exactly, Heather had left him.
Beyond inebriated and relying solely on liquid courage, Scorpius made his way over to the scarlet-haired witch. He came up behind her and slurred into her hair, “You know, Miss Weasley, I do believe I am in love with you.” Rose turned around to face him, her eyes wide, and flashes of both love and anger stirring within them. “In fact, I’m sure of it. See? My fiancée was too, which is why she left. She said, said, she said,” he steadied himself against a table, “That I needed to commit to someone that I loved. Do you know who that is?”
He paused, waiting for a reply, but Rose seemed shocked into silence, “It’s you,” he then poked her with his long bony index finger, right between the breasts. “I love you, Rose Weasley.”
It took less than a minute for Rose to collect herself and run far away from the Burrow. She kicked off her heels determinedly and rushed through the high grass of the fields. Scorpius gazed wide-eyed after her, completely unsure as to what it was that had just happened. Noticing this, James took pity on him and stopped dancing with Deanna long enough to place a sobering charm on his cousin’s confused friend.
“Oh bloody fuck,” Scorpius cursed, with just as little emotion in his voice as his mother had, “Did I really just do that?”
::::::::
Twenty-Seven
Rose stubbornly avoided Scorpius for another two years. She threw herself into her work, rising up the corporate ladder with the same easy grace as her mother, until she was the chair of the Horned Creatures’ Rights Subcommittee. She moved out of the flat she shared with James on the same day that Deanna moved in, and took a flat down the hall, so that she was still close enough to stop by and nag whenever she was in a bad mood-or cook for the undomesticated couple whenever they got tired of takeout.
It wasn’t until James’ wedding, ten years later than everyone had expected it to take place, that Rose and Scorpius saw each other again. He was there as Dominique’s date, as Kaleigh was out of town on an Auror assignment. Scorpius looked just as good as he had two years ago, when he professed his love for her in a drunken stupor. She tried not to notice him the entire night, but as the last song began to play, he seemed to have finally cornered her.
“Dance with me?” and it wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a demand. It was as if the words had been scripted, and he knew she would say yes. As if he were just following a play written before the night ever began. She moved to stand before she allowed herself to get angry and carefully placed her hand in his.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, his silver eyes boring in to hers, like tornado through the ocean. “I do love you.”
She shook her head, just slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. “Don’t tell me that,” she replied, “not just yet. I want to start from the beginning, all over again.”
She was tired, and bitter, and she wanted her best friend back. She had spent the last ten years wanting him to be more than what he was, but now she knew that the man she needed was the man Scorpius had been all along. “Just tell me that you’re sorry, and that we can start again.”
Scorpius smiled at her, and she realized they were the last ones dancing, “I’m sorry,” he said, the conviction in his voice so easily honest, “and we can start again.”
He kissed her then, and the last ten years slipped away, leaving her more beautiful than she had been at seventeen, but still the same woman she had always been. She kissed him back softly, chastely, and they fell together like soft waves along the shore, dancing with each other and knowing that they had finally figured out where, and how, they belonged.
Author: liliths_requiem
Gift For: i_am_girlfriday
Summary: Ten years in the life of Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, and the disjointed way in which they got together.
Rating: R
Warnings: Non-graphic sex
Word Count: (if applicable) 4476
Lyrics/Quotes Used:
"It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before." Persuasion, Jane Austen
“I see you left a mark / Up and down my skin / I don't know where I end /
And where you begin” -- "Discipline," Nine Inch Nails
A/N: I really hope this fits your taste, i_am_girlfriday. I really tried something new here, in not giving a lot of backstory and leaving it up to the imagination. I think it worked, but please let me know.
Seventeen.
“Rosie, please, would you sit still for ten seconds and let me braid your hair?” at seventeen, Rose Weasley still couldn’t sit still for longer than a few moments. Her mother would mutter things like “Attention Deficit Hyper-Activity Disorder” under her breath, to which her father would simply roll his eyes and reply “Wizards don’t get stupid muggle mental disorders, Mione.” Rosie always found that amusing, because she was pretty sure ADHD didn’t discriminate between magical and non-magical brains, but she accepted her father’s justification because it meant she wouldn’t have to take any addictive muggle pills or foul smelling magical potions.
It was the morning of her cousin, Molly’s, wedding, and everything around them was working like a well-oiled machine. Molly was one of the few members of her family not sorted into Gryffindor on principle. She was a Ravenclaw straight to the core, and so her wedding had been planned a full year and advanced with even the tiniest details, such as the existence of a piccolo player in the band, fully analyzed and cared for. Rosie had been honored when asked to be a bridesmaid, but she probably shouldn’t have been. Despite the four year age gap between the two girls, Rosie was most like her older cousin in temperament and they got on with each other much better than they did most other members of their family.
“Mother, I really don’t see why I can’t just charm it into behaving,” Rosie replied, pulling out her wand. Finally being able to do magic outside of school was the best Christmas present she could have gotten, even if it had come two days late. She was one of the oldest members of her class, with her birthday falling on December twenty-seventh, and she was more than ready to prance around the Burrow’s backyard, showing off her legality to Albus and Louis, who were both in attendance and both unable to perform any magic at all.
“Because it’s just hair, Rose, and you have to learn that you cannot depend on magic for everything,” that was her mother’s go to response for just about everything. Being muggle-born, Hermione Granger-Weasley never had gotten the hang of being completely dependent on magic, as most of her in-laws so obviously were. Her independence from her wand often drove her immediate family nuts, as Ron was constantly reminding her that she was a witch, Hugo didn’t do his first bit of magic until he was ten, and Rosie never quite understood why Muggle Studies was such a vital class, considering she basically lived with one.
It took another hour, and then they had to rush to get out into the yard before the rest of the wedding guests arrived. Rose was escorted by her cousin James, and after they walked down the aisle together, she stood next to the archway her grandfather had built for Molly and Andrew, her long red curls falling in ringlets down her back to where they just touched the low-cut, off the shoulder blue robes her father had been none-too-happy about his Rosie wearing. But she was seventeen now, and she desperately wanted to look grown up and have people stop classifying her as the bookworm.
Lucy followed her down the aisle, her short brown hair falling just into her eyes as she looked adoringly upon her escort for the walk, her fiancé of six months and Molly’s best friend, Sol. Behind them walked the bride and her father. Molly looked like the earliest paintings of Aphrodite, with long burnt brown hair and eyes the color of the sea. Uncle Percy walked down the aisle with his chest puffed out and pride written on every inch of his features. Rosie heard James snort from her left side and she smiled indulgingly at him. James and she had been inseparable for years, he was the yang to her yin, and while he could snort at weddings, she kept him in line with a patronizing smile and a roll of her eyes.
As the eye roll came full circle, she noticed a familiar face in the crowd that should not have been there at all. Watching as Scorpius Malfoy smiled into the sun and almost looked happy that Andrew and Molly were getting married, Rosie wondered if he had been invited. She didn’t know the entire guest list; after all, as Andrew had quite a large family as well, but she didn’t think Scorpius was a blood relation to the Bell family. She tore her eyes away from his face just as he seemed to notice she was watching and forced her attention back to the bride and groom.
Her relationship with Scorpius was a strange one. They were the best of friends, despite being in different houses, and Rosie talked to him more than she talked to anyone, other than James. However, they often stayed out of touch during winter and Summer Holidays, as Scorpius was constantly traveling around with his parents and he wasn’t much of a letter writer, anyway. Sometimes, they would go weeks without talking to each other and then run into each other at Diagon Alley and all would be alright again. And at night, when he couldn’t sleep, she would sneak out of her dormitory and meet him in the Astronomy Tower. They were as close as teenage boys and girls can be without being more than friends, and Rose wanted to keep that balance in her life, even if looking at him often threw her off balance and made it hard to breathe.
The ceremony was beautiful and the vows were recited perfectly. Rosie wondered if Molly realized she would grow bored of Andrew long before she had the chance to really love him. Shrugging off the thought, she moved to the back of the garden, where the rest of her family was already dancing and laughing and having a good time. Albus was there with his girlfriend of three years, Miss Eden Flint. If ever there were a couple that could last forever, it would be the two of them. Not even being separated along House lines had stopped the two of them from falling madly in love at the age of thirteen. Sometimes, Rosie found their relationship to be so sweet it made her sick.
She was about to go over to Lucy and talk about how absolutely boring Andrew was when was handed a glass of something clear and sparkling. Looking up, she smiled at James and Deanna, who had just made their way over to her. “You look sullen, cousin,” James remarked, smiling at his own ability to rhyme, “Dee and I were just going to dance; maybe you should go as Scorpius if he’d honor you with one.” Despite his early prejudices against Scorpius, James had eventually come around to liking the younger boy after Scorpius had taken the fall for one of James’ pranks. It was a pointless gag on a few Hufflepuffs, which only resulted in detention for one Saturday, but it was the Saturday of the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match. Scorpius happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, but instead of ratting out James and saving his own arse, the blond Slytherin had taken the blame upon himself. That was nine months ago, in the spring of fifth year. Ever since then, James had encouraged Rose’s friendship with Scorpius, and, upon realizing that Rose wanted something more than that, had supported her attempts to bring the relationship to the next level, as well.
Rosie pulled her robes back into perfect position, swallowed the vodka in one gulp, and made her way over to where Scorpius was sitting with Dominique and Kaleigh. Dominique was the only Weasley ever sorted into Slytherin, and Kaleigh was her partner of three years. Rosie always found it funny that most of the family took Dominique’s sexuality much better than they took the house she was sorted in to. Being only two years older than Scorpius, Dominique had taken an instant liking to the boy when he was a first year. It was she who introduced him to Rosie, back when they had potions together. A part of Rosie would always be grateful to Dominique for that, whether she ever got Scorpius’ heart or not.
“Hey Scorp,” she greeted, holding out her hand, “I know these two women are much more fascinating than me, but I promise I dance better.” She smiled at him warmly, but there was obvious apprehension in her eyes. He smiled back at her and grabbed her hand with his.
“I promise you are more fascinating than they,” he told her, keeping his tone light and mocking, “All these two want to talk about is hot lesbian sex and Quidditch, neither of which am I even remotely interested in, being a hot-blooded, sixteen year old man.” Dominique laughed at that and Kaleigh blushed, but Rosie missed both reactions, as Scorpius was already pulling her out to the dance floor, where the two of them would spend the rest of the night, twirling around each other like two characters out of a fairy tale.
::::::
Nineteen
Despite his desire to keep Rose Weasley in his arms forever, Scorpius had left that night with barely a goodbye thrown her way. He continued their easy friendship through Hogwarts, but then left for Sicily the night after graduation to take on a potions’ apprenticeship there. He and Rosie kept in touch, as much as he knew how to, but for the most part, the last year had been spent away from her, and yet he couldn’t get her off his mind.
Scorpius Malfoy was a practical man. He was not given to fits of fancy, nor did he believe in fairy tales and dreams come true. He understood that life for the son of a Death Eater was not an easy one, and that he would have to work every day for the rest of his life trying to prove to the world that he was not his father. That was not the type of life Rose Weasley deserved. She was the daughter of the smartest witch in the world and the bravest man Scorpius had ever heard of. There was no way in every prison cell in Azkaban that Scorpius would ever ask her to subject herself to a life of ridicule and mistrust, especially since he was pretty sure she would have said yes to him, no matter what, damn the consequences.
So he ran off to Sicily while she stayed close to home and took a job as an Undersecretary in the Rights of Non-Wizarding Magical Beings Bureau, which was originally created by her mother almost twenty years ago. She wrote once a week and he wrote once a month, and yet she still didn’t pester him to come home or to write more or even to admit that there was something real between them. She simply prattled on and on about work, Albus and Eden’s upcoming wedding, James’ inability to ask Deanna to marry him, and an interesting dance which included Teddy Lupin, his girlfriend of three years Victoire Weasley, and Lily Luna Potter, who seemed quite ready, and able, to take Teddy’s heart for her own.
For twelve months, Scorpius worked day and night to learn the art of potion making. It was a late June night when his master, Francisco de Medici (“No boy, there’s no relation. Do I look like a blood thirsty animal?” To which Scorpius made no reply), walked into the Apothecary and handed him his official papers.
“Already?” Scorpius had asked, doubt evident in his voice. He had always known he was a quick study, but twelve months was almost half the amount of time an apprenticeship should have taken. Francisco simply nodded his head.
“There is nothing more you can learn from me about potions, but there is one more thing you can learn from me about the heart,” his accent was a thick, southern Italian drawl that made him sound like he was singing a ballade even when he was angry. “If you love her, you must tell her this.”
Scorpius walked out of the Apothecary then, taking his papers and not looking back. There were certain things he preferred to hide from the world, and if his boss could tell he was in love, there was no telling how easy it would be for Rose to figure that out.
:::::::
Twenty-One
It took Scorpius two more years to find his way home, but Rose was waiting for him on his doorstep when he arrived. He was carrying treasures from around the world, and potions ingredients to rare he could have made a fortune on the Black Market. Rose chose not to point that out, however, as Scorpius was a stickler for rules and wouldn’t have even considered selling anything on the Black Market, let alone his precious potions.
Upon seeing Rosie, he abruptly dropped everything he was carrying, and if hadn’t been for his quick wand work, it would have all fallen to the floor. “Nice to see you too, Malfoy,” she greeted, taking a few of his bags. “I was wondering when you’d get back. Dominique said you were meeting her for breakfast in the morning, so I figured it would be some time tonight.”
“Rosie,” he began, placing his trunk on the floor, “I was going to write you as soon as I got home-“
“Save it,” Rosie replied, holding up her hand in indignation carefully masked with nonchalance, “For someone who cares. Two years, you go gallivanting around the world and the most you spare for your best friend is six measly letters? Well that’s fine, you can go back to Russia, or Australia, or wherever it is you’ve just come from, and you can bloody well stay there. Because I am through, Malfoy. I am through waiting for you to come around and admit that we have something worth fighting for. I never took myself for a real Gryffindor, but right now I’m bloody acting like one. You don’t get to lead me on for ten years and then tell me, through my cousin, mind you, that you’re bloody engaged!”
“Rose please-“
“No. No more begging, no more asking. Fuck you, Malfoy.” By this point, she was in tears. She could see her dignity scattered across the floor and she desperately wanted to bend down and scoop it into a presentable looking pile. Instead, she stood there, shaking, wanting to leave but not quite remembering how to move.
So Scorpius moved for her. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her close. He tilted her chin back, almost by sheer force of will, and pressed his lips against hers with so much need that she felt like a drug. She kissed back, through the snot and the tears, looking for an answer between his lips and his tongue. The only response she drew, however, was the shedding of their robes.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as his lips latched on to her right nipple and her fingernails scrapped along his collarbone.
“I don’t know,” the words came out tight against the valley of her breast and she let out a breathy moan. He made his way down her body with his teeth, falling to his knees in a form of bestial worship that she never thought he could be reduced to. She instinctively wrapped her left foot around his head as he probed into her with his tongue, lapping like a starved wolf.
She fell to the floor a few moments later, her right leg giving out and Scorpius only just breaking her fall. He moved back up her body and settled comfortable between her legs. “What are we doing?” he asked her, looking into her piercing blue eyes for an answer he wasn’t sure he’d find.
“I don’t know,” was the breathy reply, and then she arched up against him and he pushed into her. He pushed forward as she did, and they both let out a low, desperate moan, because it shouldn’t have felt that good. Scorpius’ fiancée was arriving in the morning and Rose was not about to play second-best to anyone. But in that moment, there was only the two of them, moving together awkwardly but desperately, like waves in a storm. They crashed along the shore with a final groan of ecstasy, combing in the silence of the empty home to sound more like a prayer to God than a sound of pleasure.
They fell asleep on the hardwood floor, wrapped up in each other with sweat and lust acting as their only blankets from the cold. Rose woke first, carefully extricated herself from the man she knew she loved, and left without a word. If he wanted to chase her, then he would, but a part of her doubted she’d ever see him again.
When Scorpius woke, two hours later, there was only the shadow of his Rosie on the floor and the lingering scent of her cum on his hands. He pushed himself up with more effort than he had ever put into anything and forced himself to get ready for Heather’s arrival. But as he climbed into the shower that hadn’t been used for years, he remembered the feeling of her lips on his and he knew that her body would haunt him forever.
:::::::::
Twenty-Three
“May I please have nine of those objects over there?” Asteria Malfoy asked as she neared the front of the line. It was a busy day at Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes, and Mrs. Malfoy had been waiting for almost an hour on a line that stretched out the door. She was shopping for her youngest nephew’s seventeenth birthday. Jiminy was her favorite nephew, even if she was Jasper’s godmother, and so she trekked into the unknown aisles of WWW because it was Jiminy’s favorite store.
“The Gaul-Buster 3000?” Ron Weasley asked, trying to keep his voice civil. He knew Mrs. Malfoy on sight, as he had met her twice at Hogwarts because of some trivial prank his Rosie and her son had been involved in together. He had nothing against her, specifically, and he had even heard she was a member of Dumbledore’s Army while he, Harry, and Hermione had been off saving the world. But after what Draco had done to his wife and Scorpius had done to his daughter, anyone associated with either of the Malfoy men automatically fell on to his shite list.
“Yes, please,” Asteria replied, trying not to wrinkle her noise at the name. She, too, recognized Ronald Weasley, and the last thing she wanted was to make a scene. She followed him over to the display and watched as she shrunk nine gigantic gun-shaped objects into a small shopping bag. “Thank you,” her voice came out softly, so as to not sound mocking.
“You’re welcome,” Ron replied, stepping back over to the cash register, “That will be fifty-three galleons, please.” Asteria shuffled through her purse calmly, trying not to admit to the tension in the room. But as she reached into her wallet, a burly man knocked into her, and her change went flying across the countertop and floor.
“Oh bloody fuck,” she cursed, her voice still perfectly monotone despite the emotion in her vocabulary. “Would you help?” she asked Ron, who looked like he had no intention to do so. After pausing for a moment, he, too, leaned down and started to gather the various gold, bronze, and silver coins that had fallen haphazardly around the counter.
“I’m sorry,” Asteria said, as she finally found the last of the coins, “For everything. Not for the coins, though I am sorry for that. But for Draco. And for Scorpius.” She bit back the last word, as if she had said too much, but Ron only handed over the last galleon and reminded her of the price.
As she gathered her bag and her purse, Ron grabbed her hand. “I hate your son, more than I hate his father, because he broke my Rosie’s heart. And if you ever come back into this store, I will forcibly remove you. But my wife is over there,” he allowed his eyes to roam to the corner, “and she’ll kill me if I touch you. So get the bloody fuck out of this room and never come back again.”
Hiding her shaken nerves, Asteria quickly made her way to the door. She was meeting her son and his fiancée for lunch to discuss wedding plans. She wondered when, after two years of waiting, they would stop planning and actually get on with it. But then, if Rosie had half of her father’s passion and loyalty, maybe that wedding would never happen.
::::::::::
Twenty-Five
The first birthday party for Fabian Potter was one of the most talked about affairs throughout the wizarding world in the year 2031. Everyone who was anyone was invited, and if you didn’t show it was the ultimate form of social suicide. Eden Flint-Potter, after all, was the most beloved woman in all of England, and her husband knew how to work the press better than just about anyone. The next morning, there were news articles across the globe about that event, which was understandable, considering the amount of celebrities there and-to a lesser extent-the fact that baby Fabian had not been expected to live through his first night, let alone an entire year.
Rose arrived in style. Her robe was brand new, with small jewels sewn in like the ancient queens of far away times. Her hair was swept back in a muggle hair band, with long braids lining her scalp. She walked in with a very handsome-and obviously gay-escort who abandoned her on spot for a cute waiter, and she almost broke a heel during her first dance of the night-which happened to be with her cousin. Needless to say, after the first hour, she was more than ready to go home.
Scorpius arrived alone. Of all the gossip that would make it into the witch’s magazines come morning, this was a core topic. His fiancée, one Heather Gold of America, had left him three days before. According to Witches’ Weekly, Heather left because Scorpius refused to settle down, despite their two-year-long engagement. After spending the first hour being hounded by the press, during which one reporter asked if Heather left because she found out about the Malfoys’ pasts, the poor blond was more than ready to drown his sorrows in the bottom of a Firewhiskey bottle and leave the party before eleven.
And then he saw Rose.
And he remembered why, exactly, Heather had left him.
Beyond inebriated and relying solely on liquid courage, Scorpius made his way over to the scarlet-haired witch. He came up behind her and slurred into her hair, “You know, Miss Weasley, I do believe I am in love with you.” Rose turned around to face him, her eyes wide, and flashes of both love and anger stirring within them. “In fact, I’m sure of it. See? My fiancée was too, which is why she left. She said, said, she said,” he steadied himself against a table, “That I needed to commit to someone that I loved. Do you know who that is?”
He paused, waiting for a reply, but Rose seemed shocked into silence, “It’s you,” he then poked her with his long bony index finger, right between the breasts. “I love you, Rose Weasley.”
It took less than a minute for Rose to collect herself and run far away from the Burrow. She kicked off her heels determinedly and rushed through the high grass of the fields. Scorpius gazed wide-eyed after her, completely unsure as to what it was that had just happened. Noticing this, James took pity on him and stopped dancing with Deanna long enough to place a sobering charm on his cousin’s confused friend.
“Oh bloody fuck,” Scorpius cursed, with just as little emotion in his voice as his mother had, “Did I really just do that?”
::::::::
Twenty-Seven
Rose stubbornly avoided Scorpius for another two years. She threw herself into her work, rising up the corporate ladder with the same easy grace as her mother, until she was the chair of the Horned Creatures’ Rights Subcommittee. She moved out of the flat she shared with James on the same day that Deanna moved in, and took a flat down the hall, so that she was still close enough to stop by and nag whenever she was in a bad mood-or cook for the undomesticated couple whenever they got tired of takeout.
It wasn’t until James’ wedding, ten years later than everyone had expected it to take place, that Rose and Scorpius saw each other again. He was there as Dominique’s date, as Kaleigh was out of town on an Auror assignment. Scorpius looked just as good as he had two years ago, when he professed his love for her in a drunken stupor. She tried not to notice him the entire night, but as the last song began to play, he seemed to have finally cornered her.
“Dance with me?” and it wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a demand. It was as if the words had been scripted, and he knew she would say yes. As if he were just following a play written before the night ever began. She moved to stand before she allowed herself to get angry and carefully placed her hand in his.
“I meant what I said,” he told her, his silver eyes boring in to hers, like tornado through the ocean. “I do love you.”
She shook her head, just slightly, her eyes never leaving his face. “Don’t tell me that,” she replied, “not just yet. I want to start from the beginning, all over again.”
She was tired, and bitter, and she wanted her best friend back. She had spent the last ten years wanting him to be more than what he was, but now she knew that the man she needed was the man Scorpius had been all along. “Just tell me that you’re sorry, and that we can start again.”
Scorpius smiled at her, and she realized they were the last ones dancing, “I’m sorry,” he said, the conviction in his voice so easily honest, “and we can start again.”
He kissed her then, and the last ten years slipped away, leaving her more beautiful than she had been at seventeen, but still the same woman she had always been. She kissed him back softly, chastely, and they fell together like soft waves along the shore, dancing with each other and knowing that they had finally figured out where, and how, they belonged.