Now or Never

“Rosie, come on,” Al whispered, pulling on her sleeve, “before she gives you detention again.  You know what your mum said if it happened again.”

Rose Weasley glared at her cousin as she jerked her arm away and began packing up her books.  “I know, alright,” she muttered under her breath.  “I do remember what happened last time.  She was positively livid.” Rose rolled her eyes and threw her books into her bag.  “But bugger it all, Al.  What the hell is that woman thinking?”

“Do we have a problem, Miss Weasley?” Zabini smirked, and Rose bit her tongue to keep from informing her potions instructor that her parents had, in fact, been quite right – that she really was a ‘horrid cow’ and that her nose really did look like she’d been hit in the face with a board.  But it was Quidditch against Slytherin tomorrow, and there was no way she was risking detention from the Head of Slytherin House, who would undoubtedly find a way for Gryffindor’s seeker to miss the match if given the opportunity.

“No, Professor,” Rose replied, gritting her teeth.  “There’s no problem.”  At least not one I’m going to share with you.  Rose threw her book bag over her shoulder, and with one last scathing look, she and Al left the dungeon classroom.  She was so angry that Al was nearly sprinting to keep up with her.

“And it isn’t as if complaining to Zabini about it would help.  You know she always sides with her own House,” Al continued once they were safely outside.  “I suppose you could complaint to Uncle Neville about it.  You know how much he loves to have a go at her.”  

Rose snorted despite her irritation.  “Oh, as if I would give Pansy Zabini the satisfaction of bringing him into it.  But you know she hopes this will sabotage my grade in that class.”  She sighed warily, continuing her trek towards the library.  “No, I’ll just have to suffer through the last five months of my sixth year with a fake smile on my face,” which she demonstrated for him, “and do whatever it takes to maintain my position in the class is all.”

The top position, she thought, just above Scorpius Malfoy.  A blush crept up her cheeks at the implications of that statement, and Rose was grateful that Al was a step behind her and couldn’t see it.

“You know, I think that maybe this is for the best.”

She stopped and spun around.  “Oh really?  And how do you reckon that?”

“Well, it will prove once and for all that you deserve the top spot,” Al reasoned, and Rose eyed him thoughtfully, admitting that he did have a point and maybe he was right.  On the other hand, she thought, he could be telling me what I want to hear just to shut me up.  After all, other than her parents and younger brother, there was no one she had spent more time with or who knew her better than Al Potter, and he was a master at playing to her emotions.  “I’m serious, Rosie.  Think about it.  Zabini wants you to fail, so she gives you one of the most complicated potions she possibly could, while she gives Malfoy, the student she wants to succeed, a simple one.”

“And that helps me how?” Rose interrupted, her hands on her hips.  “She gave him the Draught of Sleeping Death.”  She huffed sarcastically.  “I could brew that in my sleep, and so could he.  You know his will be perfect.”

“Sure it will, but so what?  Yours will be too.  And when you brew a perfect Polyjuice, compared to his Draught, she’ll have no choice but to admit yours is more impressive, won’t she?”

Rose opened her mouth to make a snide retort but stopped short.  Al was right – as usual, she admitted somewhat begrudgingly.  “Always the voice of reason, aren’t you?” she chuckled, grabbing his arm and proceeding towards her destination once more.

Al laughed as they walked side by side.  “And why you continue to sound so surprised never ceases to amaze me.”

“Just because your dad is Harry Potter, you think you’re so smart, don’t you?”  Rose elbowed Al playfully, and he nudged her back just as hard.  “Of course, and just because your dad is Ron Weasley, you think you’re so charming, don’t you?”

“Naturally,” she grinned with an exaggerated toss of her hair.  “Would you expect any less from the daughter of a marketing genius and the cleverest witch of her generation?”

Al groaned.  “I think that’s my cue to cut this one short.”  He nodded towards the stairwell leading to the Ravenclaw common room.  “Besides, I promised Ellie I’d meet up with her before dinner.”

Rose quirked an eyebrow and smirked knowingly.  “You’re meeting Ellie before dinner?  My Ellie?  Oh, do say ‘hello’ for me, won’t you?”

She giggled as Al’s somewhat tempered version of the Weasley blush crept up his neck.  Feeling somewhat guilty about taking the piss, she reached over and squeezed his hand.  “You know I’m only joking, Al,” she said sincerely.  “I love it that you’re dating my best friend.”

“And here I thought I was your best friend all these years,” he teased, squeezing her hand back.  He looked at her seriously.  “Don’t spend all night in the library, alright?  You need to rest up for the match tomorrow and … well, you need to have a little more fun than spending every Friday evening studying in the library.”

“So you’d rather I spent my time trolling around the common room and making eyes at all the boys like Chloe Finnigan?”

“Hell no,” Al groaned, shaking his head and holding up a hand.  “You’re right.  Forget I said anything.  Have fun in the nice quiet library.”  He patted her shoulder and grinned.  “See you at dinner.”

Rose smiled as she watched him ascend the far staircase before taking the stairs to the Fourth Floor.  She felt very lucky to have Al.  Sure, he was family, but he was also her very best friend, the person she trusted more than anyone else, really, and she never failed to appreciate having such an easy relationship with him. 

For as long as she could remember, Auntie Ginny had laughingly referred to them as ‘two peas in a pod.’  But Rose reckoned that they were bound to be, considering that their October birthdays were only one week apart, and they pretty much grew up together, spending so much time at the Burrow, or at Al’s house, or at hers.  Even she wasn’t exactly sure why it was, but she and Al never rowed.  They rarely even disagreed.  And they could read each other in ways that no one else truly understood.

So Rose was relieved that Al was fairly distracted by his crush on Ellie Boot, her best female friend, because it kept him from looking too closely and seeing her own mixed up feelings.

Rose entered the library, waved hello to Madame Clarke, and headed to her favorite table in the deserted Runes section at the back, just off of the Restricted Section.  She dropped her book bag onto the table with a slight thud and fell back into her chair with a sigh before pulling out her Transfiguration book along with several others and unrolling the essay that she needed to finish for next Friday’s lesson.  But rather than getting started on the last little bit, she chewed on the end of her quill and twisted an auburn curl idly, glancing absentmindedly at the rope sectioning off the restricted books and allowing herself a few moments to contemplate him and just how she’d got herself into this mess she now found herself embroiled in.

More than once over Christmas holidays, Grandma Weasley had remarked to her that she was ‘just the perfect mix’ of her parents, and Rose tended to agree, knowing that it extended beyond her curly auburn hair, brown eyes, and freckles.  She had her mother’s ambition, desire for knowledge, sense of fairness, and compulsiveness, tempered by her father’s wit, strategic abilities, sense of loyalty, and quick temper.  And just like her parents, Rose was competitive and passionate, and she nearly always played by the rules, unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary to bend them.

Scorpius Malfoy had been a thorn in her side since their first day of classes.  She’d noticed him on the Platform, of course, after her dad and Uncle Harry mentioned him, but she hadn’t been too concerned or impressed.  He looked rather bored standing there with his parents, waiting to board the Hogwarts Express, and Rose got the impression that he was none too thrilled with being there.  And after she and Al had made fun of the adults who laughed at some ridiculous joke her dad made about Granddad Weasley and Rose marrying a pureblood on the train later,  she really hadn’t given him another thought until he laid down the gauntlet in the most unthinkable of ways.

Her dad had cautioned her, in private naturally, against coming across as a know-it-all by being too overzealous in class.  He encouraged her to be proud of her abilities and to share her knowledge, but not to do so in a snotty manner.  Sheepishly, he told Rose about his not-so-kind first impressions of her mother, admitting that the old “Troll in the Dungeon” bedtime story that he’d told her and Hugo when they were children was actually true:  that he had called her mother a ‘nightmare’ because she truly had been unbearable up to that point, that she had been stuck in the loo with a mountain troll, that he and Uncle Harry really did save her from it, and that afterwards, her mum had still been a know-it-all but she was not nearly so insufferable.

Heeding her dad’s advice, Rose arrived for her first class, a joint Herbology lesson with Slytherin, and she was more than ready to impress Neville – Professor Longbottom – by having read the entire chapter and being able to answer any question he might pose, although she intended to do so without appearing overly-anxious or obnoxious.  And when he asked the first question, she fully expected to be the first to have her hand raised, just as she had been repeatedly in every class at the Muggle school she’d attended.  But he had beat her to it, his hand shooting into the air halfway through the question, his answer perfect when he was called upon, and Rose realized that for the first time in her life, she had competition for that top spot in the class.

Seeing as she was a Weasley and a Granger, she welcomed the challenge.

And yet, somehow over the next five years, she and Malfoy actually became friends.  Rather good friends, truth be told.  Rose supposed that it was inevitable, really, since they were constantly being thrown together and competing against each other – in classes, on the Quidditch Pitch, as prefects, and during O.W.L.S.  But rather than curb the competition, their friendship fueled it.  If there was a way that he could compete with her, he did.  And while Rose managed to keep the upper hand academically, having the top marks in all of their classes and receiving a class-best eleven Outstandings – which greatly thrilled her mum and dad – Malfoy had topped her in two of their three inter-House Quidditch matches, catching the Snitch right under her nose both times – a fact that her dad and Uncle Harry never failed to mention or bemoan anytime the subject arose, which was often.

But there was no questioning that the competition with Scorpius Malfoy was right personal, and Rose Weasley intended to win at all costs.  Unfortunately, somewhere along the line, a different kind of conflict arose, and for the first time in her life, she was less than confident about conquering it. 

Because for the past several weeks, since before they’d left for Christmas hols, her mind and her heart were having very mixed feelings about Scorpius Malfoy.

Her mind was still fighting against him, wanting to best him and bring him to his knees.

And her heart fought vigorously against him, too, as he now crept into her dreams, and all thoughts of besting him and bringing him to his knees took on very different, much more explicit connotations.

At the oddest, and rather most inconvenient, times over the holidays, such as the middle of her dad’s expected dissertation during dinner as to why the Chudley Cannons cannot catch a break or when she was supposed to be helping Grandma Weasley set the table, Rose found herself wondering how his silky white-blond locks would feel between her fingers and comparing how different his icy blue eyes were from her dad’s and brother’s sapphire blue and recalling how broad his shoulders looked in his Quidditch robes and wishing that she could know for certain if his lips were as soft as they appeared.

By the time they’d returned to school in January, Rose was really beginning to resent every moment she spent thinking about Scorpius in any way other than beating him, and it infuriated her that he was no longer playing fair by invading her thoughts and taking residence in her dreams.  She was supposed to be dreaming of someone else – bloody hell, anyone else – besides him. 

Why couldn’t it be Cameron Longbottom, who she had known her whole life and who was Head Boy this year, a fact that her parents mentioned entirely too often?  It was Cameron, after all, who gave Rose her very first, very public, kiss just over ten years ago, on her seventh birthday, following an unfortunate incident when he’d walked in on his parents ‘wrestling’ that he’d proceeded to describe rather loudly to everyone at Rose’s party at the Burrow; an event that Neville still mentioned entirely too often just in order to watch Lavender blush.  Cameron, who had never really expressed any romantic interest in her and who she had always just thought of as a big brother rather than someone to fancy.

Or Luke Goldstein, who captained the D.A. this year and was being heavily recruited by both Uncle Harry and the Unspeakables to join them once he aced his N.E.W.T.s?  It was Luke who took her on her first official date to Hogsmeade three years ago, who tentatively held her hand as they walked from shop to shop, who shyly bought her fudge at Honeydukes and a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, who quickly pecked her on the lips and looked as if he’d die of embarrassment.  Luke, who was her first official boyfriend but who was really far too busy to barely even speak to girls these days.

Or Simon Macmillan, who was a brilliant Beater and always the life of the party?  It was Simon who had encouraged her to try out for the Quidditch team her second year, who she dated much of last year until he caught her off guard coming off of the pitch after she caught the Snitch in the final match against Hufflepuff and proceeded to snog her rather enthusiastically in front of the entire school and, rather unfortunately, in front of their parents, after which Rose was forced to endure her mother’s two-hour ‘refresher’ lecture on human sexuality and the proper way to cast a contraceptive charm while her father grumbled over and over that he’d never trusted ‘that bloody Beater’; an unfortunate move by Simon that rather effectively killed any further interest she had in doing anything remotely associated with snogging him again.  Simon, who nodded and genuinely understood when she explained to him for over an hour exactly why they really were better off as just friends.

No, she had to dream about Scorpius Malfoy, who was oftentimes completely snarky and conceited, but who made her laugh uncontrollably, in ways rivaling her dad and Uncle George. 

Scorpius Malfoy, who purposely picked arguments with her and drove her to the edge of reason just to watch her lose her temper, but who repeatedly encouraged and pushed her to strive for more as they studied together for O.W.L.S.

Scorpius Malfoy, who was ambitious and clever, but who, she discovered only last term, had quietly tutored several first years in Charms when they couldn’t grasp Wingardium Leviosa.

Scorpius Malfoy, who always wore the finest robes and flew the finest broom and never lacked for anything he wanted, but who took the time to owl the brand-new Chocolate Frog cards bearing her parents’ likenesses to her over the holidays ‘to make sure she had them’ because he remembered that her mum still had a thing about them eating too many sweets.

Scorpius Malfoy, who was a Slytherin and a pureblood.  Who, even worse, was the son of Draco Malfoy, a man that her parents barely tolerated when they saw each other in public, after which her father never failed to mention how they’d saved ‘that ungrateful spineless bastard’s life twice’ and her mother never failed to wonder how it was that someone as pleasant as Hanna Svensson had married him.  It had crossed Rose’s mind many times over the past several weeks that if she thought her father’s reaction to Simon Macmillan snogging her had been bad, it would pale in comparison to the reaction he was sure to have if she ever dated Scorpius Malfoy.

Not that he’d ever think of me that way …

“I thought I might find you here.  It’s nearly time for dinner.”

Rose sat up quickly and instinctively touched her quill to the parchment before her as she jerked her head around.

Shite.  She bit her lip again, attempting to calm her racing heart, as he settled, facing her, into the chair beside her.  Why does he have to be so damn good-looking?

Quickly, she gathered herself and reverted to the Weasley sarcasm that had served her well for seventeen years.  “Impressive powers of deduction you’ve got there, Scorpius, seeing as I’m never here after potions class on Fridays.”

“Well, seeing as it doesn’t take much to impress you, Rose …” he smirked.  “And what do we have here?” he asked, pulling her essay towards him.  “Falling behind, are we?”  He unrolled it completely and sniggered.  “Still lacking a foot or so, I’d say.  I’ve finished mine, of course,”

“Oh, of course you have.  Although I wonder how you find time, what with your busy social schedule.  I’m surprised your girlfriend isn’t here with you, attached at the hip.”  Rose hoped that she only sounded sardonic, that she’d managed to keep a tone of jealousy from creeping into her voice; the last thing she wanted to do was let on to him that a battle was being waged inside her and that he was the cause.

He shot her a bored look.  “If you’re speaking of Lise, you really are behind.  That was over before hols.”

Rose raised an eyebrow questioningly.  “Really?” she attempted to sound exaggeratedly surprised.  “How awful for you.”

“Come off it, Rose,” he admonished. “I know you hate her.”

“I don’t hate her,” Rose protested.  “I just don’t have anything to say to her.  She’s not particularly engaging, is she?”

“I found her to be awfully engaging at times,” he sniggered under his breath.

Rather than respond, Rose looked down at her essay and bit her lip yet again as she began writing.  Scorpius had spent nearly all of last term attached at the lips to Lise Dubois, and although Rose found her to be boring and not very bright, she had to admit that Lise was beautiful, with her dark hair and tanned skin, and the two of them had made quite an impressive-looking couple.  Well, she thought, they looked good when you could actually see anything other than the two of them wriggling around like eels.

Really, Lise was simply another of the fantastically good-looking yet pathetically dim-witted girls that had managed to date him, following in the footsteps of Simone Corner and Judith Nott, who were gorgeous to look at but hadn’t necessarily seemed all that interested in carrying on any sort of verbal conversation with him.

“Not to worry.  I’m sure there will be another fangirl step up before you know it,” Rose retorted finally, as she began her conclusion, summarizing the difficulties associated with human transfiguration into animals, and recalling with a small amount of amusement that her dad still sometimes referred to Scorpius’s dad as ‘the amazing bouncing ferret.’

“Be that as it may, I think I’m finished with fangirls for a while.”  His voice carried just a hint of laughter behind his words, just enough to tease.  “Too much trouble.”

Without looking up from her essay, she remarked, “Yes, I suppose even you can take a lack of substance for only so long.”

“Touché.  Although, I could say the same about you.”

“What are you on about?” she asked, looking over at him, her irritation evident.  “I never –”

“And that’s the problem – ‘you never.’  I say it’s high time you stop playing hard to get and go out with me.”

Rose bit back a heavy sigh but was unable to prevent an exaggerated eye-rolling.  He is such a bloody tease.  “However could a girl say ‘no’ to such an offer?  You’re ever the charmer, Scorpius.”  She shook her head and returned to the essay, but she was finding it hard to concentrate, his words cutting through her.

If only he’d meant it.  If she thought even for a moment that he was seriously asking her out, she would have said ‘yes.’  But she knew the type of girl Scorpius Malfoy went out with, and it didn’t include intelligent Gryffindors, especially those with the surname Weasley.

She dotted her ‘i’s a little roughly as she finished, rolling the parchment, and watching as Scorpius grabbed it from her hand and held it above his head, the faintest grin grazing his lips.  “What’s this worth to you?”

Rose didn’t answer; she turned toward him and held out her hand, fixing him with her ‘I mean business’ glare, the one that caused her dad to wince and repeatedly mention to her mum that it was too much like hers.  Unfortunately, the look that usually got Rose what she wanted didn’t phase Scorpius in the least.

“Oh, come now, Rose.  Is that the best you’ve got?” he laughed.  “Even my mum can do better than that.”

She found this jab a bit insulting, and she really did not appreciate his tone.  From what she knew of Hanna Malfoy, a tall, slender, Scandinavian witch from Durmstrang that now worked with Auntie Fleur at Gringotts, Rose very much doubted that she had so much as even reprimanded her son once in his life, much less looked crossly at him. 

“I am really not in the mood for this tonight,” she huffed.  “I want you to give it to me now, Scorpius.”  She scooted forward in her seat, leaned in, and reached for her parchment, unwittingly insinuating her legs between his legs, her chest almost flush against his chest.

Had her senses not been focused so intently upon him, she might have missed his slight intake of breath as their thighs brushed, and she would have missed the flash of something in his eyes.  But she would have been blind not to notice his gaze fall to her lips before returning to hers, his eyes boring into hers intently. 

Rose felt as if she’d been hit by a bolt of lightening when her fingers brushed against his as he lowered his arm and allowed her to take the essay from him.  His eyes drifted back to her lips then lower.  Hers followed, and she was horrified to find that her skirt had ridden up, exposing a great deal more leg than was proper.

“Uh …” she muttered, simultaneously scooting back in her chair and tugging the hem of her skirt down.  Her cheeks were burning, and she knew that her flush was due only in small part to embarrassment and irritation, that it was due in larger part to her increasing frustration.  She closed her eyes.  “I –”

She stopped abruptly when his hand came to rest on her knee.  “What did you say before?” he whispered.  “About wanting me to give it to you now?”  His breath was hot against her ear, and another jolt ran through her as he threw her own words back at her in such a provocative manner.  She lifted her eyes to find his face mere inches from hers.  “Haven’t you wondered what it would be like?”  His voice, no longer a whisper, was still low and deliberate.  “Don’t you think that maybe all this contention between us –” she watched his index finger, hypnotized, as it slowly brushed a curl from her shoulder, “is really something else?”

Rose was acutely aware of the fingers caressing her knee ever so slightly as well as those now lightly brushing the curls from her neck.  Her breath caught when she felt his lips graze against her jaw, just below her ear.  He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze once more, the tips of their noses not quite touching.  “Stop playing hard to get and go out with me,” he repeated, his voice rich with sincerity.

Rose wasn’t sure if he met her halfway, but he’d barely finished what he was saying when her lips crushed against his.  Her essay floated to the ground as her arms slid around his neck.

The few kisses she’d shared with Luke Goldstein were short, sweet, and simple.  The snogs she’d participated in with Simon Macmillan were fun, a few first fumblings with a boy that she had liked a lot once upon a time.

But none of those kisses prepared her in the least for this kiss with Scorpius.  For his one hand to slide into her hair and clutch the back of her head, and his other to slide up the side of her thigh to her hip before settling on her waist, both hands pulling her body closer into his.  For his lips to open slightly as they slid across hers, allowing him to suck her lower lip between his and to nip at her upper lip.  For his groan that she felt more than heard as her tongue swept into his mouth, leading him to shift his head just so, allowing him better access to return the favor.

It was so much better than she had imagined it would be.  Never before had a snog caused this reaction in Rose’s body.  Never before had she felt such intense sensations.  He was intoxicating, and she was quite sure that she couldn’t kiss him enough to ever quench the desire running through her.

Wanting to get him closer, her hands clutched his face, and she pressed herself forward to the edge of her chair, settling between his legs as close as she could without actually moving into his lap.  The movement forced her knees together even tighter, which served the dual purpose of allowing her calves to rest against his and offering her a moment of temporary relief against the blinding heat that was converging between her thighs.

His mouth broke from hers almost forcibly, and he placed open-mouthed kisses up her jaw.  Rose tilted her head to give him better access, and he accepted her invitation by sucking hard at the spot just below her ear.  She could hear his ragged breathing as his tongue moved along the edge of her ear before he caught her earlobe between his teeth.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed against her neck.  “It’s been torture studying with you these past few months and not telling you how much I fancy you.”  His lips grazed against hers.  “Hoping that I was right in thinking you fancied me, too,” he whispered before thoroughly kissing her again.

Rose was sure that her heart was going to burst out of her chest at any moment.  The blood was pounding in her ears, and she was having trouble catching her breath.  Between the achingly wonderful kisses and her own physical reaction to them, she wasn’t entirely sure that she had heard his declaration correctly.

He said fancies me! she thought gleefully.  I can’t wait to tell Ellie and Al … Oh!  Bloody fucking hell – what do I tell Al?  And not just Al, but the rest of the family?  Oh god, and my parents – what am I going to tell my parents?  Shite – I can only imagine what Dad will say.

Rose reluctantly tore her mouth from his and held his face tightly, resting their foreheads against each other.  They were both breathing heavily, and he smiled.  “That was bloody incredible.”

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly.  “Definitely.”  She smiled sadly, closing her eyes.  “But what does this … are you sure about this?  With me?  You know we have to be sure.”

She felt him disentangle his hand from her hair as he backed away, sitting up straight in his chair.  Her hands fell to his forearms, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her oddly.

“What the hell?  Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did, but what do we tell –”

His kiss cut her off, but she was taken aback that it was colder somehow, that his lips felt harsh against hers.  She pulled away before he could deepen it, crossing her arms across her chest and quirking an eyebrow at him questioningly.  He was scowling.

“What’s wrong?  Why are you …?  Are you angry?” she asked, bewildered at his sudden change.

“Worried, are you?” he replied derisively.  “Afraid that one of your Gryffindor mates might discover your dark secret?  Or worse, that one of your bloody cousins might learn that you snogged a Slytherin?  Maybe you’re concerned that mummy and daddy will find out you fancy a Malfoy?”

Rose felt each and every word cut through her like a knife, and it was a chore fighting back the angry tears that were threatening.  “Well, if that’s what you think of me …”  Unable to continue without completely losing her composure, she shoved hard against his chest, causing her chair to screech across the floor.  What a fucking arse.  I almost believed he was different …  How could I be so foolish?  She stood and began throwing her books back into her bag.  And why the fuck did I let him kiss me?

She needed to get away from him and forget this night ever happened.  Regroup and refocus before she had to face him in tomorrow’s match and during rounds on Sunday night.

She refused to look at him as she shoved the last book inside, threw the bag over her shoulder, and reached out for her wand.  His hand grabbed her wrist just as her fingers grazed it.

“Rose.  I’m sorry.  Please.”

His voice was rich with emotion.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes; she couldn’t look at him just yet, but she would hear what he had to say.  And she did not wrestle her arm away, although she tried to ignore the feel of his fingers gently moving over her wrist.

“That wasn’t fair, and I never should have said it,” he continued, his voice low and pleading.  “And that’s not what I think of you.”

Rose ventured a glance at him.  He was staring at his hand, still holding firm around her wrist, his face awash with regret.  “Then why would you say it?” she asked sadly, gazing at their ‘joined’ hands for a moment before focusing on his face.

Scorpius shook his head.  “I really don’t know.”  He sighed deeply and raised his eyes to meet hers.  “Do you realize what happens if we do this?  What we’re opening ourselves up to if we start dating?  Are you ready to admit to your family that you fancy me?  To tell them that you’re going out with me?”

Rose considered his words carefully, and a second wave of anxiety swept over her at the thought of how her family might react.  She knew Al would be okay with it once he made sure that it was really something she wanted.  She expected that James, Fred, and Hugo would take the piss something fierce, but they wouldn’t care, really, one way or the other as long as he was nice to her.  She anticipated that she’d probably have to listen to some disparaging remarks about Scorpius’s father from her aunts and uncles, and that her grandparents would make subtle comments as well, although not quite to the same degree.  And she had no doubt that Mum would want to discuss, ad nauseum, the pros and cons of being in a relationship, and being in a relationship with someone who was raised so differently from herself, and that she really shouldn’t let the relationship progress too far but did she remember the contraceptive charms just in case. 

As for Dad … Rose knew his reaction would be …  No, it was best not to think about what his reaction would be just yet.

“Yes,” she replied softly, finally wrenching her arm away from his grasp, only to tentatively reach up and brush a lock of hair from his forehead.  “But are you?  Maybe it’s not worth it to you.”

Rose gasped softly as Scorpius took her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against her palm.  “It’s worth it.”  He stood and faced her, still clutching her hand.  “You’re worth it.”

“As are you,” she whispered.

He closed the distance between them to place a gentle chaste kiss against her lips, and Rose felt him smile. 

“So, it’s good with you, then?” he asked as he pushed their chairs under the table.  “Us being together?”

“Definitely,” she grinned, pocketing her wand and shifting her bag to the other shoulder.

He flung an arm loosely around her shoulder.  “Does that mean I can snog you after I beat you at Quidditch?”

She laughed and elbowed him playfully.  “Not in the middle of the pitch.  And you will not beat me at Quidditch tomorrow.”  Rose offered a quick wave and ‘good night’ to Madame Clarke, attempting not to notice the look of delighted surprise on the librarian’s face as Scorpius held the door open for her and trying not to grin like an idiot when he took her book bag from her and slung it over his shoulder, his arm returning to its former resting place across her shoulders.

“So are you telling me that you don’t fancy another two hour lecture on the precise way to cast a proper contraceptive charm?” he teased as they made their way down to the Great Hall, ignoring the curious looks from the students that passed by them.

She shook her head, wondering why in the world she ever shared that information in the first place.  “Um … no,” she groaned, adding softly, “I expect that I’ll be facing a lecture on a slightly different subject soon enough.”

“Yeah, I suppose you will.”  He squeezed her shoulder and pulled her closer into him.  “I wish things were different.”

“Me, too,” she agreed.  “But I can take it.  I’ve pretty much learned how to tune Mum out when she really gets going.”

He chuckled.  “You’ll have to teach me so I can do that with my father.”

“It’s a deal.”

They stopped at the top of the marble staircase, and Rose felt Scorpius stiffen, his arm dropping behind her back and to his side.  She glanced down and saw several groups, students from their respective Houses, including one made up almost entirely of Weasleys and Potters.  Without thinking on it, Rose reached over and took his hand.  Scorpius’s eyes met hers.

“Come on.  It’s now or never,” she whispered with a smile, and they descended the staircase and proceeded into the Great Hall, hand in hand, amid the whispers and giggles and astonished stares.

And Rose knew that this part was easy, and facing her parents would be more complicated, but then again, who was she to run away from a challenge.

Author’s notes:  So many thanks to gwen1170 and spidergirl30 for their support and putting up with my worries about this story.

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