A few months later, in the dead of winter, Rose Weasley sits at a table in Divination. Her gaze is fixed angrily on the glass sphere in front of her, willing the smoke within to shift into something she can bloody fucking see.

"So, basically, I'll get lost in some damned foggy woods, walk through some fog, and then arrive at some more bloody fog," she growls, and Lysander looks up from his work at her. He laughs, shaking his head merrily, curly dark hair flying every which way. He leans over, tapping a finger against Rose's crystal ball.

"You're shit at this," he says, and if Rose didn't know her friend better, she would have mistaken the tone in his voice as impatience.

"I am, I can't deny it," she sighs, and watches him work. Lysander glances between the parchment in his lap and Rose's crystal a few times.

"Well, this little wisp right here means you'll die at the many legs of a ferocious green spider," Rose blanches, despite the obvious lie. The younger Scamander has always been an avid and talented story teller, and at the moment, his light, relaxed voice is eerie enough to make her believe him.

"And this one right here means that you'll be reincarnated as a fat, old cow…" Lysander glances at her, and then chuckles. "That one's already true, never mind."

Rose raises her fish to punch him in the shoulder, but Trelawney decides to renter the class room at the exact moment. The Weasley lets her hand fall on Lysander's head, patting affectionately as if he were a dog.

"You're very good at this, Lysander. Thank you for divining my entire future and the collective futures of my many descendants," she says loudly when Trelawney flutters by, earning her friend a pleased smile. The professor claps her hands and the babbling in the room dies down. She brings her glasses up to her beaky nose, and opens her mouth to prepare a lecture. Lysander groans and flips his parchment to begin a new set of notes.

Suddenly, the door to the tower slams open. Everyone cheers at the distraction, glad to have gotten out of a lecture, if only for a few moments. The Divination professor's various preachings are known for being notorious, half-sane ramblings. The only student who seems to enjoy the lectures is Lysander, who sighs. With a thump, his parchment and quill fall back to the table.

Everyone, out of reflex, turns to stare at the poor soul that has decided to interrupt class. Most of the girls gasp in unison, and then start giggling and gossiping frantically. Rose opens her mouth to sigh as well, but Lysander slaps a hand over her mouth. She feels like thanking him, but instead hisses "You stupid git," when the skin around her mouth begins to sting from the quick strike. Lysander shrugs apologetically.

Scorpius Malfoy strides confidently into the room, egotistical and intimidating as ever with his noble aura and prideful composure. His pride, in fact, rivals that of a hippogriff's. Trelawney peeks down her spectacles at him, raising an eyebrow judgmentally at the rude interruption.

"Erhm, Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing here? If I'm not mistaken, you should be in Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Heffernan, am I, ah, correct?"

Scorpius flashes the teacher a dazzling smile, and nods.

"Unfortunately, there was a slight dispute between Albus Potter and I. My punishmen-…er, and I've been told to switch my schedule, as to avoid further conflict."

Rose's heart leaps into her throat at the idea of Albus being injured, and Lysander is fast to jump to his feet, worried for his best friend's safety.

Trelawney is still slightly confused at the sight of a new student appearing in the middle of the year, and Rose feels terrible at the utterly lost look in her eyes when Lysander stands. She rises next to him, grabbing his arm and dragging back down into his seat with finality. Rose tries to calm him down, but Scorpius's reaction to her friend isn't helping.

The blonde just smirks at the display and Lysander flips him the bird over Trelawney's head.

The Malfoy's face flashes with resenting anger, and he raises his wand. Their professor squeaks, and stammers for him to put it away, and Scorpius covers up his aggression quickly. He waves his wand at the Divination textbooks behind her. "Just getting my copy, ma'am," he explains. Rose can't believe she's so easily fooled.

"Oh I do so hope you'll enjoy the class, Mr. Malfoy. The others have not been so lucky with their readings…" she says disappointedly, and then turns to her desk, clapping her hands.

"So, in lieu of that, let's try swapping partners! Students, please point your wands at your balls and repeat after me! This spell will reduce the chances of-"

But no one's listening. There's a huge round of laughter at the professor's choice of words, though Trelawney either chooses to ignore it, or is oblivious.

Rose manages the spell through her giggles, and helps a pissed-off Lysander with his crystal ball when she's done. She isn't too excited to switch around partners, just because she doesn't know anyone else in the classroom besides Lysander, and is way too unsociable with any of the other girls to try and get along with them.

Besides, they'll all probably force her into reading a prophecy like "You will soon get shagged by a tall, sexy blonde."

While Trelawney shifts through ungraded essays absentmindedly, she flicks her wand at the giant piece of parchment behind her desk. An equally large quill begins writing the names of the new pairs, and Rose groans when Lysander's pops up away from hers. Her friend claps her on the back and wishes her luck before hurrying off to the other side of the room. Rose drops her head into her hands, scribbling a circle into her parchment. This class is horrendous.

Suddenly, someone plops down onto the pillowed armchair next to her. Rose sighs, owning up to the fact that she'll have a completely different partner – probably a stranger. She debates being unpleasant so the person will want to work alone, but in the end decides against it. She needs a good mark in Divination, and cheating her way out of partner work isn't going to help her get it.

"Well, hello, Weasley," the voice is decidedly male, but Rose doesn't need to look up from her parchment to place the boy's face.

"Honestly? Honestly? I work so bloody hard and this is how I'm repaid? Am I not being ambitious enough? Does the universe despise me?" Rose laments dramatically. She thumps her head against the table and stays there, staring at the grain of the wood and hoping he'll just get up and leave.

"Comments like that will force me to believe you are a Slytherin at heart," he says off-handedly.

"You are a complete fucking tart, can we just do it please?"

"And how exactly would you like to do it?" accompanied by a deep, cheeky laugh. Rose's face goes absolutely tomato-red.

"Oh, shut the fuck up, pervert," she exclaims. Turning back to her work, she wishes him away.

Rose lifts her head, determinded to work despite the…adversity that accompanies her partner. She begins by staring blankly at the empty crystal ball.

She can feel the eyes of almost every girl in the room glaring daggers into her back, but wills herself to focus. She can't escape the exaggerated thought that her life is now in danger, and she briefly toys with the idea of hiring Hank Goyle as a bodyguard for the rest of her miserable existence. Partnering with Malfoy for one class means death threats for life.

"You like it, Weasley."

"I don't."

"You like me, Weasley."

"I really truly, don't."

"You're very attracted to me, obviously."

"I am not attracted to you! I these lovely things called standards. It means I have decent taste in boys." she hisses as venomously as she can.

"What's that about taste? I'd like to give you something to taste, Weasley."

Rose flushes even redder, swiveling her head to glare at him. "This is bordering on sexual harassment. Must you be so creepy every time we speak?" she demands, and Scorpius nods in agreement.

"Affirmative."

"Fuck you."

"If you'd like."

She loses her patience, votes just to ignore him.

"So then it's a possibility?"

She shakes her head, sighing and returning to her work.

After a few minutes of silence, Rose gives up on her readings and sneaks a peek at what Scorpius is doing. He's writing methodically, looking up at his crystal and studying it before taking careful notes of what he sees. His penmanship is remarkable, and Rose finds herself leaning closer to get a better look at the neat and unified notes he's taking.

Scorpius looks up suddenly, and it hasn't been since their incident in the library since she's seen his eyes this close. They really are brilliant, all monochrome gray and swirling with stormy flecks of blue. She likes them. A lot.

"Why won't you just admit it, Weasley? We could just skip class and have a nice snog."

Rose pulls her chair farther away before swiping his parchment away. With a steady hand, she draws a small stick-figure resembling him hanging by a tree, eyes comical x's. He chuckles, and takes the parchment back. Erasing the tree with a quick spell, Scorpius edits the drawing to include larger muscles and then adds another figure, on its knees, in front of his stick-self.

From the bushy hair, it's obvious that the new figure is Rose.

"Oh, fuck off, Malfoy. Can't you be civil and just a little mature for once in your life?"

"I'd like to think this fantastic drawing is more than mature, Weasley. I mean, look at what you're doing."

"I'm finding it increasingly difficult to convince myself not to strangle you."

"You're into some pretty kinky shit, aren't you Rosie?"

She gives up. With a flop, Rose lets her head fall to the table again and covers her empty parchment with the sleeves of her Gryffindor sweater. It's just no use trying to get anything done with Malfoy around. He's just too bloody annoying, and he just is too perverted…but he just smells too good and Merlin is he good looking and he's right there…

Fuck it all, Rose. Stop!

"Oh, oops."

"What?"

"Dropped my quill."

Rose watches Scorpius push his shaggy blonde head under the table, rolling her eyes when eh reaches dramatically under the tablecloth and into the darkness.

"Malfoy! You fucking asshole!" Rose shrieks when his fingers suddenly ghost down her calf, and she twitches away from him thoroughly pissed. Scorpius pops up from under the table, smirking like a mad man. The Weasley tries not to stare at his tantalizingly close face.

The quirk of his lips is doing something funny to her stomach, and he seems to sense this. The tall Slytherin starts to lean closer, still smirking. Rose thinks fast and pushes him away, triumphant when he topples from the chair and falls onto.

"Owie," Scorpius complains, and Rose violently crosses her arms.

"You really will be arrested for harassment one day, Malfoy," she hisses, and Scorpius nods.

"Only if you put the handcuffs on me, Rosie."

"Oh, fuck you Malfoy!" she screeches.

"I'm looking forward to that!"

Her last curse gets them both detentions for two weeks.

Rose pushes a few stray curls from her face as she mops the floor of the trophy room, still cursing under her breath. Scorpius stands a few feet away, leaning on the top of his broom and watching her work.

"You could fucking help, you know," she says, and Scorpius shakes his head, smirking.

"I prefer to observe."

"Oh, I bet you do, fucking prat." she mutters under her breath, but he definitely hears her because he drops his broom and saunters over to her. Rose stops mopping with both hands to reach a palm out and push him backwards, but Scorpius grabs her wrist. She's suddenly obscenely close to him, breathing the same air.

Rose stares up at him for a moment, before opening her mouth in surprise. Scorpius thinks he's finally won her over, but the quick downwards swoop her eyebrows take warns him of the latter. The heel of one of Rose's flats slams down on his toe, and he winces, letting go of her wrist.

"Personal space, Malfoy," she says darkly, suddenly very intimidating and foreboding. It's pretty hot, so he tucks a loose fire-orange curl behind her ear, and that earns him another stomp.