Arrested Development (PG-13)
Title: Arrested Development
Author: enchantedteapot
Prompt: 020. No one expected the [hero’s] daughter to sin, but they sure would love to catch me at it. - Abbi Glines
Summary: Rose gets arrested; Scorpius is the arresting officer. An interrogation of sorts ensues.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Brief mentions to sexual activity. Bad language.
Word Count: 6,700
A/N: Muchas gracias to my last-second beta H.E. and also to L for the offer! Notes: A) In regards to Scorpius' actual job in this, going off the description of the D.L.E. here, I felt that there was likely to be another, much less exciting division beneath the Auror department that would deal with the petty, muggle-esque street crimes as described. Scorpius is therefore an officer of this lowly rank! B) There is an awful lot of talking in this fic. Literally, they never stop. It's basically one giant convo. Apologies if you like your Rose/Scorp a little more active. Enjoy!
When young Officer Malfoy had first been put on the Saturday night, Diagon Alley beat, he had resigned himself to a wearing evening of breaking up drunken brawls, chasing off would-be dealers and listening to the middle-aged despairings of his patrol partner, Savage. Never had he imagined that such a miserable February evening would be the first time in over four years that he set eyes on one Miss Rose Weasley. And he’d certainly seen a lot more of her than he’d bargained for.
He’d rounded the corner of Twillfit & Tatting’s a few yards ahead of Savage, who had been in the middle of a rather long moan about his on-going divorce, but had been stopped, dead in his tracks, frozen by the very sight of her.
Rose Weasley, in all her glory. Unmistakably going at it with an unidentified, tall, dark stranger.
Scorpius’ reaction times must have been getting slower with age, he concluded, because for about thirty mesmerizing seconds, he could do nothing but stare at the red-head. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back so that her cinnamon curls splayed out across the grimy bricks of the disused alleyway. Her mouth was open, lips gently parted and muttering words that Scorpius couldn’t hear against the sweaty neck of her companion, skirt bunched up around her waist.
Scorpius had only just managed to rouse himself as Savage came wheezing along behind him, illuminating the scene with his wand and brandishing his Officer’s badge. The man had taken one look at Scorpius’ patrol squad robes and scarpered, letting Rose collapse in a heap on the wet cobbles, where she had first burst out laughing... and then promptly passed out.
And so it was that the young, would-be Auror found himself filling out the necessary mountain of paperwork, whilst his charge - a comatose Rose Weasley - slept off the night-before in the comfort of a jail cell.
There was hardly anyone else on duty that night and, as arresting officer, it would be Scorpius’ job to process all of the defendant’s details. He hesitated over the box requiring Description of Incident, wondering if he could just write ‘indecent exposure’ and leave it at that. The memory of her arrest brought a fresh flush to his cheeks and he pushed his glasses further up his nose. It wasn’t exactly usual for him to be such a prude over these matters, but with each reverberating snore that erupted down the hallway, Scorpius was finding it harder to keep his personal thoughts - and feelings - in check.
He could remember Rose from Hogwarts, of course - doubted anyone could forget the vivacious young Gryffindor with a penchant for trouble making, and who had terrorised the day-dreams of hormone addled, male students for the better part of her high school education.
Scorpius was trying very hard not to think about his own one-time soft spot, as he documented each of her personal effects, including one pair of lacy purple knickers, found stuffed into a pocket of her leather jacket. Indeed, his standards of professionalism wouldn’t allow him to recall the days he had counted himself as one of her many admirers, failing almost every class they shared and trying to pluck up the courage to ask her out on a Hogsmeade weekend. Needless to say, he never came close.
No, Rose Weasley had always been one of a kind - up on a plinth - somewhere the likes of boring old Ravenclaws and President of the Arithmancy Club couldn’t quite reach. Now, however, she was curled up on a metal cot in a tiny cubic room that smelt disconcertingly of urine and, quite honestly, Scorpius was baffled.
True, Rose had always been an all round poster child for mischief, if his memory served him, tearing about with her cousins, Albus and Louis - or was it that Fred bloke? - and causing his fellow prefects no end of grief. But that was child's play, skipped curfews and exploding toilet seats and daring attempts to break into the Slytherin dungeons without any sincere plan of what to do when they actually succeeded.
Getting yourself banged up? Now that was something else entirely.
*
“Scorpius Malfoy!”
Two hours later and he was confronted with the beautiful wreck herself as he entered the dimly lit interview room. Rose, hair an uncombed mess and a charcoal mascara smudge beneath one eye, was grinning broadly and attempting to lean over the interview desk and embrace him. Scorpius stood there stiffly, Rose just about managing to grab a hold of his shoulders and give a tight squeeze.
He nodded, curtly, and motioned for her to take a seat, laying down an official looking file and handing her back her belongings which he’d placed carefully inside a clear plastic bag.
“I remember my dad saying something about you joining the force,” she rambled animatedly, without so much as a blush as she fished out her knickers, wedging them back inside a pocket. He supposed the gallon of Pepper-Up Potion she’d downed as soon as she’d regained consciousness must be finally kicking in.
“Still down here on foot patrol, are you? I’d have thought someone like you might have at least made it up to Auror training by now.”
Scorpius blinked quickly, mildly surprised by the combination of pleasure and embarrassment he derived, hearing that he had - at least at one time or another - been a topic of conversation over the Weasley dinner table, and that it was so clearly apparent to others that he was still going nowhere within his chosen career path.
Rose was rifling through the clear plastic bag again, finally pulling out her wand and a well-thumbed pack of Malboro Lights.
“You can’t smoke those in -,”
“Listen, Scorp. Can I call you Scorp?” She took a long, deep drag from her newly lit cigarette.
Scorpius frowned. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“The others never really bothered with this whole ‘official paper-work’ malarkey.” She pulled a face, as if formal procedure were something he had invented for his own amusement. “So why don’t we just call it a night? It’s really, very late and I’m sure you have a dozen other things you need to get on with. And, to be honest,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in towards him, “I could really do with a shower.”
Scorpius certainly couldn’t argue with that. His nose wrinkled at the strong scent of firewhiskey her breath left in the air between them, and the deep musk emanating off her clothes - reeking of sweat, foreign cologne and a general wild night - had him squirming in his seat.
“Miss Weasley-,”
“Call me Rose,” she beamed at him, quickly.
“Miss Weasley. You’ve been arrested. Do you understand why you’re here?” He offered her the sternest stare he could muster, faltering only slightly as she began to chew on her bottom lip. “And what do you mean ‘others’? It doesn’t say anything here about you being brought in before.”
“Really?” She leant over the desk, obscuring Scorpius’ view of her file with a mane of tangled, red hair. “Excellent. Can I go then?”
Scorpius whipped the file off the table and ground his teeth together in frustration. “Miss Weasley, this is a very serious matter. I don’t know what treatment you have received from my colleagues in the past but I can assure you -,”
“Would we say ‘very serious’?” she interrupted, propping herself up on her elbows.
He blinked, uncertainly. “Well… you’ve broken the law.”
“Oh, but I’ve always thought that was a very silly law.” Rose grinned, coquettishly.
With her lively blue eyes and dimpled, freckled cheeks, Scorpius instantly found himself staring back at her seventeen year old alter-ego. Even then, he remembered ruefully, Rose had always made it very hard to be professional.
Steeling himself with a quick straighten of his Officer's badge - a reminder to all that he was supposedly in charge here - Scorpius attempted to coolly meet her stare. "A shame then, that you were not consulted during our country's legislative process. Now, Miss Weasley -,"
“Rose.”
He ignored her. “Why don’t you start by telling me what other offences you’ve been brought in for recently?”
Rose snorted, somewhat unattractively, coughing as she inhaled a mouthful of smoke too quickly. “And why in Merlin’s name would I do a thing like that?" she laughed. "You know, you really ought to work on your interrogation technique.”
That pinched a nerve. He could remember reading a similar statement on his last, sub-par performance review and he certainly didn’t need the girl of his adolescent fantasies jumping on that bandwagon.
“Then tell me why the other officers failed to report anything?” he snapped, snatching the cigarette from between her fingers and stubbing it out roughly on the table-top. Rose quirked an eyebrow at the singe mark left in the wood.
“Well," she answered, carefully, "I imagine it had something to do with my father.”
Scorpius frowned, “Chief Auror Weasley?”
“Mmm. The others probably had the good sense not to go telling tales on their boss’ daughter.”
Scorpius stiffened, grey eyes narrowing as he stared at the young woman across the desk. She held his gaze, her blue stare playful, and bribed him with a teasing smile.
“Would that be a not-so-subtle threat, Miss Weasley?”
“Of course not, Officer Malfoy." She pursed her lips as if to fight off a grin. "I'm merely pointing out the most logical explanation behind your colleagues' oversight. Really, as a pillar of Ravenclaw, I'm surprised you missed it."
Scorpius could have kicked himself for the way his chest swelled, hearing that she’d remembered his old school house. Not to mention the miss-beat of his pulse as she leant back in her chair with a self-satisfied smile, her slip of a dress riding up one creamy thigh. He was trying hard to ignore the obvious: that his childhood's crush for this flame haired, wild hearted girl had not been effectively dowsed by time.
In an attempt to distract himself - and trying to look as though he had some clue as to how to proceed - Scorpius began to thumb through the file lying open on the desk. In truth, Rose had a valid point. He was struggling enough to jump through the necessary hoops for promotion without pissing off the co-chief of the Auror department. He straightened his collar and tried to think through the haze of revisited puberty.
“Where had you been immediately prior to the - er, the incident?”
Rose's grin widened at his obvious flush. "Sex isn't a dirty word anymore, Scorpius." She certainly seemed to be enjoying the young officer’s discomfort.
"Just answer the question, Miss Weasley."
She rolled her eyes. “The Leaky', where else?”
“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” He nodded at the black cocktail dress and string of blue-tipped pearls. Quite the picture of elegance, if only it wasn’t for the scruffy leather jacket and hair like a Doxy's nest.
She shrugged, “I came from a ministry party.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because it was a ministry party,” she muttered, sardonically.
Scorpius suppressed a smile. His parents had dragged him to enough of the blasted events over the years to be able to sympathize.
“This would be the launch party for your mother’s bid for Minister?”
“Correct,” she sighed, boredom evident. “Can we count on your vote, Officer?”
Scorpius pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking the name of the young man who fled the scene?” Rose rolled a fly-away curl between her fingers and stared at the ceiling. Scorpius sighed. “Do you even know his name?”
She smirked, “I’m sure it was something exotic.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Rose’s jaw twitched. “Look, just tell me what happens now. A fine? Community service? Or are you going to slap me in irons?”
Scorpius tried to return her firm stare but failed, sitting back in his chair with another exasperated sigh. Quite honestly he just didn’t get it. What was Rose Weasley - talented and most popular witch of her age - doing getting plastered, taking her knickers off in dark alleyways for strangers and getting herself arrested, apparently on multiple occasions? The whole thing left him with a bitter aftertaste, as if a giant piece of this bewitching, full-lipped, hungover puzzle were eluding him.
And, like any Ravenclaw worth his salt, Scorpius believed that no puzzle is really best left unsolved.
Scorpius chewed the inside of his cheek, an idea taking hold. It wasn’t really at his discretion to start offering defendants deals on their punishment, but he had a feeling Rose wasn’t about to learn her lesson by losing a few poxy galleons. Besides, he doubted anyone would go chasing up such a minor charge and even if they did, it wasn’t as though he could go any further down the ladder if he tried.
“How about,” he paused, making a last minute decision, “I just write you up with a warning and rush the paperwork through before your father has a chance to set eyes on it?”
Rose arched a slim eyebrow, finally coming in to focus on the tall, astute young man sat across from her. “And why on Earth would you do a thing like that?”
“Because, in exchange, you’re going to talk to me, answer my questions - off the record, of course.”
She let out a dark chuckle, “Oh, am I?”
“I think that’s a fair deal, don’t you?”
“Rather depends on the questions.”
He shrugged, feigning indifference, “Take it or leave it.”
It was Rose’s turn to be contemplative. She studied Scorpius’ face carefully, blue eyes seemingly unblinking, and making the young officer overwhelmingly self-conscious. Neither of them spoke for the longest moment and Scorpius felt as if he were engaged in a very serious game of Wizard's Chess, his opponent attempting to second guess him, several moves ahead.
If he didn't know any better, he might have worried he was blushing.
Finally, she nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever tells he had let slip and sat back in her chair. “Fine, on one condition.” Scorpius gestured for her to continue. “Tit for tat. For every question you ask me, I get to ask you one in return.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Off the record, of course,” she mocked.
“I don’t really think -,”
“Then lock me up, see if I care.”
The edge in her voice suggested that she certainly did care but then, he supposed, it was also probably obvious that he didn’t really want to. Good to see she still had her wits about her, Scorpius thought wryly.
He nodded, solemnly. “Alright then, but first…," he eyed her devilish grin. "I suspect I'm going to need to some caffeine.”
Rose simply laughed.
*
What in the name of Merlin's blue balls was he doing?
This thought, and others of a similar vein, had been circling Scorpius' mind for the past five minutes, as he watched Rose through the grimy, one-way Sneakoscope that had been fitted into a wall of interview room B. She was burning through yet another cigarette, red-stained lips plump around the filter and looking every bit as non-affected as she had all evening.
Circe, the girl was unshakeable. Easily the most insane - albeit attractive - person he had ever had the misfortune to arrest. She was the kind of girl his father would call a walking Wronski-Feint; she made your stomach flip and your head fuzzy - and he was about to go head to head with her in an unofficial round of twenty questions? It was exactly this kind of bad decision that Scorpius feared was keeping him down here doing grunt work.
At that moment, he would have liked to have been able to say that he was a man with tricks up his sleeve. That he had a plan, and an escape route, nicely mapped out. This, however, was blatantly untrue. He didn't know how to handle girls like Rose - never had done. He'd been a bumbling idiot around her in his Hogwarts days, and if he wasn't careful, it'd be no different in the grand confines of interview room B.
He should just let her go and get on with his shift… But then he didn’t really want to. That, at least, was certain - although his motive was questionable.
Steeling himself with another sip of Firebolt-fuel coffee, he quickly checked on Savage - who had thankfully found himself an unoccupied cell and decided now was a good time for a nap - and stepped back into the interview room.
Rose did a double take as he sat himself down across from her. "You've taken off your robes," she pouted, giving him a disappointed once-over. "Pity. I do so love a man in uniform."
Scorpius offered her his best uninterested stare, rolling up the sleeves of his white oxford. "I thought this might put us on more of an equal footing. Now, Miss Weasley -"
"Seeing as how you've decided to get undressed for me, do you think you might start calling me Rose?"
He steadfastly ignored her smirk. "Alright then, Rose. We've got twenty minutes before the end of my shift and you're free to go. Five questions each, anything goes, to be answered in complete honesty. Agreed?" Rose gave a slow nod. "Right, let’s start with something easy, shall we? Do you have a job?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Then how do you earn anything?”
She shrugged. “Mostly by blackmailing ministry officials with insider tips my mother passes on. From time to time, I steal from old hags and children. And on the odd occasion I find myself terribly desperate, I head down Knockturn Alley and flaunt my-"
"Look, if you're not going to take this seriously -,"
"Oh, alright, spoil sport," she grinned, tipping her chair back onto two legs, feet swinging. "Magazines pay me royalties every time they print my picture. I believe I’m what they call a minor celebrity, what with my parents and all.” She laughed as if she found the notion ridiculous. “And that’s technically two questions, but I'll let you off.”
Scorpius offered her a grim smile.
“My turn.” Her eyes flashed sadistically as she leant forward over the desk, staring at Scorpius in a mixture of intrigue and amusement. “When did you last get your end away?”
Scorpius' eyebrows shot skyward. “Merlin, you don’t half pull your punches, do you? I'm not answering that.”
“'Anything goes', you said, and rules are rules…”
He scoffed, cheeks flushing under the heat of the solitary light bulb overhead. “Work with me here, Rose -,”
“I’d rather not," she grinned, wickedly. "The hours are obviously atrocious and the people seem tedious. And I believe I asked you a question.”
The sheer enjoyment evident on Rose’s face was disconcerting to say the least, and Scorpius was once again faced with the foreboding realisation that a subtle game of wits might not be best played against such a brazen Gryffindor alumnus. Too late to back out now, though; he resisted the urge to curse.
“I suppose you’d say it’s been a while,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with his glasses.
“Are we talking weeks, months? Surely not...,” Rose’s eyes sparkled at his obvious grimace. “Over a year? Really?”
“Rose -,”
“Well, I’m actually very surprised! Tall, pretty, gainfully employed. How ever do they keep their hands off you?”
“Weasley! Enough!” Scorpius’ raised voice did nothing to stop the girlish peals of laughter now taunting him from across the table. He wasn't sure which was more embarrassing - having to admit to Rose Weasley that he was suffering something of a dry spell, or admit to himself that he was already in way over his head and the girl had only asked one question.
“My turn,” he growled, eyes darkening sharply. “I want to know every other offence that’s gotten you arrested; the ones that are so conveniently missing from your file.”
“You just will not let that go, will you?” Rose quieted with a breathy sigh. “Oh, fine. Well, it’s never anything serious. A few drunken misdemeanours, possession of ambiguously legal potions, five-finger discounts - that sort of thing. Apparently I punched Franco Zabini once in the middle of the Three Broomsticks,” she snorted in amusement. “I’m not exactly welcome there anymore.”
“Five-finger discounts? As in shoplifting?” Scorpius frowned.
Rose had the humility to look away, a hint of colour reaching her freckled cheeks. “I'd run out of Kneazle pellets and I’d left my purse at home.” Adding, insolently, as he caught her eye, “I’m not exactly proud of that one.”
Scorpius momentarily grappled with the image of all five-foot-four-inches worth of Rose trying to sneak a hulking bag of pet food out of Eeylops Emporium. "But why didn't you just -,"
"Ah!" She held up a silencing finger. Scorpius noticed idly that she was a nail-biter. "Tit for tat remember, Malfoy? Honestly, you shouldn't make up rules if you aren’t going to abide by them."
He had to physically bite his tongue to stop from pressing her for more of an explanation. "You know, Miss Weasley, the people I arrest aren't usually quite so full of themselves whilst still in custody."
She laughed, loudly. It was an uninhibited sound that did something strange to Scorpius' gut.
Swallowing quickly, he sat back in his chair. "Fire away, then."
"Hmm, let's see." Rose mirrored him and leant back in her seat, tipping her head to the side to study the blonde in thoughtful amusement. "Do you like your job, Officer Malfoy?" she asked, at last.
"Of course."
"Liar!" She launched herself forward again, gleefully, slapping her palm down on the table-top. “I bet this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you since that shag last decade!”
Scorpius laughed in spite of himself. "It isn't so bad…"
Rose quirked an eyebrow and offered him a smug smirk. "No? Then why is it that you haven't made it into the Hit Wizard ranks with Honours yet?"
"Perhaps my superiors don't think I'm up to the task."
"Bollocks! I'm sure you're more than clever enough. Well," she considered with a shrug, "you used to be, at least, and I don't think that's the sort of thing that wears off easily. If you bothered to apply yourself, I reckon you could do anything you wanted."
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. "That sounds an awful lot like the cauldron calling the kettle black."
Rose sniffed, uncaringly and looked away. "Perhaps. Your question, by the way. Only three left…"
Scorpius cursed, mentally. He still wasn't exactly sure what he'd been hoping to achieve by getting into this. Maybe he'd wanted to force Rose to face the reality of her destructive lifestyle, feel judged for her criminal behaviour. Maybe he'd just wanted to spend more time in a small, confined space with the girl. Either way he wasn't getting anywhere. He needed something that would knock the wind right out of her sails, something that would touch a nerve and unravel her tapestry of flippancy and bravado. He needed more time to think.
"Favourite colour?" he stalled.
Rose narrowed her eyes. "You're not playing properly."
"Neither are you if you don't answer the question."
She huffed, petulantly, "Purple," adding - just to make him squirm, he was sure: "Like my knickers."
"Very ladylike," he muttered, wanly. "Would you like to know mine?"
"The colour of your knickers? Certainly not. Tell me about your father."
"That's not a question." Though he was schooled not to show it, Scorpius felt his shoulders tense. Sore subject.
"We're in the middle of a very serious, mutual interrogation here, Officer Malfoy." Rose smirked. "Let's not quibble over semantics. So, your father?" she prompted again, a little too casually.
He cleared his throat. "Enjoys long walks in the Manor grounds with my mother, supports the Wimborne Wasps, allergic to peacock feathers, Gemini. Anything else?"
Rose's face lit up. "I'm a Libra. We're very compatible."
"I'll be sure to let him know. Speaking of family…" Scorpius was rewarded with an almost imperceptible flinch, as Rose sat a little straighter in her chair. "Your cousins, do they know the sorts of things you get up to?"
"Which ones?" She smiled, thinly. "You'll have to be more specific. I have quite a few, you see."
Scorpius shrugged. "Albus? Or, Louis, is it?"
"Actually, I don't see much of any of my family these days. Apart from official functions, of course."
He might not have been the rising star of the Department of Law Enforcement, nor have a remotely effective interrogation technique, but even Scorpius could see the sudden change in Rose's demeanour. Her posture had gone stiff, eyes downcast and she had lost that fiery spark, the one that had lit up her face, and the room - and Scorpius' entire night - only seconds before. Gotcha, he thought, soberly.
"Why not?" he pressed.
"Busy schedules, people change," she shrugged, irritably. "I don't know. My turn, anyway -,"
"No, it's not. You're breaking the rules."
Rose looked up, sharply. "What?"
"'All questions to be answered in complete honesty.' And I think you do know. Why is it you don't see your family anymore?"
"Oh, please!" she scoffed, affronted. "As if you told me anything remotely truthful about your dad! I mean, peacock feathers, really?"
Scorpius scowled. "I'll have you know, my father is deathly allergic to the plumage of the peafowl. Check for yourself if you like, though I'd advise against it -,"
She narrowed her eyes. "That was an arse-wipe of an answer, Malfoy, and you know it."
They glared at each other across the desk - stalemate, in their little game of mental Chess. Scorpius cursed internally, this was exactly the kind of sticky situation he had feared, and really ought to have expected to find himself in with someone like Rose. The girl was obviously still as devious and astute as ever, despite what her laissez-faire attitude to her own life might suggest, and just as he had honed in on a potential chink in her amour, so had she - somewhat more underhandedly - identified his.
So, what now? He thought carefully, searching, grey eyes never leaving Rose's face as she scrutinized his in return. He could fold, call it a draw and let them both off easily. Or, he could stick the knife in and twist, and expect to be beaten black and blue in return. In the end, he supposed the question came down to this: how much was he, Scorpius Malfoy, willing to risk sharing in order to learn more about the enigma that was Rose Weasley?
To him, the answer was startlingly obvious.
After a long moment, Scorpius took a deep breath and spoke. "People are…" he chose his words with deliberate care, "fascinated with my father. I'm not sure why. "
Rose folded her arms, sullenly, but her interest was evident enough. "I could think of a few dozen reasons, if you'd like a list-,"
"Everyone knows what he did in the War, yes," he cut her off, tersely. "Most even know the reasons why. But that’s not what I meant."
She cocked an eyebrow and allowed another silent second to pass. "Then enlighten me."
Scorpius shifted in his chair. This wasn't something he liked to discuss with…well, anyone. It wasn't even something he allowed himself to think about most of the time. He ran an agitated hand through white-blond hair, avoiding Rose's all-knowing gaze. Merlin, it was as if she used Veritaserum for eye-drops.
But he'd chewed over his words long enough. "It's more as though they're obsessed with his life now, with his future. Like they're always watching him to see what he'll do next. Whether it's about the business, or his personal life, it's incessant. Articles in The Prophet, looks in the street - he still gets it all and it's been almost thirty years." Scorpius shook his head in bewilderment. Rose watched him intently.
"I used to think it was just suspicion," he continued. "That people were afraid he might still be up to something…dark, trying to fill Voldemort's evil shoes… I don't know," he smiled slightly when Rose snorted. "But it's more than that. I think they're waiting for him to make it up to them all, somehow. To do something to exonerate himself, 'repay his debt to society', or however you want to put it. But the catch is, I worry it'll never be enough; no matter how much he donates to the Foundation for Goblin Rights or Advancing Muggle Liasons or whatever, they'll always want a galleon more. Does that make any sense?"
And then he quickly shut his mouth, because of course it didn’t make sense. Not to Rose Weasley, daughter of heroes and member of the only family in England with a national holiday named after them. (Was Weasley Day the twelfth or thirteenth of March? He never could remember…) He sat back in his chair and started to count ceiling tiles to fight his mounting frustration.
"You're very protective of him, aren't you? Your father, I mean."
Scorpius blinked in surprise and zeroed in on Rose, who was still giving him that intuitive, blue-eyed stare - did the girl ever blink? - and chewing on her lower lip.
"I, err - why do you say that?"
"Because it makes you angry, that they expect so much from him. That and the fact that you hate your job."
Scorpius half laughed, then clocked her expression and realised she was being serious. "Sorry, you've lost me."
Rose sighed and leant forward in her chair, inexplicably reaching over to slide his glasses off his nose with careful fingers.
"Well, think about it…" Scorpius watched, half transfixed, as she carefully blew a puff of air onto each lens and wiped them clean on the hem of her dress. "You're stuck doing a job that you obviously don't enjoy and, no offence, are pretty terrible at, and yet you're smart enough to have earned yourself a seriously hefty salary in any financial or political office in the world, if you'd wanted."
She handed him his glasses back without another word. As he fumbled to put them back on, Scorpius wondered briefly if he should mention that such an invasion of personal space could probably be considered assaulting an officer, but thought better of it when he realised she'd probably get a kick out of the idea.
"What's your point, Rose?" he muttered, dazedly.
"My point, Scorpius, is that the only advantage I can see to you joining the Plod Squad and working your backside off for a measly wage, all the while having to put up with hardened criminals like myself, is that it would certainly go a long way to restoring your father's good name. The next Dark Lord can't exactly sire our Law Enforcement's finest, now can he?"
He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Even if that were true, my father would never have asked me to-,"
"I'm sure he didn’t," Rose shrugged. "But then, I don't think he would have had to. Like I said, you're very protective of him."
Scorpius sat back in his seat with a glower, more than a little perturbed. Being so accurately psychoanalysed by someone who'd really only known you for less than two hours was a rather disorientating experience. It was rather like being back in the heady confines of their old Divination classroom. Tellingly, that was the one subject in which Scorpius had only ever managed a rather pathetic D for Dreadful.
"And do you know what the worst part is?" Rose broke him from his reverie. "There's something else out there that you were supposed to be destined for, something you'd be brilliant at. You can't live your life for someone else, Scorpius, no matter how unfair theirs has turned out to be."
"And this is yours then, is it?" he arched an eyebrow, accusingly. "Your destiny? Stealing pet food and spending nights behind bars…"
"Who knows?" she muttered, airily.
"No, come on - we've unearthed my unhealthy family dynamics and its tit for tat, remember, Weasley?"
She smiled, humourlessly. "The things I do have nothing to do with my family-,"
"Neither did my career choice up until about two minutes ago," he countered. He was getting better at this, he noted idly.
It was Rose's turn to shift uncomfortably. For a brief, wildly indulgent moment, Scorpius imagined he might be having the same effect on her as she had always done on him, especially when he noticed the beginnings of a hot-pink blush creeping up her neck. He dismissed it almost as quickly however, under the banner of wishful thinking.
Rose, for her part, now seemed to be doing an excellent job of pretending Scorpius didn’t exist. She stared at the wood grains in the desk, the crack in the floor tiles, the odd brown stain on the far wall - everywhere except at the face she had been scrutinizing so carefully for the past half hour. Scorpius was almost about to check he hadn't inadvertently cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, when suddenly, she spoke.
"You know, I didn't have to steal that bag of pet food. I only live about two streets down; I could have easily gone home to grab my purse. In fact, if I'd just told the shop assistant my name, he'd have probably given me the whole bloody lot for free."
"But you didn’t do either."
"No. I didn’t do either." Rose studied her hands, curled up in her lap. Scorpius took the opportunity to study the tangles in her hair, and imagine what it would be like to run his fingers through them. He had to quickly divert his gaze when she looked up sharply, "You asked me why I don't see my family very often. Have you ever met any of my cousins, since we left school?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid you're the only member of your family I've had the pleasure of arresting."
She made an odd sound; something between a grunt and a laugh. "Yes, well, they're all very famous. And not just because of their last names. Al, for instance, is the youngest Healer-in-Charge St Mungo's has ever employed. Molly - that's my Uncle Percy's eldest, she was three years above us at Hogwarts - she's now my mother's official campaign manager and Victoire - well, you'll know about her, of course."
Scorpius wracked his brain. "She's the face of my father's new cosmetic potion range…" It was starting to click.
"Even Hugo, my younger brother, is currently the highest scoring Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados and he didn't even finish his NEWT's for Merlin's sake!" Rose was glaring at a spot on the wall over Scorpius' head. He clocked her hands, which had clenched into tight balls on the table. "They're all out there doing something and I'm here doing…doing…"
"Strangers in alleyways?" he offered.
"I was going to say nothing, but yes, thank you," Rose shot him a withering look. "And it's not just about a job. Relationships too, they've all got that down to a fine art. Teddy and Vic are engaged, James has moved in with his harpy of a girlfriend, Louis and his "life partner" are effortlessly happy…" her tone stung with bitterness. "And who do I have?"
"Strangers in alleyways," they answered in unison. Rose rolled her eyes and smiled across at him, sadly.
Scorpius imagined that, if he were dealing with anyone else, this would be the point that he might be expected to impart some wisdom or motivational nonsense. Lucky then, that Rose had already established for the both of them that he was as much a life failure as she apparently was. Besides, something told him that Rose wasn't the sort of person who took kindly to molly-coddling.
Instead, he opted for an all-business approach. "I think I'm beginning to see the connection to your blossoming rap sheet."
"Oh yes?" she exhaled deeply, the air leaving her body in one dramatic whoosh, and making her frame seem overly small.
"I have a theory, at least."
Rose smiled. "Of course you do, silly Ravenclaw." Scorpius felt her knee bump his under the desk. He didn’t move his away. "Well, then, don't keep me in suspense."
"Has it occurred to you that you might be a lost woman, Rose Weasley? That maybe you do these ridiculous things to try and find meaning in your life and rebel against the expectations placed on you by society as a daughter of war heroes, and yourself, through comparison to your relatives?"
Rose took a second to process this. Then promptly burst out laughing. "Blimey, that's a bit deep!" she snorted, blue eyes wide with mirth. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I just get bored?"
Scorpius frowned. "Most people read a book when they're bored. They don’t go down to the local pub for a brawl."
"You've never met my Uncle Charlie," she muttered.
"No, I haven't," he said, firmly. "But I'd like to. I'd like to meet all of your family, actually, because then I might be able to figure out where and how it's all gone wrong, what it is that makes them well-adjusted witches and wizards, and you a behavioural train-wreck."
"Charming. You could also ask my dad for a promotion, whilst you’re there," she quipped, but it lacked the necessary malice.
Still, Scorpius sighed, leaning back in his chair and hoping the added space between them would temper the urge to grab her by those defiant shoulders and shake - maybe give her a quick snog - and then shake some more.
He chanced a look over her head at the clock on the wall. His shift had ended well over ten minutes ago - if he wasn't careful some other officer might take a peek into interview room B, and want to know why he was currently illegally detaining the Co-Chief Auror's daughter. A pretty valid question really, the past half hour considered.
Time to wrap things up.
Technically, he supposed he'd got what he wanted: an explanation of sorts, even if Rose couldn't own up to it herself just yet. He'd solved his puzzle but it still left him feeling wretchedly unsatisfied.
Resigned, Scorpius fixed Rose with one final, level stare. "By my reckoning, you've got one question left, Weasley. Best make it count."
"Still playing that little game, are we? Hmm," Rose made a show out of taking her time, lounging back in her chair and tapping her chin with one nail-bitten finger. And then, she knocked him for six: "Are you working tomorrow night?"
It took him a moment to gather himself. "Why, planning on getting yourself arrested again?"
She laughed and pretended to consider it. "Actually, I'm going to a party. I think you should come."
"I can't imagine you and I share the same definition of a party."
"Relax," she rolled her eyes. "It's just James' housewarming. Unless you take offence to over-achievers, there won’t be anything there too morally-questionable for you, Officer."
He found himself grinning at her. She grinned back. "So, you'll come?"
"I'll -," In a brief flash of clarity, Scorpius realised that this was the first step on a path that was inevitably going to get him fired. "I'll be there. Definitely," he finished.
Beaming, Rose snatched the nib-end of a broken quill out of the bag of her personal effects and scribbled a Floo address and time across the front of her long-forgotten file. Trying very hard not to look too pleased with himself, Scorpius stood and opened the door.
"You're free to go, Miss Weasley," he failed to suppress a smirk as she swept past him, her shoulder knocking his, playfully.
"And to think, all this time being brutally interrogated, and all I had to do was give you my number. Oh," she paused in the corridor, turning to look at him in mock-innocent surprise. "And, do you realise? We've just spent the entire night together, and I haven't been wearing any knickers. That might just count as you ending that awful dry spell…"
That time, Scorpius knew for certain he must have blushed.
*
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Author: enchantedteapot
Prompt: 020. No one expected the [hero’s] daughter to sin, but they sure would love to catch me at it. - Abbi Glines
Summary: Rose gets arrested; Scorpius is the arresting officer. An interrogation of sorts ensues.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Brief mentions to sexual activity. Bad language.
Word Count: 6,700
A/N: Muchas gracias to my last-second beta H.E. and also to L for the offer! Notes: A) In regards to Scorpius' actual job in this, going off the description of the D.L.E. here, I felt that there was likely to be another, much less exciting division beneath the Auror department that would deal with the petty, muggle-esque street crimes as described. Scorpius is therefore an officer of this lowly rank! B) There is an awful lot of talking in this fic. Literally, they never stop. It's basically one giant convo. Apologies if you like your Rose/Scorp a little more active. Enjoy!
When young Officer Malfoy had first been put on the Saturday night, Diagon Alley beat, he had resigned himself to a wearing evening of breaking up drunken brawls, chasing off would-be dealers and listening to the middle-aged despairings of his patrol partner, Savage. Never had he imagined that such a miserable February evening would be the first time in over four years that he set eyes on one Miss Rose Weasley. And he’d certainly seen a lot more of her than he’d bargained for.
He’d rounded the corner of Twillfit & Tatting’s a few yards ahead of Savage, who had been in the middle of a rather long moan about his on-going divorce, but had been stopped, dead in his tracks, frozen by the very sight of her.
Rose Weasley, in all her glory. Unmistakably going at it with an unidentified, tall, dark stranger.
Scorpius’ reaction times must have been getting slower with age, he concluded, because for about thirty mesmerizing seconds, he could do nothing but stare at the red-head. Her eyes were closed, head tilted back so that her cinnamon curls splayed out across the grimy bricks of the disused alleyway. Her mouth was open, lips gently parted and muttering words that Scorpius couldn’t hear against the sweaty neck of her companion, skirt bunched up around her waist.
Scorpius had only just managed to rouse himself as Savage came wheezing along behind him, illuminating the scene with his wand and brandishing his Officer’s badge. The man had taken one look at Scorpius’ patrol squad robes and scarpered, letting Rose collapse in a heap on the wet cobbles, where she had first burst out laughing... and then promptly passed out.
And so it was that the young, would-be Auror found himself filling out the necessary mountain of paperwork, whilst his charge - a comatose Rose Weasley - slept off the night-before in the comfort of a jail cell.
There was hardly anyone else on duty that night and, as arresting officer, it would be Scorpius’ job to process all of the defendant’s details. He hesitated over the box requiring Description of Incident, wondering if he could just write ‘indecent exposure’ and leave it at that. The memory of her arrest brought a fresh flush to his cheeks and he pushed his glasses further up his nose. It wasn’t exactly usual for him to be such a prude over these matters, but with each reverberating snore that erupted down the hallway, Scorpius was finding it harder to keep his personal thoughts - and feelings - in check.
He could remember Rose from Hogwarts, of course - doubted anyone could forget the vivacious young Gryffindor with a penchant for trouble making, and who had terrorised the day-dreams of hormone addled, male students for the better part of her high school education.
Scorpius was trying very hard not to think about his own one-time soft spot, as he documented each of her personal effects, including one pair of lacy purple knickers, found stuffed into a pocket of her leather jacket. Indeed, his standards of professionalism wouldn’t allow him to recall the days he had counted himself as one of her many admirers, failing almost every class they shared and trying to pluck up the courage to ask her out on a Hogsmeade weekend. Needless to say, he never came close.
No, Rose Weasley had always been one of a kind - up on a plinth - somewhere the likes of boring old Ravenclaws and President of the Arithmancy Club couldn’t quite reach. Now, however, she was curled up on a metal cot in a tiny cubic room that smelt disconcertingly of urine and, quite honestly, Scorpius was baffled.
True, Rose had always been an all round poster child for mischief, if his memory served him, tearing about with her cousins, Albus and Louis - or was it that Fred bloke? - and causing his fellow prefects no end of grief. But that was child's play, skipped curfews and exploding toilet seats and daring attempts to break into the Slytherin dungeons without any sincere plan of what to do when they actually succeeded.
Getting yourself banged up? Now that was something else entirely.
*
“Scorpius Malfoy!”
Two hours later and he was confronted with the beautiful wreck herself as he entered the dimly lit interview room. Rose, hair an uncombed mess and a charcoal mascara smudge beneath one eye, was grinning broadly and attempting to lean over the interview desk and embrace him. Scorpius stood there stiffly, Rose just about managing to grab a hold of his shoulders and give a tight squeeze.
He nodded, curtly, and motioned for her to take a seat, laying down an official looking file and handing her back her belongings which he’d placed carefully inside a clear plastic bag.
“I remember my dad saying something about you joining the force,” she rambled animatedly, without so much as a blush as she fished out her knickers, wedging them back inside a pocket. He supposed the gallon of Pepper-Up Potion she’d downed as soon as she’d regained consciousness must be finally kicking in.
“Still down here on foot patrol, are you? I’d have thought someone like you might have at least made it up to Auror training by now.”
Scorpius blinked quickly, mildly surprised by the combination of pleasure and embarrassment he derived, hearing that he had - at least at one time or another - been a topic of conversation over the Weasley dinner table, and that it was so clearly apparent to others that he was still going nowhere within his chosen career path.
Rose was rifling through the clear plastic bag again, finally pulling out her wand and a well-thumbed pack of Malboro Lights.
“You can’t smoke those in -,”
“Listen, Scorp. Can I call you Scorp?” She took a long, deep drag from her newly lit cigarette.
Scorpius frowned. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“The others never really bothered with this whole ‘official paper-work’ malarkey.” She pulled a face, as if formal procedure were something he had invented for his own amusement. “So why don’t we just call it a night? It’s really, very late and I’m sure you have a dozen other things you need to get on with. And, to be honest,” she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, leaning in towards him, “I could really do with a shower.”
Scorpius certainly couldn’t argue with that. His nose wrinkled at the strong scent of firewhiskey her breath left in the air between them, and the deep musk emanating off her clothes - reeking of sweat, foreign cologne and a general wild night - had him squirming in his seat.
“Miss Weasley-,”
“Call me Rose,” she beamed at him, quickly.
“Miss Weasley. You’ve been arrested. Do you understand why you’re here?” He offered her the sternest stare he could muster, faltering only slightly as she began to chew on her bottom lip. “And what do you mean ‘others’? It doesn’t say anything here about you being brought in before.”
“Really?” She leant over the desk, obscuring Scorpius’ view of her file with a mane of tangled, red hair. “Excellent. Can I go then?”
Scorpius whipped the file off the table and ground his teeth together in frustration. “Miss Weasley, this is a very serious matter. I don’t know what treatment you have received from my colleagues in the past but I can assure you -,”
“Would we say ‘very serious’?” she interrupted, propping herself up on her elbows.
He blinked, uncertainly. “Well… you’ve broken the law.”
“Oh, but I’ve always thought that was a very silly law.” Rose grinned, coquettishly.
With her lively blue eyes and dimpled, freckled cheeks, Scorpius instantly found himself staring back at her seventeen year old alter-ego. Even then, he remembered ruefully, Rose had always made it very hard to be professional.
Steeling himself with a quick straighten of his Officer's badge - a reminder to all that he was supposedly in charge here - Scorpius attempted to coolly meet her stare. "A shame then, that you were not consulted during our country's legislative process. Now, Miss Weasley -,"
“Rose.”
He ignored her. “Why don’t you start by telling me what other offences you’ve been brought in for recently?”
Rose snorted, somewhat unattractively, coughing as she inhaled a mouthful of smoke too quickly. “And why in Merlin’s name would I do a thing like that?" she laughed. "You know, you really ought to work on your interrogation technique.”
That pinched a nerve. He could remember reading a similar statement on his last, sub-par performance review and he certainly didn’t need the girl of his adolescent fantasies jumping on that bandwagon.
“Then tell me why the other officers failed to report anything?” he snapped, snatching the cigarette from between her fingers and stubbing it out roughly on the table-top. Rose quirked an eyebrow at the singe mark left in the wood.
“Well," she answered, carefully, "I imagine it had something to do with my father.”
Scorpius frowned, “Chief Auror Weasley?”
“Mmm. The others probably had the good sense not to go telling tales on their boss’ daughter.”
Scorpius stiffened, grey eyes narrowing as he stared at the young woman across the desk. She held his gaze, her blue stare playful, and bribed him with a teasing smile.
“Would that be a not-so-subtle threat, Miss Weasley?”
“Of course not, Officer Malfoy." She pursed her lips as if to fight off a grin. "I'm merely pointing out the most logical explanation behind your colleagues' oversight. Really, as a pillar of Ravenclaw, I'm surprised you missed it."
Scorpius could have kicked himself for the way his chest swelled, hearing that she’d remembered his old school house. Not to mention the miss-beat of his pulse as she leant back in her chair with a self-satisfied smile, her slip of a dress riding up one creamy thigh. He was trying hard to ignore the obvious: that his childhood's crush for this flame haired, wild hearted girl had not been effectively dowsed by time.
In an attempt to distract himself - and trying to look as though he had some clue as to how to proceed - Scorpius began to thumb through the file lying open on the desk. In truth, Rose had a valid point. He was struggling enough to jump through the necessary hoops for promotion without pissing off the co-chief of the Auror department. He straightened his collar and tried to think through the haze of revisited puberty.
“Where had you been immediately prior to the - er, the incident?”
Rose's grin widened at his obvious flush. "Sex isn't a dirty word anymore, Scorpius." She certainly seemed to be enjoying the young officer’s discomfort.
"Just answer the question, Miss Weasley."
She rolled her eyes. “The Leaky', where else?”
“Aren’t you a little overdressed?” He nodded at the black cocktail dress and string of blue-tipped pearls. Quite the picture of elegance, if only it wasn’t for the scruffy leather jacket and hair like a Doxy's nest.
She shrugged, “I came from a ministry party.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because it was a ministry party,” she muttered, sardonically.
Scorpius suppressed a smile. His parents had dragged him to enough of the blasted events over the years to be able to sympathize.
“This would be the launch party for your mother’s bid for Minister?”
“Correct,” she sighed, boredom evident. “Can we count on your vote, Officer?”
Scorpius pushed his glasses further up his nose. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking the name of the young man who fled the scene?” Rose rolled a fly-away curl between her fingers and stared at the ceiling. Scorpius sighed. “Do you even know his name?”
She smirked, “I’m sure it was something exotic.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Rose’s jaw twitched. “Look, just tell me what happens now. A fine? Community service? Or are you going to slap me in irons?”
Scorpius tried to return her firm stare but failed, sitting back in his chair with another exasperated sigh. Quite honestly he just didn’t get it. What was Rose Weasley - talented and most popular witch of her age - doing getting plastered, taking her knickers off in dark alleyways for strangers and getting herself arrested, apparently on multiple occasions? The whole thing left him with a bitter aftertaste, as if a giant piece of this bewitching, full-lipped, hungover puzzle were eluding him.
And, like any Ravenclaw worth his salt, Scorpius believed that no puzzle is really best left unsolved.
Scorpius chewed the inside of his cheek, an idea taking hold. It wasn’t really at his discretion to start offering defendants deals on their punishment, but he had a feeling Rose wasn’t about to learn her lesson by losing a few poxy galleons. Besides, he doubted anyone would go chasing up such a minor charge and even if they did, it wasn’t as though he could go any further down the ladder if he tried.
“How about,” he paused, making a last minute decision, “I just write you up with a warning and rush the paperwork through before your father has a chance to set eyes on it?”
Rose arched a slim eyebrow, finally coming in to focus on the tall, astute young man sat across from her. “And why on Earth would you do a thing like that?”
“Because, in exchange, you’re going to talk to me, answer my questions - off the record, of course.”
She let out a dark chuckle, “Oh, am I?”
“I think that’s a fair deal, don’t you?”
“Rather depends on the questions.”
He shrugged, feigning indifference, “Take it or leave it.”
It was Rose’s turn to be contemplative. She studied Scorpius’ face carefully, blue eyes seemingly unblinking, and making the young officer overwhelmingly self-conscious. Neither of them spoke for the longest moment and Scorpius felt as if he were engaged in a very serious game of Wizard's Chess, his opponent attempting to second guess him, several moves ahead.
If he didn't know any better, he might have worried he was blushing.
Finally, she nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever tells he had let slip and sat back in her chair. “Fine, on one condition.” Scorpius gestured for her to continue. “Tit for tat. For every question you ask me, I get to ask you one in return.”
He quirked an eyebrow.
“Off the record, of course,” she mocked.
“I don’t really think -,”
“Then lock me up, see if I care.”
The edge in her voice suggested that she certainly did care but then, he supposed, it was also probably obvious that he didn’t really want to. Good to see she still had her wits about her, Scorpius thought wryly.
He nodded, solemnly. “Alright then, but first…," he eyed her devilish grin. "I suspect I'm going to need to some caffeine.”
Rose simply laughed.
*
What in the name of Merlin's blue balls was he doing?
This thought, and others of a similar vein, had been circling Scorpius' mind for the past five minutes, as he watched Rose through the grimy, one-way Sneakoscope that had been fitted into a wall of interview room B. She was burning through yet another cigarette, red-stained lips plump around the filter and looking every bit as non-affected as she had all evening.
Circe, the girl was unshakeable. Easily the most insane - albeit attractive - person he had ever had the misfortune to arrest. She was the kind of girl his father would call a walking Wronski-Feint; she made your stomach flip and your head fuzzy - and he was about to go head to head with her in an unofficial round of twenty questions? It was exactly this kind of bad decision that Scorpius feared was keeping him down here doing grunt work.
At that moment, he would have liked to have been able to say that he was a man with tricks up his sleeve. That he had a plan, and an escape route, nicely mapped out. This, however, was blatantly untrue. He didn't know how to handle girls like Rose - never had done. He'd been a bumbling idiot around her in his Hogwarts days, and if he wasn't careful, it'd be no different in the grand confines of interview room B.
He should just let her go and get on with his shift… But then he didn’t really want to. That, at least, was certain - although his motive was questionable.
Steeling himself with another sip of Firebolt-fuel coffee, he quickly checked on Savage - who had thankfully found himself an unoccupied cell and decided now was a good time for a nap - and stepped back into the interview room.
Rose did a double take as he sat himself down across from her. "You've taken off your robes," she pouted, giving him a disappointed once-over. "Pity. I do so love a man in uniform."
Scorpius offered her his best uninterested stare, rolling up the sleeves of his white oxford. "I thought this might put us on more of an equal footing. Now, Miss Weasley -"
"Seeing as how you've decided to get undressed for me, do you think you might start calling me Rose?"
He steadfastly ignored her smirk. "Alright then, Rose. We've got twenty minutes before the end of my shift and you're free to go. Five questions each, anything goes, to be answered in complete honesty. Agreed?" Rose gave a slow nod. "Right, let’s start with something easy, shall we? Do you have a job?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Then how do you earn anything?”
She shrugged. “Mostly by blackmailing ministry officials with insider tips my mother passes on. From time to time, I steal from old hags and children. And on the odd occasion I find myself terribly desperate, I head down Knockturn Alley and flaunt my-"
"Look, if you're not going to take this seriously -,"
"Oh, alright, spoil sport," she grinned, tipping her chair back onto two legs, feet swinging. "Magazines pay me royalties every time they print my picture. I believe I’m what they call a minor celebrity, what with my parents and all.” She laughed as if she found the notion ridiculous. “And that’s technically two questions, but I'll let you off.”
Scorpius offered her a grim smile.
“My turn.” Her eyes flashed sadistically as she leant forward over the desk, staring at Scorpius in a mixture of intrigue and amusement. “When did you last get your end away?”
Scorpius' eyebrows shot skyward. “Merlin, you don’t half pull your punches, do you? I'm not answering that.”
“'Anything goes', you said, and rules are rules…”
He scoffed, cheeks flushing under the heat of the solitary light bulb overhead. “Work with me here, Rose -,”
“I’d rather not," she grinned, wickedly. "The hours are obviously atrocious and the people seem tedious. And I believe I asked you a question.”
The sheer enjoyment evident on Rose’s face was disconcerting to say the least, and Scorpius was once again faced with the foreboding realisation that a subtle game of wits might not be best played against such a brazen Gryffindor alumnus. Too late to back out now, though; he resisted the urge to curse.
“I suppose you’d say it’s been a while,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably and fidgeting with his glasses.
“Are we talking weeks, months? Surely not...,” Rose’s eyes sparkled at his obvious grimace. “Over a year? Really?”
“Rose -,”
“Well, I’m actually very surprised! Tall, pretty, gainfully employed. How ever do they keep their hands off you?”
“Weasley! Enough!” Scorpius’ raised voice did nothing to stop the girlish peals of laughter now taunting him from across the table. He wasn't sure which was more embarrassing - having to admit to Rose Weasley that he was suffering something of a dry spell, or admit to himself that he was already in way over his head and the girl had only asked one question.
“My turn,” he growled, eyes darkening sharply. “I want to know every other offence that’s gotten you arrested; the ones that are so conveniently missing from your file.”
“You just will not let that go, will you?” Rose quieted with a breathy sigh. “Oh, fine. Well, it’s never anything serious. A few drunken misdemeanours, possession of ambiguously legal potions, five-finger discounts - that sort of thing. Apparently I punched Franco Zabini once in the middle of the Three Broomsticks,” she snorted in amusement. “I’m not exactly welcome there anymore.”
“Five-finger discounts? As in shoplifting?” Scorpius frowned.
Rose had the humility to look away, a hint of colour reaching her freckled cheeks. “I'd run out of Kneazle pellets and I’d left my purse at home.” Adding, insolently, as he caught her eye, “I’m not exactly proud of that one.”
Scorpius momentarily grappled with the image of all five-foot-four-inches worth of Rose trying to sneak a hulking bag of pet food out of Eeylops Emporium. "But why didn't you just -,"
"Ah!" She held up a silencing finger. Scorpius noticed idly that she was a nail-biter. "Tit for tat remember, Malfoy? Honestly, you shouldn't make up rules if you aren’t going to abide by them."
He had to physically bite his tongue to stop from pressing her for more of an explanation. "You know, Miss Weasley, the people I arrest aren't usually quite so full of themselves whilst still in custody."
She laughed, loudly. It was an uninhibited sound that did something strange to Scorpius' gut.
Swallowing quickly, he sat back in his chair. "Fire away, then."
"Hmm, let's see." Rose mirrored him and leant back in her seat, tipping her head to the side to study the blonde in thoughtful amusement. "Do you like your job, Officer Malfoy?" she asked, at last.
"Of course."
"Liar!" She launched herself forward again, gleefully, slapping her palm down on the table-top. “I bet this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you since that shag last decade!”
Scorpius laughed in spite of himself. "It isn't so bad…"
Rose quirked an eyebrow and offered him a smug smirk. "No? Then why is it that you haven't made it into the Hit Wizard ranks with Honours yet?"
"Perhaps my superiors don't think I'm up to the task."
"Bollocks! I'm sure you're more than clever enough. Well," she considered with a shrug, "you used to be, at least, and I don't think that's the sort of thing that wears off easily. If you bothered to apply yourself, I reckon you could do anything you wanted."
He arched an eyebrow in surprise. "That sounds an awful lot like the cauldron calling the kettle black."
Rose sniffed, uncaringly and looked away. "Perhaps. Your question, by the way. Only three left…"
Scorpius cursed, mentally. He still wasn't exactly sure what he'd been hoping to achieve by getting into this. Maybe he'd wanted to force Rose to face the reality of her destructive lifestyle, feel judged for her criminal behaviour. Maybe he'd just wanted to spend more time in a small, confined space with the girl. Either way he wasn't getting anywhere. He needed something that would knock the wind right out of her sails, something that would touch a nerve and unravel her tapestry of flippancy and bravado. He needed more time to think.
"Favourite colour?" he stalled.
Rose narrowed her eyes. "You're not playing properly."
"Neither are you if you don't answer the question."
She huffed, petulantly, "Purple," adding - just to make him squirm, he was sure: "Like my knickers."
"Very ladylike," he muttered, wanly. "Would you like to know mine?"
"The colour of your knickers? Certainly not. Tell me about your father."
"That's not a question." Though he was schooled not to show it, Scorpius felt his shoulders tense. Sore subject.
"We're in the middle of a very serious, mutual interrogation here, Officer Malfoy." Rose smirked. "Let's not quibble over semantics. So, your father?" she prompted again, a little too casually.
He cleared his throat. "Enjoys long walks in the Manor grounds with my mother, supports the Wimborne Wasps, allergic to peacock feathers, Gemini. Anything else?"
Rose's face lit up. "I'm a Libra. We're very compatible."
"I'll be sure to let him know. Speaking of family…" Scorpius was rewarded with an almost imperceptible flinch, as Rose sat a little straighter in her chair. "Your cousins, do they know the sorts of things you get up to?"
"Which ones?" She smiled, thinly. "You'll have to be more specific. I have quite a few, you see."
Scorpius shrugged. "Albus? Or, Louis, is it?"
"Actually, I don't see much of any of my family these days. Apart from official functions, of course."
He might not have been the rising star of the Department of Law Enforcement, nor have a remotely effective interrogation technique, but even Scorpius could see the sudden change in Rose's demeanour. Her posture had gone stiff, eyes downcast and she had lost that fiery spark, the one that had lit up her face, and the room - and Scorpius' entire night - only seconds before. Gotcha, he thought, soberly.
"Why not?" he pressed.
"Busy schedules, people change," she shrugged, irritably. "I don't know. My turn, anyway -,"
"No, it's not. You're breaking the rules."
Rose looked up, sharply. "What?"
"'All questions to be answered in complete honesty.' And I think you do know. Why is it you don't see your family anymore?"
"Oh, please!" she scoffed, affronted. "As if you told me anything remotely truthful about your dad! I mean, peacock feathers, really?"
Scorpius scowled. "I'll have you know, my father is deathly allergic to the plumage of the peafowl. Check for yourself if you like, though I'd advise against it -,"
She narrowed her eyes. "That was an arse-wipe of an answer, Malfoy, and you know it."
They glared at each other across the desk - stalemate, in their little game of mental Chess. Scorpius cursed internally, this was exactly the kind of sticky situation he had feared, and really ought to have expected to find himself in with someone like Rose. The girl was obviously still as devious and astute as ever, despite what her laissez-faire attitude to her own life might suggest, and just as he had honed in on a potential chink in her amour, so had she - somewhat more underhandedly - identified his.
So, what now? He thought carefully, searching, grey eyes never leaving Rose's face as she scrutinized his in return. He could fold, call it a draw and let them both off easily. Or, he could stick the knife in and twist, and expect to be beaten black and blue in return. In the end, he supposed the question came down to this: how much was he, Scorpius Malfoy, willing to risk sharing in order to learn more about the enigma that was Rose Weasley?
To him, the answer was startlingly obvious.
After a long moment, Scorpius took a deep breath and spoke. "People are…" he chose his words with deliberate care, "fascinated with my father. I'm not sure why. "
Rose folded her arms, sullenly, but her interest was evident enough. "I could think of a few dozen reasons, if you'd like a list-,"
"Everyone knows what he did in the War, yes," he cut her off, tersely. "Most even know the reasons why. But that’s not what I meant."
She cocked an eyebrow and allowed another silent second to pass. "Then enlighten me."
Scorpius shifted in his chair. This wasn't something he liked to discuss with…well, anyone. It wasn't even something he allowed himself to think about most of the time. He ran an agitated hand through white-blond hair, avoiding Rose's all-knowing gaze. Merlin, it was as if she used Veritaserum for eye-drops.
But he'd chewed over his words long enough. "It's more as though they're obsessed with his life now, with his future. Like they're always watching him to see what he'll do next. Whether it's about the business, or his personal life, it's incessant. Articles in The Prophet, looks in the street - he still gets it all and it's been almost thirty years." Scorpius shook his head in bewilderment. Rose watched him intently.
"I used to think it was just suspicion," he continued. "That people were afraid he might still be up to something…dark, trying to fill Voldemort's evil shoes… I don't know," he smiled slightly when Rose snorted. "But it's more than that. I think they're waiting for him to make it up to them all, somehow. To do something to exonerate himself, 'repay his debt to society', or however you want to put it. But the catch is, I worry it'll never be enough; no matter how much he donates to the Foundation for Goblin Rights or Advancing Muggle Liasons or whatever, they'll always want a galleon more. Does that make any sense?"
And then he quickly shut his mouth, because of course it didn’t make sense. Not to Rose Weasley, daughter of heroes and member of the only family in England with a national holiday named after them. (Was Weasley Day the twelfth or thirteenth of March? He never could remember…) He sat back in his chair and started to count ceiling tiles to fight his mounting frustration.
"You're very protective of him, aren't you? Your father, I mean."
Scorpius blinked in surprise and zeroed in on Rose, who was still giving him that intuitive, blue-eyed stare - did the girl ever blink? - and chewing on her lower lip.
"I, err - why do you say that?"
"Because it makes you angry, that they expect so much from him. That and the fact that you hate your job."
Scorpius half laughed, then clocked her expression and realised she was being serious. "Sorry, you've lost me."
Rose sighed and leant forward in her chair, inexplicably reaching over to slide his glasses off his nose with careful fingers.
"Well, think about it…" Scorpius watched, half transfixed, as she carefully blew a puff of air onto each lens and wiped them clean on the hem of her dress. "You're stuck doing a job that you obviously don't enjoy and, no offence, are pretty terrible at, and yet you're smart enough to have earned yourself a seriously hefty salary in any financial or political office in the world, if you'd wanted."
She handed him his glasses back without another word. As he fumbled to put them back on, Scorpius wondered briefly if he should mention that such an invasion of personal space could probably be considered assaulting an officer, but thought better of it when he realised she'd probably get a kick out of the idea.
"What's your point, Rose?" he muttered, dazedly.
"My point, Scorpius, is that the only advantage I can see to you joining the Plod Squad and working your backside off for a measly wage, all the while having to put up with hardened criminals like myself, is that it would certainly go a long way to restoring your father's good name. The next Dark Lord can't exactly sire our Law Enforcement's finest, now can he?"
He stared at her, slack-jawed. "Even if that were true, my father would never have asked me to-,"
"I'm sure he didn’t," Rose shrugged. "But then, I don't think he would have had to. Like I said, you're very protective of him."
Scorpius sat back in his seat with a glower, more than a little perturbed. Being so accurately psychoanalysed by someone who'd really only known you for less than two hours was a rather disorientating experience. It was rather like being back in the heady confines of their old Divination classroom. Tellingly, that was the one subject in which Scorpius had only ever managed a rather pathetic D for Dreadful.
"And do you know what the worst part is?" Rose broke him from his reverie. "There's something else out there that you were supposed to be destined for, something you'd be brilliant at. You can't live your life for someone else, Scorpius, no matter how unfair theirs has turned out to be."
"And this is yours then, is it?" he arched an eyebrow, accusingly. "Your destiny? Stealing pet food and spending nights behind bars…"
"Who knows?" she muttered, airily.
"No, come on - we've unearthed my unhealthy family dynamics and its tit for tat, remember, Weasley?"
She smiled, humourlessly. "The things I do have nothing to do with my family-,"
"Neither did my career choice up until about two minutes ago," he countered. He was getting better at this, he noted idly.
It was Rose's turn to shift uncomfortably. For a brief, wildly indulgent moment, Scorpius imagined he might be having the same effect on her as she had always done on him, especially when he noticed the beginnings of a hot-pink blush creeping up her neck. He dismissed it almost as quickly however, under the banner of wishful thinking.
Rose, for her part, now seemed to be doing an excellent job of pretending Scorpius didn’t exist. She stared at the wood grains in the desk, the crack in the floor tiles, the odd brown stain on the far wall - everywhere except at the face she had been scrutinizing so carefully for the past half hour. Scorpius was almost about to check he hadn't inadvertently cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, when suddenly, she spoke.
"You know, I didn't have to steal that bag of pet food. I only live about two streets down; I could have easily gone home to grab my purse. In fact, if I'd just told the shop assistant my name, he'd have probably given me the whole bloody lot for free."
"But you didn’t do either."
"No. I didn’t do either." Rose studied her hands, curled up in her lap. Scorpius took the opportunity to study the tangles in her hair, and imagine what it would be like to run his fingers through them. He had to quickly divert his gaze when she looked up sharply, "You asked me why I don't see my family very often. Have you ever met any of my cousins, since we left school?"
He shook his head. "I'm afraid you're the only member of your family I've had the pleasure of arresting."
She made an odd sound; something between a grunt and a laugh. "Yes, well, they're all very famous. And not just because of their last names. Al, for instance, is the youngest Healer-in-Charge St Mungo's has ever employed. Molly - that's my Uncle Percy's eldest, she was three years above us at Hogwarts - she's now my mother's official campaign manager and Victoire - well, you'll know about her, of course."
Scorpius wracked his brain. "She's the face of my father's new cosmetic potion range…" It was starting to click.
"Even Hugo, my younger brother, is currently the highest scoring Chaser for the Tutshill Tornados and he didn't even finish his NEWT's for Merlin's sake!" Rose was glaring at a spot on the wall over Scorpius' head. He clocked her hands, which had clenched into tight balls on the table. "They're all out there doing something and I'm here doing…doing…"
"Strangers in alleyways?" he offered.
"I was going to say nothing, but yes, thank you," Rose shot him a withering look. "And it's not just about a job. Relationships too, they've all got that down to a fine art. Teddy and Vic are engaged, James has moved in with his harpy of a girlfriend, Louis and his "life partner" are effortlessly happy…" her tone stung with bitterness. "And who do I have?"
"Strangers in alleyways," they answered in unison. Rose rolled her eyes and smiled across at him, sadly.
Scorpius imagined that, if he were dealing with anyone else, this would be the point that he might be expected to impart some wisdom or motivational nonsense. Lucky then, that Rose had already established for the both of them that he was as much a life failure as she apparently was. Besides, something told him that Rose wasn't the sort of person who took kindly to molly-coddling.
Instead, he opted for an all-business approach. "I think I'm beginning to see the connection to your blossoming rap sheet."
"Oh yes?" she exhaled deeply, the air leaving her body in one dramatic whoosh, and making her frame seem overly small.
"I have a theory, at least."
Rose smiled. "Of course you do, silly Ravenclaw." Scorpius felt her knee bump his under the desk. He didn’t move his away. "Well, then, don't keep me in suspense."
"Has it occurred to you that you might be a lost woman, Rose Weasley? That maybe you do these ridiculous things to try and find meaning in your life and rebel against the expectations placed on you by society as a daughter of war heroes, and yourself, through comparison to your relatives?"
Rose took a second to process this. Then promptly burst out laughing. "Blimey, that's a bit deep!" she snorted, blue eyes wide with mirth. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I just get bored?"
Scorpius frowned. "Most people read a book when they're bored. They don’t go down to the local pub for a brawl."
"You've never met my Uncle Charlie," she muttered.
"No, I haven't," he said, firmly. "But I'd like to. I'd like to meet all of your family, actually, because then I might be able to figure out where and how it's all gone wrong, what it is that makes them well-adjusted witches and wizards, and you a behavioural train-wreck."
"Charming. You could also ask my dad for a promotion, whilst you’re there," she quipped, but it lacked the necessary malice.
Still, Scorpius sighed, leaning back in his chair and hoping the added space between them would temper the urge to grab her by those defiant shoulders and shake - maybe give her a quick snog - and then shake some more.
He chanced a look over her head at the clock on the wall. His shift had ended well over ten minutes ago - if he wasn't careful some other officer might take a peek into interview room B, and want to know why he was currently illegally detaining the Co-Chief Auror's daughter. A pretty valid question really, the past half hour considered.
Time to wrap things up.
Technically, he supposed he'd got what he wanted: an explanation of sorts, even if Rose couldn't own up to it herself just yet. He'd solved his puzzle but it still left him feeling wretchedly unsatisfied.
Resigned, Scorpius fixed Rose with one final, level stare. "By my reckoning, you've got one question left, Weasley. Best make it count."
"Still playing that little game, are we? Hmm," Rose made a show out of taking her time, lounging back in her chair and tapping her chin with one nail-bitten finger. And then, she knocked him for six: "Are you working tomorrow night?"
It took him a moment to gather himself. "Why, planning on getting yourself arrested again?"
She laughed and pretended to consider it. "Actually, I'm going to a party. I think you should come."
"I can't imagine you and I share the same definition of a party."
"Relax," she rolled her eyes. "It's just James' housewarming. Unless you take offence to over-achievers, there won’t be anything there too morally-questionable for you, Officer."
He found himself grinning at her. She grinned back. "So, you'll come?"
"I'll -," In a brief flash of clarity, Scorpius realised that this was the first step on a path that was inevitably going to get him fired. "I'll be there. Definitely," he finished.
Beaming, Rose snatched the nib-end of a broken quill out of the bag of her personal effects and scribbled a Floo address and time across the front of her long-forgotten file. Trying very hard not to look too pleased with himself, Scorpius stood and opened the door.
"You're free to go, Miss Weasley," he failed to suppress a smirk as she swept past him, her shoulder knocking his, playfully.
"And to think, all this time being brutally interrogated, and all I had to do was give you my number. Oh," she paused in the corridor, turning to look at him in mock-innocent surprise. "And, do you realise? We've just spent the entire night together, and I haven't been wearing any knickers. That might just count as you ending that awful dry spell…"
That time, Scorpius knew for certain he must have blushed.
*
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