A/N: This is dedicated to Jenny (xrawrDINOSAURx), one of my lovely pairing triplets, and just an overall great friend. Happy Birthday, Jenny!

wear your heart on your sleeve, make things hard to believe
i'm not feeling the situation
run away try to find that safe place you can hide
it's the best place to be when you're feeling like
[all these things i hate; bullet for my valentine]

They thought they would finally be rid of each other after graduating Hogwarts, after seven years of he said, she said disputes and tension of many sorts and oh, so many things (memories) that they would rather not dwell upon, things they wanted so desperately to forget.

If only forgetting were that easy.

I'm all done.

Finally, the horrific chapter of my life called "Hogwarts" is over for good.

Actually, scratch that - I had no problems with the school itself, whatsoever.

A more accurate phrase to describe my current bliss would be:

Finally, the horrific chapter of my life called "Rose Weasley" is over for good.

But whatever, this isn't a goddamn diary, for Merlin's sake, and I've got places to go, anyways.

(Particularly a job interview the first week after graduating school, no big deal or anything.)

We're making annoyed faces at each other in detention one day, nothing new for us so-called fourth-year delinquents.

"You're never going to make it big, are you, Scorpio?"

I give this piece of agitating piece of shit my best glare, though she's looking quite fine today - for a Weasley, that is - and say, "Don't call me that."

"Call you what?" she asks, with that sickly sweet expression on her face that I just want to punch off - but she's a girl, so I can't hit her, but instead, I could just shut her up by kissing her...

Wrong, Malfoy. That's wrong on so many levels. Get your head straight.

"Get out of here, Rosie."

That's better.

"I rest my case, just so you know," she begins in that "I'm so much better than you" tone of hers, "one day I'll be landing my first-ever job and you'll be sitting in your stupid mansion, sulking."

I raise a single eyebrow. "Really? Do you want to bet?"

She makes a face at me, and I'm confused for a moment - just a moment, though, because I'm Scorpius freaking Malfoy - and I have to stop and think why Rose Weasley and I are conversing so naturally in the first place.

I make a mental note to myself to not repeat this nonsense again, hearing her reply, "You know you'll lose, Scorpio."

"I guess that's a yes to the bet, Rosie," I say, giving her my trademark smirk that she yet again doesn't fall for. "The bet you're going to lose."

She gives me a wink - a wink, what? - and walks away with all her grace, practically skipping.

At this point, I find I hate her a bit more than I usually do, because my dream of becoming a writer is getting more and more personal.

(Because everything about her has always been personal for me, hasn't it?)

Bring it, Rosie.

Certain individuals always made it their life's priority to tell me that sometimes I walk like I own the place where I'm descending.

Is this arrogant or cocky?

No, definitely not. I'd describe it more along the lines of being confident.

So when I walk into the grand offices of the Daily Prophet newspaper, absolutely not strutting like I own the place, but strutting like I one day will indeed own the place.

I flirt with the secretary just for good measure, and she directs me to the waiting area, batting an obviously malfunctioning eyelash at me.

I give her a quick wink before walking straight into my impending doom.

"This is the last time I'm telling you, Malfoy - stop flirting with my cousin."

I'm only able to say, "Are you jealous?" before she kicks me right in the shins.

The bitch.

"It was just a simple question, Weasley, you little - fuck!" I say, not worrying about insulting her and instead swearing under my breath like there's no tomorrow, trying not to look too in pain because of the violence inflicted upon me by a sixteen year-old girl.

She smiles at me. "That's what you get for playing with me."

I reluctantly let go of my leg, trying not to wince in pain. "If you're not jealous, you could have just said so!"

She ponders this for a moment. "Huh - I think I like my method of letting you know exactly how I feel much better."

"Fine then," I say, narrowing my eyes. (Two can play this game.) "Just for that, I'm going to ask her out."

"Ask who out?" she asks me quickly, her tone giving away that she's partly nervous and partly irritated.

The girl doesn't understand proper manners, does she?

"Shut up, Weasley. And your cousin, of course. What's her face - the one you say I've been 'flirting' with," I say nonchalantly, entirely forgetting about the pain in my leg. "You're okay with that, right?"

"Go to hell, Malfoy."

I don't quite understand why knowing that she is, indeed, jealous gives me so much satisfaction as she storms off.

There's obviously something wrong with me.

When I see Rose Weasley sitting in the Daily Prophet waiting area with a body language that's clearly portraying to everyone else that all her Christmases have come early, I consider three things, in order of importance, of course.

One - throwing a fit, because I was so done with Rose Weasley and all her shit since a week ago, and hell, my celebratory parties of never having to see her again have barely even kicked off yet.

Two - going back to reception and seducing the secretary into kicking Weasley out, because manipulation is my specialty.

Three - leaving and abandoning the interview entirely, because I'm obviously too much of a coward to go through with it if it means dealing with her first.

But I manage to calm myself enough to go with option number four - Scorpius Malfoy never ceases to surprise, does he? - direct confrontation.

I take a deep breath, hopelessly evading the unnecessary memories that are firing off in my mind.

Fuck it all - you're not going to get the better of me again, Rosie.

"Don't be so daft, Weasley. Can't you see what this little asshole is trying to..."

"What?" she interrupts me, crossing her arms. "What are you trying to get at?"

"You're being ridiculous, alright?" I hiss, the thought of Tyler Nott's filthy hands on her taking over my every rational thought, "Every single person with a right mind at our school knows that he's just using you."

"Oh," she says, narrowing her eyes. "So that's what this is about."

I shake my head at her, still unable to fathom her obliviousness. "Can't you tell he just wants in your pants?"

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" she says, beginning to walk away from me.

That's right - what's it to me? I should care less, but this is Rose, the girl I absolutely (don't) hate with every fibre of my being, and the only thing I can think of to justify my actions is to pretend like I still hate her.

I follow her, grabbing her arm so she faces me again. "Don't get the false impression that it means absolutely anything to me."

"Then leave me alone, and let go of my arm," she insists, trying and failing to get out of my grasp. She looks up at me, defeated. "This isn't your problem, Malfoy," she says, her voice akin to a whisper.

"He shouldn't be allowed to make you cry like that," I tell her, taking in her shock at me knowing so much, "that's my job, remember? I'm the only one who can spite you."

She snorts, as if I've suggest something stupid. "No matter what you've done, I've never cried over you."

"Exactly," I say quietly, once again having no clue what external force is taking over me and making me say - do all these things, "and I'll never do anything that will make you cry."

I only vaguely take in the look in her eyes after I say this before I'm kissing her like I've never kissed any girl before - why, why, why? - and there's tears streaming down her face - I can taste them, but she's kissing me back and that's the only thing I can appreciate.

"Scorpius," she breathes after we've broken up, but she's still in my arms, and she's referring to me not as Malfoy, or Scorpio, but Scorpius, and Merlin, it feels like no one and nothing else exists at that moment.

(And it feel like it should have always been this way.)

I tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear in such an un-Scorpius like fashion that it's disturbing, but I'm not worried about that at all, because this is Rose. "Break up with him. He's not in love with you," I manage, resisting the urge to just kiss her senseless all over again.

"And you are?" she whispers, making it sound like the most important question in the world.

I close my eyes for a second before nodding. "You could say that."

"Well, well, well - if it isn't Rose Weasley," I say as I approach this stupid girl that I have so many memories with, with an air of confidence that I know I don't have at the moment.

She spins around, recognizing my voice before she even sees me, just as I know I would recognize hers.

Her mouth gapes open in a desperate attempt to either a) pretend I'm not there, b) pretend I'm there but I'm not Scorpius Malfoy, or c) pretend I'm there, I am indeed Scorpius Malfoy, but I'm there just to crash her interview.

But she quickly realizes how wrong she is on option c) when her eyes fall upon the portfolio in my hands.

The girl's always been bright, I can give her that.

"Is that your warmest welcome?" I drawl, my eyes involuntarily going all over her figure.

It's only been a week, but unfortunately enough, it seems I haven't cracked the habit of doing that whenever I see her.

She glares at me in response, and I can't help but wonder if she's playing the goddamn silent game with me or something, but I still take the seat right next to her like the shameless idiot I am.

"Just keep that face on, Weasley," I say, feeling like I'm still talking to myself, "it'll come in handy when I finally land this job and you're left with nothing."

"This job is mine, Malfoy," she declares, finally responding to me with a daring look in her eyes that says, "Go ahead, try to contradict me, darling."

So, naturally, I do.

"I appreciate your optimism, Weasley, but have you looked in the mirror lately? You look ridiculous," I lie, with a smoothness that would make my father proud if he were in my presence, "Anyone in their right mind wouldn't hire you, let alone the editor of the Daily Prophet."

To my satisfaction, she huffs and turns away from me, attempting to check her reflection in the nearest glass door without making herself look obvious.

Job well done, Scorpius. Every girl is insecure about their looks, and I've taught myself to play that up over the years.

It works like a charm every time.

Well, in Weasley's case, it doesn't work like a charm, necessarily, because I'll be willing to swear on my grave that the girl has never gotten laid, but it works well enough to get her off my back.

So I sit up straighter, boasting in my new found glee at once again one-upping Rosie Weasley.

"This was never about me, Scorpius," she nearly screams, and I know she's right before she even says her next words. "It was always about you."

"That's not true, Rose," I lie, "just hear me out once, okay?"

I try harder and harder and it's just not working, because Rose Weasley has never been like the other girls, and this is one mess that I know I'm never going to be able to sort out.

"Forget it, Scorpi - sorry, Malfoy," she says scornfully, and the pain of it stabs me like a knife through my chest, even though it shouldn't.

Even though this is just another break-up.

Even though this is just another girl.

Even though this is just another break-up with just another girl that I'm positively not in love with.

She sulks like she always has when it comes to me being in the same room as her, and the girl really shouldn't do this kind of thing, because it just inflates my ego even more.

Oh, hell with it, I love it when she does this.

"The pressure getting to your head, babe?" I offer, giving her my most sympathetic face.

She narrows her eyes. "Don't push it."

I hold up my hands in a gesture that signals I want to make peace.

She doesn't buy it, and continues glaring.

That is, until the editor of the Daily Prophet walks out of the office right next to us, calling for Rose Weasley.

She spares me one last dirty glance before retretating, straightening her skirt and smiling at the man who holds her future in his hands.

I fiddle with my shirt buttons while I wait for her to fail.

"No, this isn't funny in the least!" Rose exclaims, throwing papers here and there to portray her sheer disbelief at my incompetence.

"Did I say it was funny?" I inquire lazily, because I honestly don't remember stating anything of the sort.

I can hear her sucking in her breath and holding it before speaking again through clenched teeth. "Malfoy. Working with you obviously wasn't my choice, and now, because of you, we. Are. Going. To. Fail."

"Don't try to blame this on me. If we're going to fail, it's probably your fault," I say.

"Shut up, and just leave me alone," she says exasperatedly, and I can tell how much she wishes I would die, because "leave me alone" certainly isn't her best comeback.

I decide to tell her one last thing before she walks away from me, because she's walked away from me countless times, and I'll never let her forget it; I'll make sure she remembers it until her dying day.

"Don't expect anything from anyone, Weasley. That way, you'll always be impressed."

"What are you, a philosopher?" she replies, turning around and giving me a disgusted look.

I pause, taking in the way her eyebrows are quirked up like she suspects me of something, her blue eyes searching me for an answer, any answer.

"No," I respond blankly, trying not to read into how much she hates me at the moment and always will. "I'm just being realistic."

She comes back half an hour later, her face challenging me in one swift smirk.

"Scorpius Malfoy?" the familiar editor calls out, motioning to me as Rose takes her previous seat. "If you would come with me, please?"

"Have fun with trying to beat me," she whispers in my ear as I walk past.

Her proximity gives me a quick chill, but I get over it. "You have fun when I succeed at it."

I come back in approximately the same time that she did, feeling elated, my amazing skills at owning the interview getting the best of me.

"Scared, Malfoy?" she says, giving me a once-over as I sit back down next to her.

"I could say the same to you, Weasley," I reply, looking at the way she's constantly tapping her foot.

"We'll see, we'll see."

And we did see, not less than ten minutes later, as the man who had interviewed us both came back out of his office, assessing his clipboard carefully.

I eye my opponent once again, being the closest to nervous that I've been all afternoon.

She raises her eyebrows at me, mouthing, "You're going to be the loser."

I shake my head at her, only to hear the three words that I think will probably end my life right there.

They're even worse than when Rose Weasley said "I hate you."

They're even worse than when Rose Weasley said "I love you."

"Rose Weasley - congratulations."

And my world comes crashing down much faster than it had when she broke up with me.

So, for once, I let her win, knowing that she's going to rub it in my face in approximately two minutes and seventeen seconds.

(Don't give me that look - her exact reaction time has just gotten predictable over the years, is all.)

But I, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy - I make that sacrifice, because something in the way she's smiling so much more brightly now is getting to me, weirdly enough.

I'm in this trance for just about three seconds when I realize that this is complete and utter bullshit.

I'm Scorpius Malfoy.

She's Rose Weasley.

I can't let her win so easily, can I?

So I don't.

Instead, I walk straight up to her, managing a more than effective, "Excuse me," at the Daily Prophet staff and editor-in-chief currently engaged in congratulating my rival, spin her around by the arm, and kiss her full on the lips.

I'm partly enjoying the epic proportions of my carefully crafted win, hearing the sudden gasps of Weasley's new co-employees, and on the other hand, taking in the feeling of her lips responding - wait, what? - to mine, in stark contrast to her hands trying (and failing) to push me away, the smell of her hair...

And just as I was so close to winning it all, I lost.

Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, losing is the only thing I seem to do when it comes to Rose Weasley.

A/N: PLEASE don't favorite without reviewing!