This is a just a little mix-media fun. I love playing with the just-dialogue format, but I couldn't just tell the whole story like that, so there's some third-person and letters in there too. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my writing.

"This-this is not what it looks like, I swear—"

"Absolutely, utterly, undoubtedly not what it looks like—"

"We were, um—we were just—"

"Well first I fell and then, then she kinda—"

"I pretty much tripped over him and—"

"—well it's a complicated story, really, but the long and short of it is that it's not what it looks like—"

"Most definitely not what it looks like."



("He's not saying anything; why isn't he saying anything? Rose—"

"Shut up, Scorpius—"

"Rose, I don't like the way his eye is twitching—")


"James…is there something wrong with your throat?"


"Oh come on, James, say something, please."

("Rose Weasley, I'm going to hold you fully responsible for any and all damage done to my person—ow that was my foot!")

"…because I am a generally good person, and a gentleman—"

("Yeah, that'll be the day—will you stop hitting me?")

"—I am refraining from slowly disemboweling you in front of my cousin. That is not a sight for her eyes. But rest assured, Scorpius Malfoy, I will do it. With great care and many, many sharp objects. And I will enjoy it. Immensely."


"As for you, you rotten excuse for a cousin, I have only one thing to say, and I hope it makes you cower, no tremble,in fear. I hope it gives you nightmares, because that will give me great satisfaction to know that you are suffering for the permanent mental damage you've caused by letting me see you doing…doing…with this bloody thing."

"This is ridiculous—"

"I. Am. Telling. Your. Father."




"Rose, are you in there? What the bloody hell did you do to her?"

"Quit talking, you slimy git. Now get out of my sight before I blast you so senseless that you won't know your own mother from your little blonde arse."

"How dare you talk to me like that, Potter—"

"Don't think I don't mean it, Malfoy."

"Getting out."



"…James. Sirius. Potter. There will be hell to pay."

The first reaction, as to be expected, was pure, numb shock. His fingers froze on the letter and he blinked furiously. His brain ground to an unceremonious halt, complete with screeching gears and noxious black smoke. His mouth moved silently until he finally managed a garbled "Agh…whaa?" The next emotion in line was horror. Horror unlike anything he'd ever known. Forget running from Voldemort or escaping a hostile Gringotts on a blind, cranky dragon, his daughter was fraternizing with Ferret Jr. This second stage proved to be more vocal than the first, involving many trembling stammers and disbelieving gibbering. Eventually, there came the magnificent, show-stopping finale:

Rage. Vein-shattering, brain-boiling, teeth-gnashing rage.


"I'm going to die; you do know that, right?"

"Oh, honestly, Scorpius, you're just overreacting." Rose flipped her auburn hair over one shoulder and continued down the hallway, winding through the bodies. Scorpius scowled and shoved after her.

"Your concern touches me, darling," he seethed, hurrying behind. "It's so comforting to know that when I'm a little bloody spot on your father's carpet, I'll have at least one person who mourns. One person who says, 'Oh, yes, that red stain over there? That was once the fine fellow known as Scorpius Malfoy; he is no longer with us, I'm afraid—'"

Rose briefly cast a withering look back at him. "Will you stop rambling?"

"You know, Rose, it really makes me worry about our relationship if you truly have no concern for my imminent demise," Scorpius went on in a hurt voice, ignoring her as per usual.

"You're not going to die, Scorpius. My father isn't…he isn't that…well he…" She faltered and came to a stop amid the throng of people. "He's just…I mean he'll only…" Scorpius waited while her mind ran that particular line of thought, one eyebrow raised doubtfully. Her blue eyes slowly grew round with horror, and she looked up at him. "Oh Merlin, you're going to die, aren't you?"

"Would you like to speak at the funeral?"

"I can't bloody believe this! Hermione, can you believe this?"

"Ron, if you keep pacing like that, you're going to wear a hole in the rug."

"I mean, after all we did for her, after all that loving care and, and dedication, and the years of bloody disgusting diapers, she has to go and snog bloody Malfoy…"

"Ron, please, I'm quite fond of this rug."

"Will you shut up about the bloody rug!"

"…Of course, Ronald dear."

"…sorry for yelling, 'Mione."

"Oh no, do continue, sweetheart."

"You only call me 'dear' and 'sweetheart' when you're angry—"

"What a preposterous notion. Why could I possibly be angry, dear?"

"Look, I said I was sorry, 'Mione. I really am. I just…I can't…our daughter was snogging a bloody Malfoy! I haven't been able to think straight for the past two days! I swear, when I get my hands on the slimy little git, I'm gonna kill him—"

"Ron, please, the rug!"

Dear Rose,

I am very ashamed of you. Not only were you caught snogging, which is utterly inappropriate at your age, but you were caught snogging Scorpius Malfoy. I hope you know the distress you have caused me. We are going to have a serious talk when you get back. You are hereby forbidden to date ever again. Especially not Malfoy.




Foul, Balding Ferret,

You keep your bloody offspring in line and off of my daughter.

Ron Weasley


Mangy, Freckled Weasel,

You tell your daughter to stop coming onto my son.

Draco Malfoy



I hear that you have been associating with one Rose Weasley. There better be a bloody well spectacular explanation for this.


Rose Weasley was pacing back and forth in a corner of the courtyard, chanting the ancient, time-honored mantra of those in deep trouble. The mantra goes something like this:

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "Swearing does not become you, Rosie dear."

"Shut up, Scor. Merlin's sodding boxers!"


Rose turned to him, a worrying, frenzied glint in her eye. She waved a well-crumpled piece of paper in front of his nose. "I have no time for delicacy, Scorpius! This is my death warrant!"

Her blonde companion gently moved aside the letter with an expression of distaste. "You're going to listen to him, then, and get thyself to the metaphorical nunnery?"

Rose fixed him with a very Hermione Granger-esque glare, reminiscent of the look in her mother's eyes right before she served Draco Malfoy a sucker punch. The sight would have made lesser men tremble, but her boyfriend was used to it. "Of course not, you dolt. But you do see the problem with my having, you know, a life when I'm being stalked by my exhaustive number of male relatives and chained to my bed at all other times?"

"I don't know, the last part doesn't sound all that bad—"

He was cut short by a good thwack to the head. Scorpius shot her a poisonous look and carefully smoothed his hair out again. "I'm only trying to point out the positives in this dire situation."

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Your dirty mind is not a positive, Scor."

Scorpius smirked and raised one eyebrow. It was a very distracting expression. "I thought you liked my dirty mind." He winked. What were they talking about again?

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head vehemently. "We're getting off track," she cried, taking up her pacing again. "We need to think of what to do, fast." She stopped, one hand pinching the bridge of her nose, the other poised on her hip. "I just…" She trailed off, sighing.

Scorpius tutted. "So stressed, dear. Here, let me fix that." He snagged her wrist and pulled her towards him.

Their lips met, and she promptly forgot all worries.

Dear James,




Dear Mum,

I am writing to you hoping that you'll be more understanding than Dad. Scorpius is smart, nice, and altogether wonderful (except for when he's being an utter prat, but we both know that that's normal for boys), so there is no reason for me to stop dating him. I am sorry for not telling you sooner, but honestly, what with the family history, can you blame me?

Please tell Dad that I know full well that he was snogging at my age, so it's no use trying that excuse. Also, tell him not to do anything rash.




Dear Albus, my best friend in the whole world whom I love like no other,

Drawing upon our deep, meaningful relationship, and all the good times we've had, I ask you to call off your bloodthirsty cousins. Being shoved into walls and toilets is not at all dignified. I don't think I can survive another night of being locked in a broom closet. Or another horrendous experience with Weasley test products, for that matter. Being my best friend in all of eternity, I think you may feel obliged to save my life before they get even more violent.


P.S. This may seem like shameless flattery and begging, but it most certainly is not. Malfoys do not beg.


Dear Dad,

There is a fabulous explanation. An explanation to top all explanations, one that will undoubtedly convince you to not murder and disown me.

One which I will tell you, in detail, once I get home. There are more places to hide there.




Dear Mum,

I am asking you in advance to try your best to restrain Dad once I explain why I'm dating Rose Weasley. He will undoubtedly try to murder and disown me.



"I swear, that boy is going to be the death of me! Do you know I hardly slept at all last night?"

"Having been constantly woken up by the tossing, turning, and whimpering, yes darling, I believe I know."

"It was because of the bloody nightmares! Image after horrifying image of sitting next to Weasel at family dinners, and having family reunions, and-and babysitting pink-haired grandchildren! And gingers, gingers everywhere!"


"Wait, 'whimpering?' I do not whimper."

"I can testify that you do, in fact, whimper, Draco. Loudly, and often preventing sleep."

"…I do not."

"You do."

"…that's beside the point! The point is that my son's careless snogging is going to result in my untimely death and the ruin of my family name."

"Honestly, Draco, I think you're being—"

"I mean, a Weasley! A bloody Weasley! Freckles, red hair, annoying, foul-tempered. What in the name of Merlin was he thinking?"

"He did say he had an explanation, darling. You did read the letter, didn't you?"

(slightly hysterical laughter) "Oh yes, the letter. The letter promising a reason for me to not 'murder and disown him,' I believe his words were. He also insisted on waiting until he returned here because he could hide in the Manor! Some kind of explanation that will be! Bloody smart arse."

"I take no responsibility for that."

Dear Scorpius,

You are not nearly as good at flattery as you think you are. Regardless of your pathetic attempts to manipulate our "deep, meaningful relationship"—I am very disappointed by that, by the way—I have no power over my mob of cousins. As much as I like having you as a best friend, I can't stop a band of Potter-Weasleys when they're out for blood.

Hope you survive,


P.S. It's totally begging.

P.P.S. You ever hurt Rose and I swear I'll kill you.

(books slam on the table)

(yelp of surprise)

"Alright Scorpius, I think I have a plan."

"Miss Weasley, I will ask you not to abuse the library books in such a manner. I thought you knew better than that."

"Yes, of course, Madam. Terribly sorry. I was just—nevermind. So sorry."

"Bloody hell, Rose, trying to give me a heart attack, are you? Getting mauled by your family isn't enough for me?

"Don't be such a girl, Scorpius. Besides, if I'm on to something here, then you won't be mauled by my family."

"Oh really? You've found a material strong enough to hold back a clan of rabid Weasleys?"

"We are not rabid."

"Could've fooled me, love."

"You know, you go on and on about how you'll be torn apart, but you haven't shown any concern for what's going to happen to me."

"To you?"

"Yes. You Malfoys are just as violent when it comes to my family."

"Yeah, but 'we Malfoys' are sophisticated. They wouldn't stoop to ripping you to shreds. They'd simply hire an expert assassin to kill you while you sleep."

"…which is supposed to be better?"

"At least you get the painless death."

"But—whatever, that's not the point. The point is that I think we can get out of this alive."

"I have a better plan."

"You haven't even heard my plan yet."

"Doesn't matter; mine's better."

"What is it, then, O Mastermind?"

"We get off the train on Platform 9 ¾, we get our luggage, and when our respective families spot us, then…we run. Short and simple. Try and beat that."


"Let's have it, then. What's your brilliant plan?"

"Well, there were some pleading letters involved, but…but that, basically."

"What, really?"




"So it's agreed, then? When the time comes, we run for our lives?"

"Pretty much."


Dear Rosie,

Love you too, sweetheart. Trust me, I'm doing you a favor.



P.S. Try not to let your dad kill him before I get off the train; I'd like to watch.

Rose's frantic hand-wringing abruptly stopped as the train whined and howled its halt. She caught Scorpius's eyes with her own. There was a final jerk, and then the locomotive was still. Rose swallowed hard.

"This is it," she said.

Scorpius nodded weakly, his gaze darting to the window.

"I suppose we ought to go out and get our luggage now," she offered. It sounded as if that was the last thing on earth she wanted to do, which was about the truth.

"I guess," her boyfriend managed.

There was a moment of tense silence, and then the two of them rose and left the compartment. They walked down the corridor through the pushing crowd of smiling, laughing students, each encompassed in their own bubble of anxiety. They reached the door and looked out into the steam and the bustle. Rose grasped his hand frantically. He squeezed back, probably with more force than was necessary.

"Come on! Get a move on!" someone shouted from behind.

Rose moaned quietly and the pair stepped off the train. Scorpius scanned the crowd, head swiveling.

"I don't see any of them," he said, hope creeping into his voice. "Maybe they forgot all about us and decided not to come?"

"Fat chance," she scoffed. "Come on, let's go get our stuff before they appear. I want to have some clothes and supplies when I make a run for my life." She dragged him by the hand to the luggage area. As she picked up her bags, she kept glancing up, her blue eyes searching for any telltale red hair. Instead, she caught the eyes of her cousin James. She froze like a deer in the headlights.

James smiled slowly, his brown eyes glinting with mischief.

"Don't you dare," she hissed under her breath, narrowing her eyes.

He hefted his bag and turned, hurrying off into the crowd.


"What? Are they here? Can we run?" Scorpius snapped up, his voice breaking with fear.

Rose rolled her eyes, straightening. She began walking, and Scorpius scurried after her. "James saw us. He just went running to get my family, probably."

Scorpius groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm going to die…"

"So am I!" Rose cried. "We're in this together, Scor. Scor?" The boy in question was slowly coming to a stop, and she turned to him questioningly. He was looking past her, his grey eyes widening in horror.

"Bloody hell," he whimpered. "They're here."

But she had stopped listening, her face mirroring his.

"Merlin, they're here," she squeaked.

They both snapped their heads towards each other. "My family," they said at the same time. Rose gulped.

"What, yours too?"

"You mean yours are coming as well?"

The pair turned to look at each respective family stalking towards them.

"Aw, shit," Scorpius said. "They're going to spot each other soon."

"Right about…now."

The Malfoy and Weasley patriarchs did indeed catch sigh of each other, and identical expressions of disdain and rage morphed their features. They quickened their pace, much to the chagrin of their wives, both determined to reach the pair before the other. Rose clasped onto Scorpius's hand again. He looked into her eyes.

"If I don't make it out alive, Rose, I want you to know—"

"I know."

Scorpius nodded, swallowing. "Good." He glanced at the fast-approaching families. "Run?"

"Run," she agreed.

Holding hands, they turned and ran.

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