Hey there world. I'm back. Kind of. Let's all just accept this isn't The Thing, or The Birthday Present right from the get-go shall we? Those fics aren't dead, just sleeping. Forgive me.

This piece is designed to be more like Excuses in that it will be a series or four one-shots that basically follow the exact same formula as Excuses, although they're all going to be from Rose's POV. Nothing new here. Just arguably more swearing. I apologise, this series is more about me getting back into the swing of things - I haven't had a real hit of inspiration for the longest time, not to mention being unwell, so I'm just getting out what comes into my head in an attempt to get back on the bandwagon and finally be able to start writing again. This isn't adding anything new to this fandom or even to my own portfolio. This is just fun and my own type of therapy.

I tried to make them reasonably short and don't expect a huge degree of plot here - this is basically just banter. Also, if things don't seem to make much sense, just stay tuned - I'm planning (and have actually written parts of, good lord Grae you sound almost organised!) an accompanying piece that will be all Scorpius' POV of the same scenarios. Also, yes it's 'M' - it has bad words, lots of them, hence the rating. But there will be smut eventually, I promise.

IMPORTANT: Just to clarify, Rose and Scorpius are rivals in the International Quidditch League, but are teammates in the English World Cup team. If I've made any mistakes with Quidditch-related things I am sorry. In fact if Quidditch inaccuracies offend you, I strongly suggest you stop reading now because I daresay it will happen more than once.

Anyways, enough rambling, here's the story.

Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling, these characters belong to her, I only borrow them with the most honest of intentions

1. Scorpius Malfoy's Toilet Floor

The first thought Rose has is to tell the person playing drums at this early hour to kindly shut the fuck up. What kind of inconsiderate asshole plays the motherfucking drums on a Sunday morning when some poor souls (re: Rose) are trying to recover from what is an exceptionally horrid hangover? She wants to voice her thoughts but all that comes out is an unintelligible 'marumffapant'.

As the jumbled assortment of syllables she tried desperately to pass off as speech left her mouth, Rose notices something else – the indiscriminate taste of vomit.

Great, last night had been a spewy night. Just super.

It's only now, with Rose contemplating why the almighty creator decided to curse her so, when she fully comes to realize that the aching throughout her body is not entirely contributable to the fact that she drank too much and danced too long last night. There's a pain in her hip and a stiffness in her neck that is only caused by sleeping on a surface not meant for sleeping on. And now that she thinks of it, she's pretty sure she's not in bed, because her bed definitely wasn't made of unforgiving tiles. She's on the fucking floor.

Fuck you Past Rose. Fuck. You.

Rose knew that she had to make the very painful decision to open her eyes. Eventually. Just maybe not right this second. Maybe not even the next second either. Maybe not even today. Or tomorrow.

How bout she just lay here to die in peace for about three months, then she'll reconsider? That sounded like an excellent plan to her. You know, apart from the fact that her body ached so incredibly badly that by the time three months came around her hip may legitimately be broken from bearing the brunt of her weight for so long. Hmmm, maybe the three-month plan should be reconsidered.

"Well, well, now there's a sight I'll happily have burned into my retinas till the end of my days."

Rose knows that voice all too well. It's the arrogant overtones that give him away even though she can't see him.

(Besides, there's only one person on the whole entire Earth that she send shivers down her spine with just a few simple words.)

(And she hates him for it).

Rose forces one bleary eye open to see Scorpius Malfoy leaning – SHIRTLESS (what a hussy) – against the doorframe, cup of what she assumes is coffee held languidly in one hand as he smirks down at her where she is sprawled on the floor. She might be mortified if she could find the energy for it. She's pretty certain her energy has skipped town with her dignity. They've been on the way out for a while now, not entirely surprising really.

Scorpius Malfoy was the kind of guy that Rose simultaneously wanted to punch – repeatedly – but also bang – repeatedly. It was mighty frustrating. She used to be able to reign it in when they were opposing team captains in the International Quiddith League, but they had recently both been selected for England's representative side in the World Cup…Ok, so maybe it was a little more complicated than that. Like maybe Rose had been appointed Captain (squee!), and Scorpius hadn't made the cut to be one of the first beaters and had instead been delegated to reserve. And maybe – just maybe – Rose had kind of used all of her Captain-y powers to sway the decision and have him appointed to named squad, because despite how much she hated him – and she really truly hated him and his damn perfect cheekbones – the selection panel were only looking at sheer brute force in their Beaters, which just wasn't smart play. Scorpius might not have had the most dominant swing on the circuit, but he was the most accurate, and could clearly knock a guy or girl off their broom with one well-timed, perfectly aimed hit, regardless of their balance or skill. So yeah, Rose had kind of fought for him. Not that he would ever be allowed to know that. In fact she had made several nasty threats to the selection panel to ensure the secret never got out. He'd never mentioned it, and had continued to act as his usual arrogant self in the weeks following, so it could be safely assumed her secret was safe.

The point was that she was mildly regretting her decision now that it meant she spent at least five mornings a week training with him and putting up with his stupid, arrogant (cunning, sexy – NO!) body on a virtually daily basis. Not to mention the nighttime meetings discussing strategies and partaking in painstakingly boring team-building exercises. Being that close to someone you wanted to violently assault but also have maddeningly good hate-sex with so frequently was not good for anyone's mental health, least of all Rose's. Why? Why did he have to be so infuriatingly good at his job that she just had to have him on the team?

That wasn't the most pressing question at current though. No, no. The most pressing question was a very simple one:

Why is Scorpius Malfoy in my apartment?

Rose tries to vocalize that thought but instead all that comes out is a garbled "wha-funkle-GARB!" as she descends into a spluttering mess and hacks up what may be what's left of her liver. This only causes Scorpius' smirk to spread a bit wider.

"Ah Rose Weasley, eloquent as ever even when barfing up a lung."

Rose scowls at him, but she suspects the intensity is lost slightly due to her not being able to open her eyes completely anyway. She clears her throat of whatever monstrosity is stuck to the walls of her esophagus, and tries again.

"Why are you in my bathroom?"

She sounded like an 80 year old man who'd smoked 3 packs a day since birth, but at least the words made sense. Rose is not impressed with the snort and brightening smile she gets in response.

"I'm not."

Rose wants to retort with something extremely sarcastic and stinging, but she's too distracted by the way his smile lights up the whole goddam room and makes her stomach drop in a way that she really wishes she could attribute to her arguably excessive intake of alcohol. Instead she just makes a sound not unlike that of a dying animal.

And the smile gets bigger.

Stupidly talented attractive ass-shat..

"Welcome to my home Wealsey," he purrs as he takes a sip of his coffee, "Please, make yourself comfortable."

Which is goddam impossible considering she's on the goddam floor. She attempts the glare again but instead just closes her eyes. It makes things mildly better. She feels herself somehow drifting back off to sleep which may in fact just be her passing out from pain, dreaming of days in the sun, flying through the air on her broom, and, most importantly, those seemingly distant memories of when she wasn't incapacitated by a monstrous hangover.

Wait a minute. She's in Scorpius Malfoy's home. The belly of the beast. Behind enemy lines. The Lion's den. Or more appropriately, the Snake's…whatever a snake lives in. A hole? Yes, the Snake's Hole. Holy fucking shit.

Damn your worthless soul to hell Past Rose! Curse you for breathing!

"So," Infuriatingly Attractive Dickwad interrupts her sweet dreams once more, "What did you want to tell me?"

Rose tries her best to comprehend that sentence – she really does – but nothing comes to mind.

"What?"

Something in Scorpius' eyes soften into an expression that – if she didn't know from years of Quidditch rivalry that he didn't have a soul – she may have called disappointment. It's gone before she can really decide what it meant, and chalks the confusion up to hangover-induced hallucinations.

"Last night when you almost broke down my door, you exclaimed rather loudly that you needed to tell me something."

"Didn't I tell you when you let me in?"

"No, you were rather preoccupied,"

Please spare me the details and just leave it at that.

"…By throwing up all over my front door step."

Oh fuck.

Rose has a deep-rooted hatred for Scorpius that began when her father first warned her about him on Platform 9 ¾ when she was eleven. That hatred intensified when he set her hair on fire in third year, and then exploded when they were named opposing Quidditch Captains for their respective houses (Gryffindor and Slytherin) in 7th year, and only became all the more encompassing now that they Captained their own teams and faced off against each other on the professional circuit.

(And then that hatred kind of bloomed and blossomed into other feelings that had her damn Weasley genes betraying her and lighting her face up like a fucking Christmas tree and her downstairs fun-zone waking up whenever his name was mentioned. Which in turn just kind of morphed into more hatred because no one gets Rose hot and bothered without her permission).

But despite her hatred, she never planned on throwing up on his doorstep. This was a whole new level of mortifying.

Rose makes the sound of a dying animal again and tries her best to cease to exist. She isn't successful.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs and tries her goddam best to not sound like she's about to cry. Because she will not cry in front of Scorpius Malfoy. She won't. No matter how humiliated she is.

There's an awkward silence during which both of them try to ignore the fact that the unflappable Rose Weasley – proud captain of the Hollyhead Harpies, Seeker and all-around badass – is so close to tears. She gathers her composure – woman-up Weasley! – and tilts her hair so she can glare at him again.

"I was probably coming to yell at you about that illegal move you pulled during yesterday's game."

Scorpius scoffed indignantly and let out a groan, "For the last time it was not illegal!"

And just like that, not even the horrid hangover as a result of drinking so much that she may have actually displaced her stomach through the course of her relentless vomiting, could hold down Rose's will to argue, "You instructed your second beater to deliberately target our keeper –!"

"As we are within our rights to do –"

"Simultaneously and well beyond the scope of what can be considered good sportsmanship –"

"Puh-lease! We are the Falmouth Falcons Rose – sportsmanship isn't exactly in our repertoire."

"Which forced Whipshaw out of the match – with a suspected broken pelvis, you get how serious that is right?"

"Hey! Don't blame me for your Keeper's inability to dodge. That's like basic maneuvering 101."

"So what was he supposed to do? Maneuver and let you get the goal you were clearly setting up, which would have got you the win –"

"What you're describing is strategy, not cheating."

"You're a bunch of thugs!"

"Yes but we're thugs that are well above you in Championship points."

"Only because of the cheating!"

"Strategy. Come on Rosie, that bitter taste in your mouth isn't only the thousand or so firewhiskeys you must have downed – I'd say a lot of that is good old fashion jealousy." He does that damn smirking thing again, and it causes her stomach to do that silly flip-flop thing again.

Curse him to the inner most pits of fiery hell.

"I did not have a thousand…" At least she's pretty sure she didn't. Surely if she had she would be dead. And despite how awful she feels right now, she is at least 76.5% sure she isn't dead. Scorpius raises a condescending eyebrow and takes a large sip of coffee. Glorious, glorious coffee that she had become addicted to on one of her trips to America during the international Quiddith trials. No matter how awful she feels, Rose is pretty sure coffee could help revive her. If she could keep it down. And that's a big if.

She must have been staring longingly at his cup of coffee because he sighs loudly and smirks at her a little.

"Would you like me to make you a cup of coffee, Rose? Or perhaps a pint?"

It is embarrassing how close she is to crying tears of joy at the offer. She doesn't trust herself not to squeak if she attempts speech, so instead she lets her lip quiver and nods quickly. Scorpius smiles down at her and her stomach does a stunning gymnast routine of many flips and turns and spins that would have earned her a perfect ten from the Russian judge.

Stupid treacherous stomach.

"Think you can make it to the kitchen or should I deliver?" he's looking all smug again, like always, and if he hadn't just offered her coffee and if she could lift herself off this floor she'd be sorely tempted to punch him. Instead she just tries to glare again as he continues to say, "I warn you, there is a freight charge."

"Oh really?" her voice cracks embarrassingly on the last syllable but she just keeps going and pretends it never happened, "And what would that cost be?"

He smiles broadly, "I'm so glad you asked."

Scorpius disappears from the doorway and she hears him shuffling around in his room for a while, apparently looking for something.

She prays it's not a condom, because she really isn't physically up to that right now.

And she would never consider sleeping with Scorpius Malfoy.

Ever.

Because she hates him.

Yeah.

Although if the coffee was really good….NO ROSE!

Rose is saved from the ramblings of her inner monologue by a most unwelcome sound – the unmistakable buzz of a camera flash. Rose opens her eyes marginally further again and sees Scorpius Malfoy lowering his camera to smirk again.

"There – freight charge covered!" He drops his weight against the doorframe and Rose is way too angry and mortified at him to find him sexy. Not that she would anyway. Because she hates him and big stupid beautiful face.

Wait, what? Beautiful?!

Fuck you hungover Rose. You're bloody crazy.

"For that photo will be priceless!" His face splits into in a genuine smile as Rose tries, feebly and too darn late princess, to right her skirt that is sitting somewhere up under her armpits and therefore giving him a stunning view of her mid-drift and the not-at-all-sexy sucker-inner undies required to pull off such a form-fitting article of clothing.

She must find and destroy that photo immediately!

And when she says immediately, she means as soon as she is no longer dying.

So maybe in like a month. Or six.

"I hate you," she croaks, giving up on the skirt that's apparently taken it upon itself to become a second, more uncomfortable bra because that is exactly what she needs in her life right now, "I know that I say that a lot, but I really want you to know that I really, truly, hate you."

Scorpius' face softens to something genuine, before morphing into a look that suggests he knows a joke she's not privy to. He walks towards what Rose assumes is his kitchen before calling out, "No you don't!"

But she does. She really, really does.

Except for when he brings her coffee, a cushion and a blanket a few moments later. Then she doesn't hate him. She's still not thrilled with his existence, but she doesn't hate him. Not quite.

Part two will hopefully not take too long, maybe a week or two. I'm pretty excited to get the Scorpius POV piece up asap because, like with Excuses, I like his bits better I think. Anyways, please review, they really do make my day.

All my love