Tea, Rabbits and Regret.

It was a pretty field of flowers, golden brown in the late summer sun. Victoire held the oversized teacup like she may let it drop at any moment, and her long hair was down and blowing in the wind.

A gentleman joined her. He wore a fine black dinner jacket over a white shirt, but both were rumpled and the bow tie was loose. Standing, looking down on her in her faded sundress and red-rimmed eyes, he said, "You look like a child."

"You are a child." The words fell out, even as she regretted them.

He ignored her, and from his pockets that held everything, he drew a mask. White, with a little pink nose, whiskers and two long, pointy ears. In his hands he made the rabbit dance, back and forth.

She almost smiled, and handed over her tea cup in exchange for the mask.

Scorpius sloshed the liquid around, watching it ripple and splash, before tipping his head back and downing it in its entirety. Stretching back, he lay against the warm soil, grass tickling his cheeks and sun blinding the eyes he closed.

Victoire slipped the mask on and, with a warm feeling in her stomach, felt like someone else. "He left me-" she eventually said.

The corner of Scorpius's mouth twitched. "I lost my job."

"-For my sister."

"I don't have a sister."

Victoire let out a frustrated groan, and looked out to the sky. Maybe she sought patience, maybe she sought sympathy. Maybe she was just looking for whatever she could find. "You're awful," she said. "Selfish."

He shrugged, the smallest movement. "What does it matter?"

Under the mask, Victoire's face twisted. "You can't just do whatever you like."

"Don't act like you're any better than I am."

"What? How am I doing that?"

"You haven't enquired after my newfound unemployment. Or my lack of siblings."

"And you haven't done the same for me!"

"Oh, so we should only do good once we've received it first. Is that right?"

Victoire pulled at her hair, she wished she could tear it out. "I don't understand you."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

There was silence. Victoire stewed in her mess of feelings, Scorpius was still.

It was he who broke the silence. "Now you're a better rabbit. Silent."

"Rabbits aren't silent, they ...chew and so on."

Scorpius laughed, loud and dry yet genuine.

Victoire began to pluck grass from the ground at a rapid pace, throwing the torn stalks over her shoulder. "I think I'll just become a rabbit, it seems easier."

"You'd have to chew that grass, not throw it away. That's dinner."

The next strand she held in front of her before biting down on it, comically. She just wanted to hear him laugh again.

Her wish was granted.

"If by easier you mean less painful than being human, you won't be saying that when you're torn about by a fox."

Victoire was silent for a minute. "I feel like I could tear apart a fox." Her anger and her hurt were just part of the mix of feelings that made the whirlwind in her heart.

Scorpius sat up, and he looked at her mask while she looked at him. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Victoire gave the slightest nod. "I'm sorry about your job, and your sister." She paused, and wanting to chase the lighter mood, added, "If it makes you feel any better, you can have mine."

Scorpius shook his head. "Not interested."

Victoire laughed bitterly. "I've heard that one before."

"But I mean it." His voice was steady and his eyes were clear and it would be so easy to believe him.

"You should have known being a muggle children's magician would be a bad idea."

"I was too good at it."

Victoire laughed like she didn't want to. "I'm sure."

"You should have known he was a scumbag and your sister a tart."

Her smile faltered. "You warned me."

He nodded. "I did." There was nothing gloating in his voice. There was nothing there at all.

"Is this where the 'I told you so' comes?"

"I'm a children's magician, not a child, Victoire."

The sound of her name on his lips sent her heart into overdrive, and then they were talking about something else, if they hadn't been all along. "Scorpius, I'm sorry."

He scowled and looked away. "I don't want to hear it."

"It's still true."

Begrudgingly he raised his head to look at her. She was glad for the mask to hide behind, even though she felt as though his eyes could bore right through it.

"Come on," he said. "Give me your list of rehearsed excuses."

She wished he hadn't drank her tea -well, it wasn't really tea- so she could throw it in his face. Her mother was French, dramatic gestures were her forte. "I'll give you my reasons, but they're not rehearsed, nor are they excuses."

He was silent, so she continued. "I thought you were too young. I know it's stupid, I know it sounds like I am making excuses, but it's the truth. It's what I thought, it was what I was preoccupied with. You were barely out of school, and I thought I was too good, even though we both worked the same shitty job and I was- you know how I was. I thought you were too young, but it was me who was immature. This whole time, you've been smarter, you've been more reasonable."

"There's nothing reasonable about the way I feel for you."

Even in this heat, she shivered. "Scorpius-"

He was in front of her, breath warm on her cheek, one hand on the ground by her leg, the other at the elastic of the mask. "Let me look at you," he breathed, and removed it, chucking it aside without a glance.

She felt pale and small and wide eyed as she blinked up at him, while he looked a little like perfection.

"Would you still feel the way you say you do if I were a rabbit?" she heard herself asking.

"Not if you were a rabbit, but if you looked like one I wouldn't care in the slightest. It doesn't matter to me how you look, Victoire. I know you find it hard to believe, I know that's why you get so much attention. But I- I look further than they do. I think you're incredible. Inside and out." He looked away. "I don't care if that sounds cheesy, it's the truth."

"I don't think I look good," she said, looking at the ground. That wasn't all she got from his speech, but she didn't know if she could deal with what she was hearing, what she was feeling.

"I know," he said, his hand hovering over the curve of her cheek. "I know you don't, but you're beautiful. I'm glad he left you. He doesn't deserve to look at you, let alone touch you."

Victoire's eyes were closed under his almost-touch, but she opened them, looked him right in the eyes. "You can," she said, so softly. "Look... touch..."

With the back of his hand, he stroked her cheek. "Am I still too young?' he asked, his voice as soft as hers, but more dangerous. "I promise I've grown since then."

"You're not. You weren't then, you're not now. I've regretted every moment since I turned you down. You were right, it didn't matter. It doesn't. None of that matters."

He smiled and leaned right in, so, so close. Her eyes fluttered shut. But he spoke, almost against her mouth. "Are you going to break my heart, Victoire Weasley?"

Her eyes flew open, wide and blue and serious. "I'll try not to," she said in a voice like shattering china.

Scorpius was still for a moment. "I'll take what I can get," he then said, and they crashed together.