Disclaimer: not mine. obviously :)

"And that was the third one today!"

Scorpius grinned as he leaned against the carved wooden desk. Ms R. Weasley, a small sign read in neat gold letters. Of all the things Rose had enjoyed most about her new promotion, those gold letters were the ones she treasured most. Or rather, the two gold letters that didn't appear: the 'i' and the 's', finally gone from the middle of the first word. No more Hogwarts Miss Weasley for her.

"Honestly, Scorp, you should wait around for the next one. I would seriously take bets on how soon he'll turn up. And what gnome-forsaken pick-up line he'll come up with this time. What was the last one again?"

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven..." Scorpius said drily, picking up a sugar quill from Rose's desk. She looked at him curiously. "You've only told me this story twice now."

He was rewarded with a blush, spreading from the freckles on her nose to the roots of that damned Weasley hair. She picked up another quill – Merlin knew there were enough of them on that scattered desk of hers – and started fiddling with it between her fingers. "I'm going on about it, aren't I?"

He laughed. "Maybe a little."

"It's going to my head, that's all," she admitted. "I mean, three guys trying to hit on me in one day? Really?"

"It's certainly very flattering."

She sighed, dropping the quill and picking up a stack of parchment instead. She leafed through it quickly, fussily, her eyes firmly fixed on one spot. "It's just... well. I know I'm not exactly pick-up line material, you know –"

"Hogwarts was three years ago, Miss Weasley."

"Oh, shut up," she laughed, reaching over to swat him with her parchment. "I'm over all that. No, I just mean it seems odd, coming so soon after my promotion and all. Now that I think about it I probably shouldn't get too worked up about it. They're probably trying to steal the Department's secrets or something. Besides, it's not like I'd go out with gits like them anyway, so this isn't exactly a breakthrough for me –"

"I'm sorry, but 'Do you have a map, because I just got lost in your eyes'? You honestly think anyone who can come up with that crap is smart enough to sneak into the Department of International Magical Cooperation –"

"Who's stealing my department's secrets?"

The booming voice echoed through the small chamber and Scorpius swore he saw Rose's papers start shaking. "Mr, uh, Mr Crawley!"

Rose's hulk of a boss reached for the scruff of Scorpius' neck – and Scorpius was not ashamed to admit that he leapt out of the way like a terrified rabbit. "Wrong answer, Malfoy. If I wanted to steal Department secrets I'd hardly have to sneak around, now would I?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes, sir, you're right of course, sir. I'll, uh –"

"Just be going, I hope," and this time Crawley's hand came down to pat him sharply on the back. Scorpius breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure you have mysteries to be solving down in that dungeon of yours."

So Rose wasn't going to lose her job because of him. Not until next time he came to visit, anyway.

And since the pick-up lines hadn't worked, there were going to be a lot of next times...

Scorpius wandered back to the elevator, still lost in thought.

"Any luck?"

He jumped. "Finch! What are you doing all the way up here?"

"Talking to you, good sir! And how went your meeting with the lovely Ms W? Or should I say, meetings?"

Scorpius rolled his eyes. "If you want to smarm like a politician you're welcome to stay on this level."

The lift shuddered as the metal doors clanked shut, and suddenly they were hurtling downwards. Scorpius reached for the overhead handle instinctively as they neared his least favourite turn – after four visits today to Rose's new office he certainly wasn't planning on being slammed into the wall again.

Finch wasn't so lucky. "Dammit, that happened on the way up, too," he muttered, rubbing his head. "Man, I wish I had your luck. Pretty glad it's five o'clock, I've had the world's worst day."

"Luck?" Scorpius asked in surprise. "Haven't heard that one before. And I'm feeling even less lucky than usual after today..."

He received a pat on the back for his efforts. "Cheer up, mate, you'll get there. So I take it the, uh, meetings didn't go too well, then?"

"She nearly swatted me the third time! And she called me a git, and said she'd never go out with me –"

"You or them?"

"Well, them, but it's the same thing, isn't it –"

"No, you idiot, this is excellent news, it means she isn't into gits who use cheesy pick-up lines. What are you doing tonight? Don't answer that, you're inviting me over for drinks. And while I'm there we are going to plan out the rest of this mad escapade, because knowing you you'll just keep choosing a succession of pick-up lines and wonder why she keeps smacking you in the face. No, don't object, it's settled."

The elevator stopped, but it wasn't their floor. "Hang on, mate, I haven't clocked out yet, I have to go back down to the Department –"

Finch pulled a small piece of parchment from his robes, waved his wand and before Scorpius could say a word the memo was flying into the nearest elevator and Finch was dragging him to the fireplaces. "Scorpius' flat," he said clearly as the silver powder disappeared into the green flames, and once again Scorpius was being pulled along with no clear idea what was happening.

He straightened as he entered his flat, narrowly avoiding tripping over Finch, who'd fallen onto his carpet. Which wasn't odd. It happened nearly every time Finch came over.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked politely, as Finch gathered himself up off the floor.

"Got anything stronger?"

"Accio butterbeer," he called out. "Remind me why you're invading my flat? And soiling my carpet?"

"Because I can't exactly soil the carpet at my grandparents' place, can I? It's like bloody Eton in there. Wish I could afford to move out like you."

"Maybe if you didn't spend your entire paycheck on Firewhiskey at the Leaky..."

Finch laughed. Since he'd started work at the Ministry he'd been staying with his grandparents, a rich Muggle family who lived in the centre of London. He'd graduated Hogwarts a year ahead of Scorpius, and had become his unofficial guide when he, too, had joined the Department of Mysteries. No-one else seemed particularly inclined to share their tips and secrets...

"Anyway, smart-arse, I'm invading your flat because you're reneging on a promise you made to me."

"What promise?"

"Not to be a total prat when you asked her out!"

Scorpius sat down, sighing. "At least it wasn't me who was totally humiliated."

"Where's your subtlety, mate? Did you honestly think she wouldn't notice if three different guys started hitting on her in the space of, what, five hours?"

"She thinks they're trying to steal department secrets, she doesn't suspect me –"

Finch placed his head in his hands, then changed his mind and took a swig of butterbeer instead. "That's not the point, mate, you've got to be subtle about this. Smooth. And if you keep going up to check her reaction after every bloke it's only a matter of time before she reaches the obvious conclusion!"

"So what am I supposed to do? I already realised the pick-up lines weren't going to work, you don't need to tell me that too."

"You can try not overwhelming her for a start!"

Okay, maybe he had been a little too enthusiastic to get his plan off the ground. But he couldn't exactly be blamed for that, could he? He'd been Rose's best friend for so long – and her secret, unrequited lover for most of that time – that when this idea had popped into his head, he'd jumped at the chance to show her how he felt.

Anonymously.

On the other side of the bench, Finch put down his glass. Scorpius could feel his gaze, but he couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye. He knew what he was going to say: Lose the disguises, mate, and man up and ask her out for yourself. But he wasn't brave, he wasn't confident, he wasn't Finch –

"Look, Scorp, I know you think I'm going to tell you to give up on this stupid plan, but I figure you're going to go through with it whether you have my blessing or not so the least I can do is help you not screw up completely. What's the plan from here?"

"Uh..."

What was the plan from here? He hadn't exactly thought past the first few pick-up lines, to be honest. And collecting hair on the Muggle subway, so Rose wouldn't recognise anyone she knew in the wizarding world. Which was sort of creepy, and he'd gotten a few strange looks – but how was he supposed to know Muggles didn't dust off each other's jackets all the time? They certainly got up close and personal enough in peak hour...

"Why don't you tell me?" he asked suddenly. "You're the one who's always getting girls. I've had exactly one girlfriend, and that was Moira in fifth year for about three weeks, and all that happened was I realised I was mad for Rose bloody Weasley. And she dumped me, so if you have any tips for not getting rejected by girls, you have a captive audience right now."

Finch grinned.

Uh oh.

Scorpius stepped into the elevator, whistling. Today was the day. He'd done exactly as Finch had suggested – even if his advice had meant a splitting headache the next morning, thank Merlin for hangover potion – and waited a week before making his next move, but now it was time to act.

A small, dark-haired wizard stood in the corner. "Malfoy," he acknowledged, before burying his head once more in the Daily Prophet.

"Ackerley."

The ride passed in silence. Level 7... level 8... finally the elevator shuddered to a stop, its metal grate opening with a rusty groan, and Scorpius and Ackerley stepped out into the corridor.

"Oh – Malfoy. Bletchley wanted to speak to you yesterday. Might want to check in with him before you start."

Scorpius rolled his eyes as Ackerley disappeared into the Entrance. Bob Bletchley was possibly the most excruciatingly boring boss in the entire Ministry. He always tried his hardest to look attentive and respectful around him, but when it was eight in the morning and he'd stayed up nearly all night sweating about how to approach Rose – well. He wasn't one hundred percent confident he'd be able to keep his eyes open.

The black door appeared again, and Scorpius made his way to what was affectionately known as the Other Chamber: the row of offices where wizards too set in their ways to do any significant research were sent to live out their days shuffling paperwork. Wizards like Bob Bletchley.

"Mr Bletchley?" he called, after three short knocks. This door, too, held a gold-lettered sign, but unlike the one on Rose's desk, the letters were peeling, the right corner of the frame looked slightly... chewed?... and the –

"Yes?"

A portly wizard opened the door, his full beard not doing much to distract attention from the few straggling hairs on the top of his head. Scorpius, as always, repressed the urge to snigger. It wasn't his fault he was losing his hair. Or that his bald spot resembled a rather large chicken.

"Ah, Malfoy, come in, come in. Got my message then, did you? Ackerley catch up with you this morning, eh?"

"Yes, sir. In the elevator."

Bletchley peered at Scorpius. "Yes, well, it's about the elevator that I wanted to talk to you, actually. You've been spending a lot of time out of the office lately, I've noticed. Sit, sit. Y'don't mind if I take out your file, do you?"

Aw, crap. He was about to be performance managed.

"No, sir," Scorpius said with a straight face. "What seems to be the problem?"

Sighing, Bletchley leafed through the file. Scorpius couldn't help notice how thin it was. "I'll be blunt, Mr Malfoy. You haven't done an awful lot for this department in your time here, y'know. What can you tell me about your progress on your orientation project?"

Scorpius was half tempted to tell him it was classified. "Uh, it's progressing quite well, sir. I've been thinking of writing up some of my preliminary results in the next month or two –"

"Preliminary results?" Bletchley shook his head. "After three years in this department, you mean to tell me that you're at the stage of releasing preliminary results? Honestly, Malfoy, I expected better of you... your father might have stood on the wrong side of the war but he always showed promise... as did your mother, oh, she would have achieved great things here, great things..."

If he nodded, the motion would keep his eyes open, right? He heard this speech every time he came into this blasted office, and it hadn't exactly got him to write up his results in all the three years Bletchley had been saying it.

"...very diligent, but your projects never seem to lead to results for the Department..."

It wasn't through lack of trying. It was because he had literally nothing to submit. They expected him to stop time for them. Literally. That was his orientation project, the one they'd given him his first day on the job, when he'd been gearing himself up for a few years of doing the bloody filing. Oh, hey, new guy, won't you just stop Time for us? The whole passage of time thing has been annoying us a bit, get rid of it, won't you?

"...take some pride in your work, which doesn't seem to be displaying any of the elegance we expect..."

So Scorpius had completely ignored them. He figured if he worked on his project one day a week, he could spend the other four doing something slightly less impossible. Like filing.

"...what d'you think, Malfoy?"

Scorpius was good enough at this game to not let his start show on his face. "I completely agree, sir, I'll get right onto it."

To his surprise, his favourite tactic didn't work, because Bletchley suddenly started scribbling on his file. "That's what you say every month, Malfoy, but my sup– uh, I'm starting to want to see the results of your research, or, uh, we're going to have to think very seriously about your future here in this department."

Bloody hell.

They were bringing Bletchley's superiors into this? He was about to be fired. He might as well submit his resignation now and get it over with. There was no way in Little Whinging he'd be able to get even the slightest bit of information out of this stupid project. And where was he supposed to go after being fired from the Department of Mysteries? Magical Maintenance? Yeah, dad would really appreciate that...

Bugger it. His plans with Rose could wait another day – or rather, Roland Knightley's plans could wait. Scorpius Malfoy needed to talk to his best friend.

A small cheep was the first of the warnings, then the entire room erupted into a chorus of whistles, chirps and bells. That was one of the advantages of working in the Time Chamber – you always knew exactly when lunchtime was.

Finch looked up from his position opposite Scorpius. He hadn't been there all morning – in fact, he hadn't even been in the Chamber until nearly eleven. Scorpius knew he wasn't allowed to mention it, but he'd had a sneaking suspicion for a while that Finch was starting to take on full-blown Unspeakable projects. It didn't do much to lift his mood. Even Finch, his buddy, his best mate, even Finch was moving ahead in his career while Scorpius languished in the trainee corner.

He looked guiltily at the small jar he was supposed to have been working on. He hadn't, of course; who could stop Time? Instead, he'd messed around with a new spell he'd been working on. It wasn't much – nothing the Bell Jar couldn't do – but he'd been curious about whether he could change the acceleration of the Jar's effect. It got boring watching that damn egg/bird transform at the same pace, day in, day out.

"Going to do your magic?" Finch asked, grinning.

Scorpius shrugged. "I might just go have a chat to her as myself today. I haven't seen her all week – we've got a lot to catch up on."

"Suit yourself," and Finch went back to his work, whistling the same damn tune Scorpius had before his disastrous meeting with Bletchley. Scorpius cursed his cheerfulness half-heartedly as he left the room.

Ten minutes later he was knocking on Rose's door – only to have the door flung open in his face.

"Rose!"

"Scorpius!"

She looked down at the papers in her hand, just as he shoved a glass of office punch vaguely in her direction. "Want to go have lunch?"

"Actually, Scorp, I've got this meeting and –"

Right. The high-flying magical law graduate was hardly going to put having lunch with a bloody spell monkey over an Important Business Meeting. He suddenly wished he hadn't come at all.

First Bletchley, and now even Rose was too busy for him.

"No worries," he mumbled. Dumping the two cups of punch on someone's desk – he didn't really care whose – he walked away quickly, willing himself not to trip while she was watching.

"Scorp?" he heard her call out uncertainly, but he didn't think he had the nerve to turn around without breaking down. So he didn't look back, didn't even look up until he reached the safety of his elevator. He watched the turn approach bleakly, not bothering to steady himself as the elevator turned sharply and started its descent.

Because this definitely wasn't his lucky day.

Back at his flat, Scorpius threw his backpack down with a scowl. The rest of the day had been just as productive as the first part – less, in fact, since Finch had gone all responsible on him and told him to work on his project. It was all very well for Finch. All he'd had to do was some Time-Turner refinements. Scorpius wasn't even sure what his project had involved – since he'd finished his work before Scorp had even been recruited!

He looked around the room critically. Usually he found the flat comforting; today it just looked empty, his years of automatically cleaning up after himself at Malfoy Manor reflected in the neat row of photographs on the mantlepiece, the bench, wiped clean and glowing dully in the light from the window – even the way the couch made a perfect right angle with the coffee table, dammit.

He suddenly felt the urge to shift it – just slightly – just enough to disturb the perfect order of the place. All that nagging from his parents might have left him a very tidy flat, but what was the point of that if your life was going exactly nowhere?

Dammit.

He sat down, next to the couch instead of on it, pulling his bag along the floor as he went. Reaching into the front pocket, he pulled out a small vial.

"Essence of Knightley," he whispered to himself. Roland Knightley was a Daily Prophet intern, just starting to make a name for himself, though he'd only been writing bit pieces up until now, the ones in the middle of the paper where they didn't always bother with the attribution because no-one read them anyway –

Rose's words flashed into his mind. "Actually, Scorp, I've got this meeting..."

No.

Knightley had to be perfect. Rose was going places, she wouldn't go out with a lowly Prophet intern. Knightley had to be – special. Someone who was going places too. Someone who was just – bloody – awesome. Someone like –

– Her uncle Charlie, the fricking dragon tamer. Congratulations, Roland, Scorpius thought with a grin. You just got yourself a promotion.

He'd made his name in – it couldn't be Romania, or she'd mention him to Charlie and the game would be over before it began. Uh, they trained dragons in Wales, right?

Roland was gonna be epic. If a spell monkey from level 9 wasn't worthy of Rose's time – and Scorpius couldn't exactly blame her – then only the best would be. Roland was rich, successful, handsome, funny –

Handsome? Come to think about it, Scorpius didn't know what this particular man even looked like! Fair enough, it hadn't mattered when Roland was just an intern but Roland Knightley, dragon tamer, needed to look good. Really good. As in, Rose was going to be falling over herself to date this guy.

In a way she'd never fall for Scorpius Malfoy.

Rose sat alone at a table in the front window, reading the latest edition of whatever country's wizarding paper she was working on this week. Scorpius – as Roland – checked his reflection nervously in the mirror, then checked himself. Roland didn't get nervous before chatting up random girls. Roland just barged in and –

"Mind if I sit here?" he was asking, before he even realised he'd walked up to her table.

She looked up. "Uh, sure," she said politely. "Have a seat."

And she went back to her paper.

A setback for Scorpius Malfoy, he thought determinedly, but not for Roland Knightley. "Roland," he said smoothly, then risked a cheeky grin over the top of her newspaper.

"Rose," she said shortly.

"Anything interesting today?" he asked, nodding at the paper. Okay, so it wasn't exactly loverboy material, but even the most charming dragon tamers had to start somewhere.

Finally she looked up. "Goblin uprisings over Gringotts wages."

Oh, please. As if there wasn't anything more interesting than that. Whenever he asked her that question she picked the most bizarre stories she could find. Cat lady sued over experimental whiskers, Blast-ended skrewt at centre of international custody case, that type of thing.

"There go all my fantasies of being a rich banker one day," he joked, catching her eye, and she gave a reluctant grin.

"Not on the Gringotts payroll, then, are you?"

"Ha. I wish. What are they complaining about, only getting fifty Galleons an hour instead of two hundred?"

Scorpius got the sudden impression she wanted to swat him. Maybe that had been a bad move – making jokes to Hermione Granger's daughter about racial stereotypes. But it was fine, he reassured himself. Knightley wasn't to know her soft spot for underappreciated magical races.

Besides, his fantastic good looks would easily make up for a few slip-ups.

In front of him, Rose pursed her lips. "This is actually quite a landmark case," she said seriously. "Goblins might run Gringotts, but their payscales have been regulated by the Goblin Liaison Office since the 1668 Urgrog Rebellion. Regulation was probably the best move back then, compared to the obvious alternative – but since Voldemort reinstated the pre-1865 charts..."

This was her way of responding to a guy trying to chat her up? Bore him to tears and remind him of bloody Binns' neverending lessons?

"Aww, cheer up, sweetheart, with someone as smart as you are championing their cause I'msure they have nothing to worry about." This was easier than it looked! All he had to do was say all the compliments he wasn't allowed to say as himself! "Why don't I buy you a coffee and you can tell me all about it?"

Hmm. If only he knew how to wink...

"I'll have tea, thank you. And I can get it myself," she told him sharply, before summoning a waitress.

"Suit yourself," said Scorpius, as she took down Rose's order. "The same for me, thanks," he added to the waitress.

She left, and Scorpius was relieved to note that she'd put down her newspaper. This was his chance. His one opportunity to impress the girl he'd adored for six years. And if he failed –

Well. He'd have to go on another mission to the Muggle subway.

"So, Rose," he began, leaning back in what he hoped was a suave and confident manner. "What else interests you, besides your obvious passion for goblin rights?"

She grinned. "Elf rights, centaur rights, mermaid rights –"

"Say no more! You're obviously a damsel in shining armour, come to bring equality and fairness to all creatures great and small..."

"It's why I work up there," she told him, reverting to serious mode as she waved in the general direction of the Ministry office. "Treatment of non-human magical folk varies so much in Europe that even a hundred kilometres could be the difference between being slaughtered for sport and being legally accepted as almost human. My goal is to see Europe legally united against cruelty and discrimination just because we're different."

Scorpius could have listened to Rose for hours. In fact, he'd done just that on multiple occasions in the past – he figured if she had to sit through his terrible Time analogies then he could jolly well return the favour. But Scorpius was Rose's friend, and Knightley – well, Knightley wanted to get into Rose's pants.

He snuck a glance at her chest and was strangely disappointed when she didn't catch him.

Damn oblivious Rose.

It was time to introduce his biggest weapon – Finch's trademarked flirting tips, which he swore had absolutely nothing to do with the battered copy of 12 Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches he kept in his bathroom.

"Touch her arm gently, so she knows you want to get physical." That didn't sound too bad. And neither did getting physical, so Scorpius uncrossed his arms and casually rested one on the table between them.

"That's so amazing," he said, half sincerely and half wincing at the tripe coming out of his mouth. "Say, I work with magical creatures too. Not the nearly-human ones, but I think they're pretty smart nonetheless."

"Most magical creatures are - with the possible exception of blast-ended skrewts."

Was that a teasing note in her voice? And when he said teasing, he meant something like Merlin's pants, is she flirting with me? His heartbeat quickened. How come he could never think straight around her – when she started playing battle of wits he completely lost his!

Well, he was fine when he forgot about the whole 'she's a girl' thing.

It was only when she leaned over and he got an eyeful of her bra that his brain went flying out the window.

"Better than skrewts, I promise."

Leaning forward was a good thing, right? She had to be interested. If Scorpius' heart had been beating quickly before, now it was a bloody bludger, hammering against his ribcage like it wanted to – uh, escape and smash her face in? Maybe not...

Oh, bugger it. Pretending it was no big deal, he moved his hand over and – gasp! – touched her arm.

She noticed. And looked over at him in shock.

Then she smiled. "So what are they, then?"

Oh, that was absolutely a flirtatious glint in her eye right now. He raised an eyebrow in return, unable to keep a grin off his face as he played his trump card. "Dragons."

She stared at him for a moment, and Scorpius suddenly had the strangest feeling that she was... disappointed?

She stood up. Wait, what? Thirty seconds ago she'd been gazing into his eyes and suddenly she was leaving?

"It was very nice to meet you, uh, Roland." She smiled tightly. "I lost track of time. I'm sorry, I have a meeting now that I have to attend."

She couldn't escape now! "Let me walk you to the Ministry," he offered desperately – er, no, suavely. Yes. Suavely. He coughed.

Smooth.

"I'll be quite fine, thank you."

No need to act desperate. "See you around, then, Rose." But then – just because he was feeling particularly courageous today – "I'm heading out to the Leaky tomorrow after work – if you're up for a good time I'm sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves for the rest of the night..."

Yes, there it was: the immediate eyeroll, quickly disguised by the lowering of her eyelashes, then the turn of her head as she gave him a quick smile and walked away from him.

What the hell had just happened?