Current mood:	calm
Entry tags:	*fic, character: hugo weasley, character: rose weasley, character: scorpius malfoy, fandom: harry potter, genre: general, genre: humor, genre: romance, gift, rating: pg, ship: scorpius/rose

Nor Hand, Nor Foot
Title: Nor Hand, Nor Foot
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Scorpius/Rose
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,200
Summary: Hugo ignored her. “It’s my brotherly obligation to disapprove of your book choices. ‘Cause, clearly”—he gestured to the copy of Romeo and Juliet that she was still clutching in her lap—“that Muggle stuff Mum’s been feeding you is a bad influence.”
Author's Notes: For snoorella at the Multi-Fandom Request-A-Fic Meme-Type Thing. Title is from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet ("What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, / Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part / Belonging to a man..."), as are a few quotes within the body of the story. Mr. Darcy belongs to Jane Austen; Heathcliff belongs to Emily Brontë.

Nor Hand, Nor Foot

O Romeo Scorpius, Romeo Scorpius! wherefore art thou Romeo Scorpius?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet Weasley.

“Seriously, Rosie? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

Rose Weasley gasped loudly at the sound of her brother’s voice, her book and quill toppling to the floor. In her haste to retrieve them, she accidentally knocked her forehead against the table, and managed, simultaneously, to upset a spare bottle of ink.

“Wow. And I thought Teddy was a klutz.”

A line of black liquid trailed down her arm, and she turned round to glare at Hugo.

“You just startled me,” she informed him primly. “That’s all.”

Hugo grinned at her. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Did you want something?”

He shrugged. “No, not really. Just wanted to see what you were reading.”

Rose scowled. “You’re bored again, is that it? You really ought to get some friends.”

“I have got friends. I just enjoy badgering my big sister.”

“Apparently.” She rolled her eyes. “Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded—O’s all around for Hugo Weasley. You’re welcome to go away at any time.”

Hugo crossed his arms. “Nah. I reckon I’ll stay.”

“Fine. Just don’t talk to me.”

Much to her chagrin, he sat down beside her and began patting her shoulder gently. “No can do, Rosie. See, it’s my brotherly obligation—”

“You’re thirteen,” Rose said dryly. “You don’t have any brotherly obligations except to leave me alone whilst we’re at school.”

Hugo ignored her. “It’s my brotherly obligation to disapprove of your book choices. ‘Cause, clearly”—he gestured to the copy of Romeo and Juliet that she was still clutching in her lap—“that Muggle stuff Mum’s been feeding you is a bad influence.”

“It’s not a bad influence,” she protested. “It’s classic literature.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s made you go mad.”

“I have not gone mad!”

“Oh, yes. Yes you have.”

“I have not.”

“Have too.” Hugo snatched the book from her, and flipped to Act II, Scene II—from which she had been reading before he had nearly frightened her to death. “You see?” He pointed to where she had crossed out Romeo and written Scorpius, instead. “It’s got you all excited about ‘forbidden love,’ or something stupid like that, which has got you fancying the pants off Scorpius Malfoy, which, in turn”—he paused to take a deep breath—“has got you desecrating books. You’ve desecrated a book, Rosie. Classic literature. Last I checked, writing in books was a sin—least, it was last time you hexed me for it.”

Rose blushed, and scrabbled to grab back her book. Hugo held it out of her reach.

“I mean, I don’t really get the whole appeal of ‘forbidden love,’ or whatever,” he continued. “Seems sort of stupid. But girls just eat it up, don’t they? I swear, Pandora Zabini’s been eyeing me all week, and I’d bet you anything it’s because she heard me on Monday telling Al I’d rather die than date a Slytherin. S’just illogical stuff.”

“Romeo and Juliet has not got me ‘all excited’ about forbidden love,” Rose snapped weakly after a moment. “And it hasn’t got me all excited about Malfoy, either. I really couldn’t care less about him.”

Hugo pulled a skeptical face. “You desecrated a book with his name, Rosie,” he reminded her. “Your denial’s sort of sad.”

“Well—”

“Actually, what’s even sadder is you comparing Malfoy to Romeo, and yourself to Juliet.” He peered at her, suddenly serious. “You’re not planning to kill yourself, are you?”

“Hugo!” Rose exclaimed in horror.

“Right. Well. I s’pect I wouldn’t mind so much if you did, as long as you took Malfoy down with you. Er”—he looked at her uneasily—“not that you should go off and—”

“I am not going to kill myself, Hugo.”

“Well. That’s good.” He patted her shoulder once more.

“And…” Rose bit her lip. “It’s just a silly book, you know. It’s fiction.”

Hugo nodded. “Yeah. But you know… fancying Malfoy isn’t ‘forbidden love,’ either.”

“I—I know that. I couldn’t possibly be in love—”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course you’re not in love with him. You don’t even know him—which does make the fact that you wrote out his name so many times a little bit creepier—but, er… I just mean that it isn’t forbidden, or anything. I mean, Dad’d probably have kittens, but it’s not like he’d disown you. Mum either. And Uncle Harry’d probably approve, come to think of it.”

Rose frowned.

“What?” Hugo laughed. “Did that just take all the fun out of it?”

She swatted his arm. “Stop overestimating the situation.”

“’The Situation’? Is that what we’re calling your love life now?”

Rose made a face. “Ew. Hugo. I swear, if ever I hear those words come out of your mouth again—”

He held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. I’ll never have children.”

“Damn right, you won’t,” she nodded, casting him a crooked smile. “Now, are you un-bored enough to stop lecturing me and find someone your own age to pick on?”

He paused, pretending to consider. “Ah… yeah… I reckon so. Seems I’ve fulfilled my brotherly obligations for the year.”

“You don’t have any—”

As he stood, he clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sure, Rosie, sure.”

She tried to glower at him, but her lips twitched into a smile beneath his palm.

“Oh, and for what it’s worth?” he added, drawing his hand away. “I think you ‘n Malfoy could actually work. I mean, he acts like more of a Heathcliff than a Romeo, but maybe he’s just a Mr. Darcy in disguise.”

Rose gaped at him.

“See ya around, Rosie,” Hugo called cheerfully, and, as abruptly as he had appeared, he bounded away and was lost in the crowded Great Hall.


---

Scorpius Malfoy was sitting in Potions class, doodling absently upon the corners of his homework, when he felt something brush against his arm. Blinking—as his eyes had long since gone out of focus for the afternoon—he glanced down at his desk. Before him lay a small, folded piece of parchment; his own name was written on the outside.

Curiously, he unfolded it. Several words at the top seemed to be crossed out, but the rest was clear. It was probably, he thought, torn out of somebody’s notes.

'Tis but thy name that is my enemy

Hey. Wake up. :)

Scorpius arched a brow, and glanced up. The note wasn’t signed, and he certainly didn’t recognize the handwriting.

He was about to discard it and resume his doodling when he noticed a pretty, red-haired girl with a Gryffindor scarf staring at him intently. Once he caught her eye, she smiled.

Scorpius looked about the room. Everyone else seemed to be paying attention to the teacher, and there was no one else behind him for whom the girl could have meant the gesture.

He blinked once more, and cast her a tentative smile in return. When she didn’t look away afterward, he picked up his quill and turned over her note.

Hey.

Then he sent it zooming back to her desk with a flick of his wand. He was certain he must have seen her before, but he had never actually bothered to register her face. Probably because she was a Gryffindor.

Scorpius looked at her again, and found her scribbling away furiously.

Well. He wasn’t really one for house rivalry, anyway.