Once Upon A Midsummer

by Yochanan Suishoukin

It was supposed to be a vacation with bits of summer homework thrown in. But being stranded in a snowstorm in the middle of Welsh mountains doesn't stop Rose from dragging Scorpius into all sorts of trouble.

'It can't be that bad.'

Behind her, beyond the window, the snowstorm raged with the ferocity of an angry lion. As if that wasn't enough, some of the ice pattered on the window, announcing to its captives that they wouldn't be out soon, that they were at its mercy. It had been that way from the crack of dawn to the present, which was noon. It reinforced Scorpius's question of what had made him lose his mind enough to agree to come on this trip.

Scorpius fixed Rose a blank look and said, 'Sure.'

She huffed, not fooled. 'Come off it. It's bound to subside tomorrow. It's either calm before the storm or the calm after the storm, which is an absolute rule of the universe, and it can never go on more than a day.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Albus Potter gave a noncommittal nod; its assurance was diminished by the fact that he was engaged a vicious knight to rook battle with another Weasley (Hugo?). That was further evidence that he must have had some sort of damage to his mind—or sanity—because he would never have subjected himself to being surrounded by so many Weasleys.

He spun rapidly in his seat when he heard someone—the sorry Muggle Richard or something—chuckle. 'Sheesh, you kids.' He seized his Muggle girlfriend (Anya or some other two-bit name like that), who had been sitting on his lap, twisted her around and smacked his lips to hers with a sound worthy of a Bubotuber, down to its disgustingness. Both Al Potter and Hugo Weasley made a face; Scorpius was just too dignified to show his repulsion in such an open manner.

That was the other thing: what was he doing with Weasels and Muggles in the middle of nowhere awaiting his doom?

Oh, he could blame his Muggle Studies class as usual, especially the mad teacher who thought that staying in the vicinity of Muggles for at least three days of their summer holiday would make a good assignment (technically speaking, it was; not that Scorpius would ever admit it). Scorpius had planned to stay at the Leaky Lounge—with great reluctance, of course—as it was at the heart of Muggle business.

And then Rose Weasley, his classmate and the only tolerable Weasel, had skipped to him, chirped a sentence (being Rose, a sentence was at least a hundred words) or more about this "cool Muggle skiing resort—you know, Scorpius, the sport in which they strap boards on their feet and slid down the snowy hill of doom, and did I mention it was in Wales and is relatively Muggle-free compared to other places?" Some minutes later he had found himself acquainting his head with his desk because a Malfoy's word is a binding contract and he hadn't found a way to subvert it.

Then he had found out that they were going with a couple of the other Weasels and a handful of Muggles, and that they were all staying in the same inn. His bedroom wall had a new dent in it as a result of this realization.

'Are you even listening?'

His full attention shifted to Rose, who frowned at him with folded arms, fingers drumming impatiently. Scorpius, trying to survive, said, 'I'm sorry, no. The storm drowned out your voice.' Which was a complete and blatant lie since Rose's voice could be heard above ten Fwooper's cry.

She narrowed her eyes at him, saying, 'I'm getting something to drink. What do you want? Or food or whatever it is in the kitchen. Well?'

'I—think I'll just come with you.'

'I reckon there's a pack of shortbread biscuits somewhere in the pantry,' said the Anya, breaking off their exploration just long enough to say that before ducking sinking back into the armchair.

'Come on,' Scorpius muttered, rushing out of the common room too happily. Once outside, Rose giggled, replying, 'Nothing,' when he looked at her.

'How's your report going? I've already got six inches of my essay on how skiing is a strictly Muggle idea, really it's not that phenomenal or modern to not be copied by wizards. I think — '

Scorpius dutifully nodded whenever she paused for breath as he tried to remember where the kitchen was. From the entertainment room, turn right, straight down past five doors, then the first hall on the right, down the stairs, turn right —

'—you and Al would make a great couple, you know.'

'Mm—what?' He did a double take. She arched an eyebrow at him.

'You're not listening,' she accused.

'No, I'm...' He was saved the trouble of providing an excuse when they entered the kitchen and Mr. Palmer, the owner of the inn, bounced towards them.

'Hi Sam. Rose.' Mr. Palmer was a superfluous man with thinning hair and a great moustache: the picture of a pleasant mid-life. Scorpius approved of him because he dressed slightly less oddly than the rest of the Muggles at the inn. Slightly, because his waistcoat was a shade of puke green. It vibrated around his midriff region as he spoke with a nasal accent. 'Lovely weather, eh? If anything, there should be plenty of snow for tomorrow and we can use the sleigh.'

Poor substitution, Scorpius thought, though Rose thought otherwise. 'Really? You have a sleigh, Mr. Palmer? That's so cool! I've never ridden a sleigh before. Will we have reindeers dragging it?'

Mr. Palmer laughed loudly. 'You never cease to surprise me, dear child. Now, do I have the honor to serve you some food or is there anything else you'd like?'

'Oh, that's alright, we just came here for the biscuits—'

'Hot chocolate,' Scorpius droned, much to Rose's reproach, 'with those sticky white things.'

'Marshmallows?' Mr. Palmer laughed again. 'Where did you say you come from again, lad? No offense, of course, just curious why you speak like the British without their knowledge of things.'

'Karimata Island,' he said quickly as they had rehearsed before the trip, 'I had British tutors who are bound by the law to teach perfect grammar and spelling.'

'What are you doing down here, Mr. Palmer?' asked Rose, who was checking the cabinets for the biscuits and hot chocolate. 'Dinner is still five hours from now.'

'Precisely!' He waved at the refrigerator. 'I just wanted to make sure that I'm not preparing an imaginary dinner with imaginary ingredients. But first, hot chocolate. For the two of you?'

'For six,' Scorpius answered distractedly; a small sack of rice on the counter on the corner of the kitchen, which he had never seen before, had grabbed his attention. Some of the rice had spilled on the counter, so he played with it.

'I suppose I'll just make a pitcher. Just in case the three others want it as well.'

'I haven't seen George, Tim, and Julia since this morning,' Rose said, going through the drawers for who-knows-what. 'Have you seen them, Mr. Palmer?'

'No, can't say that I have. I just hope they're in their rooms and not somewhere in that madness out there.'

It would probably be too good to be true, Scorpius reflected, because the two Muggle males just couldn't seem to stop fighting for the female one unless the other (equally sickening) Muggle pair called them on it. He flicked the last grain into the sack, turned around, and faced the frown of Rose.

'I didn't say anything!'

'No, but you're thinking about it,' she muttered sourly, 'I wish you were serious about not being like your father and grandfather and the rest of your ancestors—'

'Well, I am,' he interrupted hotly, at the same time lowering his voice for fear of being overheard by Mr. Palmer. Fortunately, the inn owner was mumbling to himself, trying to determine whether or not he should go to the grocer's. 'Look, they're just so improper and annoying—don't even try to lie and say that they're not.'

Rose huffed. 'Fair enough. But Scorpius—'

'Alright, now we only need to wait for it,' said Mr. Palmer, and the two students snapped to him as he clapped his hands. 'Now what shall we do? I have one Exabytes of videos. Is something wrong, Sam?ams something wrong, Se who is hnically not healthy in the mind, but manages to live and be brilliant with it. ter the episode '

'Nothing', replied Scorpius with the best deadpan he could manage. The problem was, the prospect of torturing himself with the Muggle's favourite mindless explosions or, Merlin forbid, porn (Richard's favourite, which somehow Scorpius was often dragged into on the basis that he was a male) was enough to set off his mood for the rest of the day. Muggle videos were a little too loud or literal for his tastes. So he said, 'How long do you think the storm will last?'

'Ah, that's an easy question. And a hard one at the same time. You see, Sam, a snow storm can last any period between an hour and a week.' Here Scorpius blanched. 'A snow storm can come and go as it pleases, apropos of nothing and without any signs or announcements of just how it intends to be.'

'What about the weather forecast?' Rose asked. For some reason she was smiling.

'Or we can check the forecast.' Grinning, Mr. Palmer went to the refrigerator and tapped the thingamajig on it. Meanwhile, Scorpius had run out of rice to flick, so he ended up staring at Mr. Palmer's massive waistband, and wondered if all Muggles would end up like that. They seemed to be living very comfortably, almost like wizards do in terms of how much they actually needed to move. According to Rose, things were becoming more and more automated with the scary constructs known as robots running around at the Muggles' commands...

'Forecast says we'd see the sun at six this evening. That's the earliest.' Mr. Palmer clapped and rubbed his hands together. 'Right. So, how about those videos now, Sam?'

'I-I'd rather see the sleigh.'

'Sleigh? Have you never seen any of it, lad?'

'No, sir.' The way Mr. Palmer stared at him, as though he was spurting a blue hair at the moment, unnerved Scorpius, who tried hard not to blink or avert his eyes.

'I'd like to see it too!' And the way Rose said it, it was as if the sleigh was the world's best thing since wands. 'Please, Mr. Palmer?'

Still bewildered, Mr. Palmer shrugged. 'Sure—there's no law against it. It's in the garage. You do know where that is, right?'

Rose nodded vigorously, then spotted the hot chocolate and mouthed 'o'. Mr. Palmer, following her line of sight, grinned. 'Don't worry about these; about time I serve my guests something, don't you think?'

'Great! Thanks!' Within a heartbeat, Rose was already outside and dragging Scorpius to the hallway opposite of the one they came from. He jerked his hand off her grasp, scowling.

'What was that all about?'

She scowled back. 'I should be asking you that!'

'Oh, what the—look, I was and still am serious about not being like my family! For your information, I dislike his videos because—where are we going?' He finally realised that he raised his voice not just because of his temporary lapse in self-control but also because the sound of the storm was getting louder. He had also never set a foot on this part of the inn; if he had he would have remembered the ugly gargoyle leering at him from the ceiling.

'Oh, sure, like we don't have the ugliest, rudest, and most insufferable gargoyles back home! Your elitism is showing, Scorpius, despite you saying otherwise.'

Scorpius, baffled, slowed down as Rose sped up. He swore inwardly as he half-ran after her a few moments afterward, both for her insufferable precociousness and his inability to just leave her alone. He tried to justify the latter with the fact that he had absolutely no idea where he was at that moment, though something else within him laughed at the feeble excuse.

Scorpius followed Rose into a dark room which seemed to give no protection from the storm outside. It was noisy and very much colder than everywhere else within the building, he couldn't help but shiver and let his teeth chatter quietly. 'R-Rose?'

'I am not talking to you,' came the distant reply.

He frowned, wondering just how big the room was or where she was to make her reply sound so small and distant. He took two tentative steps forward, bumped into something rather sharp, and gave up. 'What are you doing in there and where are you?' He said loudly as his hands carefully went around his body to ensure that he wouldn't bump into something as dangerous as a knife. All of a sudden he was blinded by a bright light. He shut his eyes tight then slowly opened them little by little to let them adjust.

'I'm being sensible and getting us some light unless you like playing a blind man and run into all sorts of things because, you know, we're here to see the sleigh and not just feel it.'

'For Merlin's sake, Rose...' Scorpius opened his eyes, squinting slightly. The room had shelves full of things ranging from Muggle car tires to weird contraptions that Scorpius couldn't identify. The space in the room was largely taken up by two Muggle cars and a red carriage, like the ones he often saw in fairy tales picture books, except that instead of wheels the carriage had skis. Then he turned his head and nearly jumped. Rose was standing right next to him with crossed arms. 'How did you--'

She wordlessly strode to the sleigh. Scorpius opened his mouth—

--and Rose's shriek was the sound that he heard. Before he was aware of what he was doing, Scorpius leapt to her side, ready to pull her away. 'What's wro—' His voice died when he followed her line of sight.

The sleigh was not empty. In front and down of the seat, in a nook where he supposed the passengers' feet were supposed to be, was a man. A body, he corrected himself, because the man's eyes were blank and open and staring at Scorpius with a shocked expression. George, he reminded himself; Scorpius was staring at one of the Muggles who shared the inn with them; this was George, who together with Tim couldn't seem to stop their male posturing for Julia's attention, and who was the louder of the two. And who was now dead...

Rose made an odd hiccupping sound, which Scorpius gladly focused his attention to. Rose covered her face with her hands with her back turned against the sleigh, though she was still making odd noises. Scorpius hesitantly touched her shoulders. She unexpectedly hugged him, which he discovered to be not as objectionable as her sudden hugs had used to be. Rather, he would have loved to stay that way for a long time.

Staying like that for a long time in the proximity of a corpse seemed less pleasurable once he remembered the corpse part. Gently, he parted from Rose and approached the sleigh again while trying to keep his considerable trembling under control.

'What are you doing?' Rose squeaked.

'Just making sure he's...you know...' As soon as his eyes actually saw the body, he shuddered and turned away. He found himself turning his head back involuntarily, though he continued to shudder. The image in front of him didn't change, unfortunately. George was still pale, his eyes bulged, and his mouth was frozen in a half-parted state. It was as though he had been hiding in that nook when someone caught him by surprise and...he died. His heart had just stopped beating. Scorpius couldn't see external marks of assault or anything to prove the cause of the death (his lack of knowledge when it came to Muggle physiology notwithstanding).

'Someone put him in there,' Rose muttered from where she stood next to him, 'See?' She pointed at George's arm. 'The way that arm is bent? There's no way a person's arm can have that angle unless he's a masochist. I can't see any signs of bondages either so it must be post-mortem. After his...death.'

He stared at her, not exactly liking the strange glint in her eyes. He could have sworn that same glint had usually meant his doom. 'Right. So what do we do now?' He regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

Rose put her hands on her hips and said in her most business-like voice, 'Obviously we have to find the killer now. Who knows who the next target will be.'

'Yeah, us. Look, Rose, if there's anything I learn from Muggle pop cultures, it's that amateurs who stick their necks where they don't belong will get chopped off!'

'Oh, sure, let the whole world know, why don't you!' She took a deep breath, lowering her voice to above whisper. 'Listen, we don't know if we're even dealing with a sane person here. I mean—we don't even know the cause of the death! And don't tell me you do, because you clearly don't.'

'So I guess you don't want to hear what I think it was?' She stuck out her chin, so he spat out, 'Avada Kedavra.'

All colours drained from Rose's face. 'You think so too?' She looked back at the body, nibbling at her lower lip. 'I'm sure there must be some other Muggle explanations, but from our standpoint—no marks of physical struggle, no suggestions of poisons being used, and most of all the surprised expression as though he just suddenly dropped dead when he saw something—Avada Kedavra.' She shuddered. 'Scorpius, do you realise what this means?'

'Yeah. We're putting our skinny hides on the line by staying in an inn with a crazy wizard. Or witch. During a snowstorm and with no ability to escape.' His stomach churned suddenly, and he had to hold onto the sleigh because a sudden wave of nausea overcame him. Rose put her hands his shoulders.

'Scorpius, are you alright?'

He nodded absently, rising to his feet as he turned around. It was as though he had just seen the truth for the first time: that they were trapped with no escape in a Muggle environment where a murder that had been committed. The realization trickled down his spine like a bad bone flu. He glanced at Rose, wondering how she was managing. Judging by the contracted eyebrows and pursed lips, she was probably still thinking it was just a puzzle to be solved. He wished he could have been as carefree as she was sometimes—

'Merlin...Rose!' He gripped her wrist, which startled her and made her look at him warily. 'Think about it—if the, the murderer is skilled enough to use Avada Kedavra—he'd have known about us!' She blinked in confusion. He sighed and added impatiently, 'Please don't tell me that you've forgotten just how many enemies your family has. Or my family, for that matter.'

She raised an eyebrow, pulling her hand away from his. 'That's why we use false names, remember? Mind you, Sam Mansfeld is a tad easier on the tongue than Scorpius Malfoy. And,' she said loudly once she saw him opening his mouth to protest, 'it might not be a wizard who did it. Who knows what Muggles can do. My Mum always says that they are getting closer and closer to creating their own version of our magic.'

'That's not exactly reassuring.'

'It means that we must not discount any possibilities.' She drew herself to full height. 'At any rate, let's get out of here. Not to be disrespectful.' Here she glanced apologetically at George. 'But it's starting to seriously creep me out.'

Scorpius, too, glanced at the body and felt the desire to just run to the nearest fireplace, throw some Floo powder and then cower within the safety of his house, the International Statute of Secrecy be damned.

'You're not going to let this go, are you?' He said dejectedly as they made their exit. He looked hard at Rose's back, the only part of her body he could see. Even she was shaking slightly, but when she answered it was with confidence.

'Of course not. How can I do that in this situation?'

'No.' He rubbed his forehead tiredly. 'That's just the sort of person you are.'

She looked back, scowling, though as soon as their eyes met she shrugged. 'I guess I am.'

'You what?!'

Scorpius winced and slapped his hand over Albus Potter's mouth. 'Do they have to know?' He complained to Rose, who folded her arms at Potter's outburst.

'Of course they do. We need all the help we can get if we want to get through this,' she said.

Potter and Weasley exchanged glances. It occurred to Scorpius that they had been Rose's close family longer than he had been her friend, so they were probably more used to dealing with her antics. Scorpius wouldn't have to exert all his strength to restrain Rose.

'Here's how we'll do it.' She pointed her finger at Potter and Weasley, who seemed to shrink at her gesture. 'You two are going to talk to Richard and Anya. We are going to interrogate the rest.'

'Interrogate?' Parroted Weasley weakly.

'Well, not outright questioning! Be subtle. We don't want them knowing that there's somebody dead in the garage.'

'Why not?' Potter mumbled.

She scoffed. 'Are you kidding? Because we suspect that the murderer has a wand and can use it to cast Unforgivables, that's why! Unless you want the equivalent of 'kill me' pimples on your face—'

'Okay, we get it!' Weasley interrupted, looking around wildly. Fortunately Scorpius and Rose had managed to drag Weasley and Potter out of the room without the Muggles suspecting them of anything (or so they hoped—pulling Weasley out had caused the two lovebirds to look up). As they hunched together in their room, Scorpius saw Weasley and Potter exchanging looks, then both of them looked at Rose with the same expression of incredulity.

'What?' snapped Rose.

'How do we know this is not just one of your pranks?' Weasley said bravely. 'You can even have Malfoy here just to make it convincing.'

Rose's eyes flashed. 'You think I'm joking? About something like this?'

Potter shrugged. 'It happened before, remember? You said that James was drowning when he was actually up on a tree waiting to bomb us with water balloons.'

She growled. 'That was years ago! And anyway I'm completely serious! Don't blame me if this is the last time we see each other.'

'Rose! No jokes about death, remember?' said Scorpius.

Potter's gaze on him was unsettling, so he was glad when Weasley said, 'Fine, we'll be careful.' He nervously pat his waist band, where his wand was hidden under all the thick secondary clothes. 'You do have your wands with you, right?'

'Won't it get sticky if we use it here with all these Muggles?' Potter asked.

Rose shook her head. 'Self defense. I can't see why you're worried; I doubt Uncle Harry would let them break your wand. Besides, it is not like you have broken the law before.'

Potter's expression darkened, which no one but Scorpius seemed to notice. Rose clapped her hands, the determined glint returned to her eyes. 'Alright. Let's move out.'

It was the way Potter and Weasley moved, so resigned and sullen, that convinced Scorpius that things would not be alright; no one could stop Rose's suicidal attempts now. When Rose's hand fell on his shoulder, he knew he was doomed the moment he accepted her invitation to go to this ski resort.

'Shall we get started?' Without waiting for an answer, she strode out of their room with the gaiety of someone going out to play Quidditch. He swore silently, though he did follow her.

'Can't we just pretend we know nothing?' He whispered, knowing that he was waging a losing battle. 'Don't you know that our school motto is 'do not tickle a sleeping dragon', and I think that's good advice?'

'Oh, but we're not tickling a dragon,' she whispered back, excitement dripping with each word, 'Look, I'm not a kid, alright? I know that this is not a game, so please shut up while I do the talking.' As they had arrived in the kitchen and came within earshot of the people inside it, Scorpius grudgingly obeyed her. 'And act like nothing happened!' He tried to smile, though thanks to the ever-present image of George's body in his mind, the best he could do was a very toothy grimace. Rose, on the other hand, had no problem plastering the widest and stupidest grin on her face as she barged into the kitchen and proclaiming loudly, 'Hello again, Mr. Palmer!'

Mr. Palmer's face glistened with sweat, but as he looked up from dicing carrots (Scorpius had a hard time stopping himself from envisioning the knife slipping out of Mr. Palmer's grasp and...no.), he broke into a grin as wide, or even wider, as Rose's. 'If it isn't Rose and Sam!' He wiggled the knife in air (which would then slide out of his hand and down onto...no.) before going back to cutting. 'You're awfully chipper. Something good? The storm winding down?'

'I'm afraid not, sir,' Rose chirped while for some reasons she stepped on Scorpius's foot, 'Nice sleigh. Mm, smells good. Is that tomato soup?'

'Yep, my granddad's secret recipe.' Mr. Palmer scooped up the carrots and dumped them into the hulking and boiling pot in front of him. 'Lack of it, anyway. I just threw in everything I thought a tomato soup should have and everyone seems to like it. Ha!'

Rose chimed in with a very high-pitched laughter, which relieved Scorpius somewhat since she was at least slightly nervous. She even fiddled with the hem of her jumper as she asked, 'Have you seen Tim, Julia, or—or George, Mr. Palmer?'

Mr. Palmer, who was stirring the dinner with full concentration, didn't see her biting her lower lip. 'Still haven't. Do you need something with them?'

'N-Nothing! Well, just that—'

'We haven't seen them,' Scorpius said quietly, 'so we were a bit worried in case they are out there or in some other trouble.'

Rose shot him a grateful look while Mr. Palmer answered, 'You won't really have to worry about that. This dingy inn's got an automatic lock in case of things like this. Storm and the likes.'

'Automatic?'

Mr. Palmer's knife made a particularly loud sound as it sliced through a potato. 'Oh, yes. As soon as the storm started it locked down.'

A sudden uneasiness made Scorpius more alert, as was Rose who said carefully, 'When did you last see any of them?'

'Mmm...I think I saw the three of them down here yesterday—or was it today?' He snapped his fingers. 'Oh, right, it was midnight, so right in that awkward zone between yesterday and today.' He chuckled, though the teenagers were in the mood to join. 'Well, I was just passing by, you know, checking stuff. I really should have had a robot for that, eh? Those tiny buggers are a pain to program—they have to be very specific and precise, you know—so I'll pass. Anyway, when I saw the three of them in the kitchen. I didn't know what they're doing but it didn't look like a row so I left them.' He stopped stirring, staring at the wall in deep thought. 'You know,' he said slowly, 'I think I should probably check on them after this. A flu in this kind of place at this time is not good.'

'Uh, sure.' Scorpius racked his brain desperately for anything to say. If Mr. Palmer went ahead and did that, there was no telling what the murderer would do once his deed was announced...

He was saved the trouble of finding a new topic when Anya poked her head into the kitchen and sniffed loudly. 'Oh, my. Smells lovely, Mr. P.' She swaggered in, followed by her boyfriend. 'Tomato? Can I try?'

'Hohoho, sorry, but no. Granddad always said that a dish tasted before its time is a dish spoiled.'

'Hey, what is that?'

Scorpius jumped out of his reverie. Anya was pointing at his hand, which had by habit gone for the wand on his waist. 'It's nothing,' he muttered, immediately pulling his jumper hard over his waist, wondering if his heartbeat was loud enough to give his panic away. Rose's bulging eyes, which were directed towards him as though it was his mistake, didn't help.

Anya, missing the exchange between them, cocked her head to one side and stepped closer, which caused him to step backward. She tried again, only for him to repeat the same reaction. She rolled her eyes, though she did stop trying to approach him. 'Oh, come on. There's nothing shameful in cosplaying.'

Scorpius's eyes flickered to Rose, asking if it was some secret word they should have known. This induced another eye roll from Anya and obnoxious snickers from Richard. The latter said, 'Wow, I didn't believe that someone as pale and Caucasian as you two could come from a tropical island Lord-knows-where, but, man, some people don't know what cosplay is?' His laughter pretty much died when Scorpius eyed him sharply. 'Oh, you're serious. Well, costume play? Dressing up as fictional characters and having mass orgies in those cool and impractical clothings?' He gestured at Scorpius's waist—Scorpius self-consciously covered it with his hands. 'You're playing fairies, right, with a stick like that?' He concluded with a smirk. 'No self-respecting wizards would wield anything less than a knobbly staff.'

Anya swatted his arm. 'Oh, get real. They've got to be magicians. Pointy hats, batty robes, right?'

As Scorpius's blood was rushing away from his brain, it stopped functioning; he just stared at her and the wand with very wide eyes and terror gripping his heart. It's over, he thought desperately, these blasted Muggles have found out...

Out of the corner of his eye, Rose nodded a second later. 'Uh, pretty much.' Her head jerked weirdly when Scorpius glanced at her. He in response mimicked her stiff shake of his head in refusal to take over. Her upper lip twitched briefly as she replied, 'Look, it wasn't exactly a safe topic back home, so...'

Much to Scorpius's horror, Anya just tilted her head from one side to another with an unreadable expression. 'That's back there. Here, we love that sort of thing, so don't be ashamed.'

'It—it's complicated—more difficult than that.' Her eagerness was scaring him. 'The, ah, robes are...are...'

All thoughts about plausible reasons flew out of the window once Richard giggled haplessly. 'You kids are so adorable when you're fumbling like that.' He hugged Anya's shoulders, acting as though he was smelling her hair (which was probably the truth, and which made it even more disgusting). 'You know,' he said to her, 'if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're more interested in them than in me.'

Anya's giggles were scratching Scorpius's ears. She pushed her partner away playfully, 'Not in front of the kids, Dick.' Yes, Scorpius thought, because you haven't been doing it all of the time while being fully aware that you're scarring us mentally. Anya tugged Richard with the most pathetic look Scorpius had ever seen she had. 'Come on, somewhere—mmm...'

The next thing he remembered was Mr. Palmer laughing, someone dragging him somewhere, and their host saying, 'Dinner will be ready in a few minutes so hold onto whatever you want to do!'

'Huh?' he said once they were in the safety of their room, wondering why Rose was red from top to bottom.

'We can write Anya and Richard off the list,' she answered breathlessly, 'and please do not ask.'

He stared at her. 'What?'

She got even redder than Mr. Palmer's soup. 'Shut up. Please.'

'Bloody hell I will. You just cross off two suspects without any evidence whatsoever.'

'Oh. Why didn't you say so? Did you actually pay attention, Scorpius?' She seemed to be trying to lessen her blush with her mind. 'The way they acted very Muggle-ish at the sight of your wand? Which, might I add, needs to be hidden better?'

'Yes,' he snapped, 'I noticed that we did the same thing with our wands.'

'Well, I don't see how that can be an act; they were too spontaneous even for the best actors.'

'Yes, I'm pretty sure I can take your word for it.'

Rose glared. 'What's your problem?'

He glared back. 'Like you'd ever listen to me.'

'Damn it, Scorpius! I always listen to you whenever you even bother to open your stupid mouth!'

Just as he was about to reply Weasley and Potter barged into the room, falling on top of each other. 'Did you two really mean that to be heard all the way across the hall?' Weasley panted, followed by Potter's, 'You won't believe what we just found!'

Contrary to how Scorpius felt, Rose beamed as though they were going to tell her that the summer holiday was going to be extended. 'Go on.'

'Well.' Potter rolled off Weasley. 'We thought we ought have checked George's room first, see, in case the murderer left something.'

'I see...?'

'Our bloke, George, was wangsty.'

'Wang—did you just invent that word?'

'My point—oh, stop that, just listen for a sec—he wrote a letter. To whatshername ('Julia', supplied Potter). Long story short, he saw the other two Muggles making out so he, wait for it, "has no more purpose in life and therefore is better dead than alive and suffering." Er, Rose.' Weasley became pensive. 'Did you really find him...you know...' His voice dropped to a whisper. 'Dead?'

'Yeah...' she replied thoughtfully, pulling at her chin. 'It doesn't match up, though...I doubt he was a wizard and offed himself. Someone had to stuff him into that sleigh.'

'I don't know,' Potter said after a long pause. 'We didn't exactly get to question Tim or Julia.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Well, that explains it.'

'Because we couldn't find them. Sheesh, give us some credit will you.'

'And anyway...' Potter said to the ceiling, 'There's...let's say, weird noises coming from the other room. I don't want to go there again, in mind or in body.'

Weasley suddenly propped himself up on his shoulders, staring suspiciously at Scorpius, who thought that for an inn in the middle of a snowstorm somewhere in the mountains of Wales it was still incredibly warm, especially when he looked at Rose. Narrowing his eyes slightly so that he could focus on her words, he heard her say, 'This is ridiculous. How are we going to find the culprit now?'

'We won't,' Potter said solemnly, 'Let's just call my Dad. I don't think it's smart to go on.'

Rose shook her head forcefully, but it was Weasley who said, 'I agree. Face it, we're just kids. Kids don't fight crime for obvious reasons.'

'So what do you want me to do? Act like everything is alright when I know full well that I'm eating dinner with a murderer? A wizard murderer?!'

'Yes!' Potter boomed. 'Precisely because of that! I for one do not want to end up dead just because I'm sticking my neck to where it doesn't belong!'

She didn't immediately answer, not even bothering to give her patented death glare to him. Instead she drew herself to her full height, making her seem taller than any of them, which was enough to send anyone running. In fact, Potter was just about to do that when she sagged in defeat, drawing bewildered stares from the others. She shrugged. 'You're right. Sorry, Al.' Rose twirled her thick locks with her index finger. 'Why don't you try contacting Uncle Harry? Somewhere very private, of course.' She got up and stretched noisily. 'I'll take a bath to cool my head.' She sauntered out of the room while whistling a song Scorpius couldn't recognise.

'What now?' Said Weasley after a while.

Potter shrugged. 'Call my Dad. We'll need a fireplace. You, Malfoy?'

Scorpius nodded absently as his mind whirred. There was no way that could have been the end. He knew Rose well, much too well for his own sake. The Rose he knew (and loved) wouldn't back off that easily without at least something bad scaring her off it forever. What made it worse was that she proactively sought that type of reaction. Scorpius was just as bad; he couldn't seem to quit getting involved in Rose's various hijinks. They were both addicted to pain, as it was.

He cursed himself.

'Malfoy?'

He grimaced. 'There's something I have to do.'

'You're and idiot, you know.'

She jumped, whirled and pointed her wand at him. He lifted his hands as though to block the incoming imaginary spells. 'Um, you can put that down now,' he continued after a few seconds with the both of them locked in that position.

'How do I know it isn't a glamour charm?' Nevertheless, she did put away her wand, frowning. 'You're not supposed to—what are you doing here?'

He scowled back. 'I should be asking you that. What the hell were you thinking hunkering down here with a corpse?' He was angry. He had been hoping she had been doing something harmless like doing homework instead of in a dark garage, crouching behind the Muggle vehicle she referred to as a Mitsubishi Horse-Something-Or-Another, alone with a corpse that smelled awful enough to potentially numb his nose for the rest of his life.

'Waiting for the suspect. For Merlin's sake.' She pulled him down to crouch beside her; his nose was almost inside the exhaust. 'You're going to ruin everything!'

'I beg your pardon? You're the one endangering your life!'

'Sshhhh! Quiet!'

He whispered, 'We're supposed to wait for Potter Senior, remember? Wait for the professionals, be good little kids and keep our heads on our shoulders?'

She looked away, staring at the sleigh. 'Good.' She clenched her fists. 'No one forced you to be down here.'

Oh, but you do, he retorted mentally, because he was too loyal and stupid to leave her to—

The door to the garage hissed, and both Rose and Scorpius stopped breathing. Scorpius found one half of his mind berating his heart for making a bigger noise instead of going into total silence, and the other half was a broken record of 'ohnodamnhereitcomesweredoomed'. The light flicked on, and in that momentary blindness as his eyes adjusted Scorpius's hand gripped Rose, perhaps to reassure himself or perhaps to stop her from just jumping at their suspect.

Then he peered and heard gasps, both from the one next to him and the very recognisable silhouette near the sleigh...

'Mr. Palmer?' Rose blurted very loudly. The rotund host's eyes were ready to jump out of their sockets as he rounded to them. Rose gaped, then pointed her wand at him with forced bravery. 'I can't believe this. You're a wizard?' Scorpius groaned softly, though he also gripped his wand, which was inside his jacket pocket, ready to curse Mr. Palmer if necessary. His heart thumped wildly, and sped up as something at the back of his mind nagged that something was wrong,. Was it Mr. Palmer's genuine shock, or the fact that one of his hands was behind his back? Or was it the fact that Mr. Palmer had absolutely no reason to kill George?

Mr. Palmer's hand twitched as his shocked expression was toned down to something Scorpius had never seen before. Actually, he had seen it on his father, which made it so much worse. He tensed when Mr. Palmer opened his mouth, but Rose beat him to it. 'I don't understand. What is the meaning of this, Mr. Palmer?'

Mr. Palmer's gaze on her wand was calculating. Even Rose saw this. 'I should ask you the same, Rose,' he said evenly. His eyes shifted to Scorpius, who nearly doubled back. 'Are those actual wands?' His cold eyes flicked to Rose. 'You asked if I'm a wizard...is that what you are?'

Rose didn't answer; her hands were shaking as she gripped her wand with both hands. Mr. Palmer's eyes kept flicking from the wand to her face but barely focused on Scorpius. 'Tell me, what can you do with magic?' Neither Rose nor Scorpius answered. 'Very well,' he said impassively.

Mr. Palmer's hidden hand blurred forward, then upward and back; it sparked; there was a sound of wood breaking along with a shriek and a thud. Then Scorpius saw Mr. Palmer aiming a firearm at them, Rose was on the floor, unharmed but apparently paralysed and wandless. Then Mr. Palmer's hand blurred and sparked again, something whizzed and pierced at the gap between Scorpius's feet, and he and Rose screamed in unison. Scorpius took a step backward, only to be stopped by the metallic click of Mr. Palmer's firearm, aimed straight at Rose.

'Put that thing down,' Mr. Palmer barked, 'Now! Your stick, boy!'

Scorpius only needed a glance at Rose to obey.

'No, throw it here. I'm not taking chances.'

He did so. Mr. Palmer caught it, then threw it to the ground and stepped on it.

Scorpius stared. Two wands broken while the Muggle still had his weapon. Mr. Palmer's sneer indicated that he knew this.

'A minute ago I thought that two scrawny teenagers were the assassin I hired,' Mr. Palmer said, 'It would have been so much better, fitting in well with this world.' He laughed softly. 'Innocent children my ass. That boy.' He waved his gun towards the sleigh. 'Came here pretty frequently ever since he was old enough to drive. Each time he had a different girl.' His eyes narrowed. 'Each time, I had to pretend nothing was going on. The screams? Oh, they were a pair of horror movie lovers. The bruises and blood? He had a fetish for clumsy girls. His father's pretty high up, you see, so nothing I could do about it.' His eyes blazed. The firearm clicked. 'So I hired someone to do it for me. Didn't expect it to happen here.' Click. 'You haven't said anything.' Click. 'My, my, children. You're nothing without your toys or your parents.'

Something touched Scorpius's hand. Rose's hand. He squeezed it, hoping that he could at least give her some reassurance that he himself didn't feel. She crushed his hand in return, though she was just as quick to let it go.

'Nothing but trouble...what should I do with you now? I was starting to like you too...'

A sudden noise from the door to the garage interrupted him, Mr. Palmer was startled and whipped his head around. Rose jumped and with a war cry raised a sturdy-looking pipe that was in her hand and brought it on Mr. Palmer's head. He let out a cry and shot the ceiling; stumbling back with his gun still straight while Rose was losing her balance—

As if in a slow motion Scorpius leapt forward, shoving Rose out of the way—

In an instant, his left arm was burning, and the only thing he knew was that it was causing him so much pain that he wanted to detach it just so the pain would stop. There was confusion all around him, Rose's screaming, people barging in, and the shouting only seemed to make the world darker...or brighter, he couldn't seem to decide...

His ears were ringing and he thought he heard someone calling his name...

And then he could clearly see Rose's face shining with tears and tainted with worry right above his, as she continuously called his name. He tried to shake his head to clear it, because the dizziness was starting to get to him and now the pain had moved to his chest, which Rose was sitting on.

'Rose?' He wheezed.

She gasped, covering her mouth, then proceeded to hug him. 'Rose? I need air? And I'm alright.' To prove his point, he waved his left arm, which was not as painful as before. 'See? Wizards can't be shot, remember?'

She hugged him closer. 'You idiot,' Rose whispered, 'You chivalrous idiot. I was so worried—do you know how pissed off I am right now?' She pinched his cheek.

'Is he dying?' Weasley said, suddenly appearing next to them.

'No!'

'Good.' It was a redheaded man who was so tall he could have touched the roof with his head. As the man lifted Scorpius by the collar and they came face to face with each other, the man's resemblance to Rose and Hugo Weasley became painfully obvious, especially the similar way their eyes narrowed when they were reasonably ticked off. 'Then I can hold him responsible for my kids.'

'Daddy!' Rose yanked at his sleeve, being so much shorter than him. 'Stop that! You know it wasn't Scorpius's fault!'

'What? Don't tell me you are trapped, wandless, down here with a mad Muggle on your own accord!'

'Actually...'

'Ron,' said another man whose face would only be unrecognisable to a three year old. 'I think that can wait.'

Mr. Weasley took one last look at Scorpius before dropping him. Rose caught him as she yelled, 'Daddy!'

'He's putting you in danger and you're shouting at me?'

'He saved me from Mr. Palmer!'

'Ahem, Ron?' Mr. Potter repeated, grabbing Mr. Weasley by the shoulder. 'This case is not going to sort out itself.'

Hugo Weasley perked up. 'Sort out?'

'Oh, the usual,' answered Mr. Potter vaguely, 'Apprehend, make sure no trace is left...Tell you what. In the meantime, why don't you kids tell us your story? As I remembered I gave permission for Al to go on vacation, not to get involved in a murder investigation.'

Rose tripped over herself explaining it, occasionally nudging Scorpius to help her. As they told the adults, Mr. Potter went around casting silent spells while Mr. Weasley never took his eyes off Scorpius, even as the Quick-Quote-Quill in his service scribbled their tale. It was making him extremely uncomfortable.

Finally, Mr. Potter nodded and said, 'Alright. I think you've been here long enough. Pack your belongings and wait for us in your room. Do not leave your room under any circumstances.'

'Not even for bathroom breaks?' Potter asked. One look from Mr. Potter wiped the stupid smile off his face and sent him and Weasley running. Scorpius walked slowly besides Rose, who seemed very subdued now that her father had arrived. Now that his arm had stopped throbbing, Scorpius found it hard to keep finding reasons not to hug her as a part of him wanted. In fact, that part of him was trying to do just that when she suddenly said, 'I'm still angry.'

Scorpius quickly withdrew his arm. 'At me? Shouldn't it be the other way around?'

She stopped walking. 'I thought you were hurt, or dead! Do you have any idea how that made me feel?' Rose jabbed her finger at him.

He frowned. 'Good, then perhaps you'd think of that every time you want to jump head first into trouble.'

Rose opened her mouth, thought better of it, and hung her head a little. Scorpius sighed and continued walking; he was starting to feel like he was walking through mud, and he couldn't wait to drop himself on the warm, soft, comfortable bed at home...

'Sorry.'

'Hm?' Was he sleep walking? He could have sworn he heard Rose apologising, only that she sounded as though she was talking through the wall.

'If what you meant was that my actions make you worry as much as I did just now then I apologise—are you alright?' She was yanking at the part he didn't know was still painful. He winced and jerked his arm away. 'Does it still hurt?' She poked at it. 'Sorry! I didn't mean—well, I didn't mean a lot of thing and apparently that's what hurts people. Doesn't it?'

Scorpius forced himself to look at her and saw Rose's big eyes becoming watery—oh, Merlin, she was not going to cry! He hated the idea of Rose crying; she always turned him into putty when she did that. Scorpius reached out and awkwardly patted her shoulder, the way she usually did to ensure him that everything was alright. Rose sniffed, which sent him into further panic. 'Rose...'

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, laughing lightly. 'Sorry. I'm tired and when I'm tired...you know me. Um, Scorpius?'

'Yes?'

Rose fidgeted. 'I meant it. Apologising, I mean, not putting you into danger.'

You're missing the point, he thought tiredly, but since Rose had stopped he beckoned her to finish – the sooner he got his rest the better they would all feel.

'What I'm trying to say – how about this, I need to make it up to you somehow.' She was wringing her hands, which made him dread whatever proposition she had in mind. 'We still have a long summer, but I was thinking—I was thinking, how about – let's say you and I are free this weekend...'

Here it comes. 'I'm free this weekend,' he said resignedly, 'as long as my mother does not see it fit that I should be confined to make up for the time lost here among the Muggles.'

She smiled nervously. 'All the better.' Rose tried to disentangle her curls; she had never succeeded before. 'We still have to do our homework, remember?' He groaned. She continued, 'I was thinking of changing my topic since this one ended disastrously. What about visiting a Muggle theme park? I mean, it's a concept we, magical folks, don't quite have. It is as though they need a special place to have fun or—worth investigating, at any rate.'

Scorpius bit his lip, carefully looking at the freckles between Rose's eyes and not on her eyes . 'Rose...'

'It will be an enlightening experience,' she insisted, putting her hands on her hips, 'we can have fun and do our homework, kill two birds with one stone. You can't go wrong with something like that. Oh, you can't count what happened tonight,' she said, as though answering his unvoiced objection, 'this was just some forces of the universe conspiring against us.'

'And that one won't?' He sighed. 'Fine. But promise me.' He paused, checking to make sure there were no Weasleys in visual or in hearing range. He looked back to Rose, whose hopefulness was starting to influence him. 'Promise me that we'll have fun, alright? No more mucking up with the weird. No mucking up with things beyond our ken, period.'

Rose squealed, hugging him. 'Oh, thank you, Scorpius!' She let go of him a year too soon. Rose clapped with glee. 'I promise you we'll have a wonderful time, just the two of us.'

For some reasons that made his cheeks hot. 'Oh, er, ah, yeah, sure.' He waved her off. 'Come on, let's pack before your father comes.' Maybe he subconsciously knew he was being an idiot, and that was why he was feeling vastly uncomfortable and very warm. He was a fool for letting himself get dragged here and there again by Rose Weasley, princess of mischief and trouble finder extraordinaire.

She hugged him from behind again, and suddenly he looked forward to the trip. Preferrably without any murders; he had had enough of that to sour his dates for a life time.