So, here's the last chapter! This is probably my favourite chapter of the three, maybe because I was in a more thoughtful mood than when I wrote the other two (the other two were written back-to-back in one sitting, whereas this one was written a day later). I hope it shines through :). Anyway, enjoy!


Life crawled on by. Rose was often struck by the strange similarity between her life and the lives of the heroines in Muggle war novels she had read. The first few months were the hardest, the summer holidays when even homework couldn't distract her from the fact that so many people she knew were out there, being killed or wounded, fighting for what was 'right', and here she was studying as though she didn't have a care in the world. Once, on one very hard day, she had reached into the back of her cupboard where the old dictionary lay, gone to the word 'jingoism' and crossed it out. She actually ended up obliterating it completely, so much had she come to hate that word. It was so stupid that just one little word could fill her with so much hate. Needless to say, she felt a lot better after she had done that.

The first term went by quickly, so quickly that she felt as though she hardly had any time to breathe. If somebody had asked her to look back on that first term of her seventh-year, she wouldn't have been able to remember much except for the miserable attitude in her dorm - most of her roommates had friends, relatives or boyfriends who had gone. One or two of her dorm-mates had even gone themselves.

Even years later, Rose remembered walking in on one of her roommates crying her eyes out sometime around the middle of the first term. Maybe that was when it hit her how much other people were suffering. She didn't need to ask why the other girl was crying - the whole school knew by then that the girl's brother had died in one particularly brutal fight. Suddenly, Rose couldn't believe how lucky she was - none of her family members had been anything other than lightly wounded yet.

The second term was much easier to bear. She had just become used to the whole idea of the people she knew being away. It sounded so harsh, so unfeeling, but it was true. Rose learned that she couldn't spend so much energy on wishing that something could be like this, when it simply wasn't. Most of the people around her also started to cheer up. Somebody had, again, announced that the war was finishing. Rose didn't really understand exactly why the war had begun in the first place. Not many resources, sure, but how did fighting help? Her father had tried to explain to her how people fought over what they thought was rightfully theirs, and another country thought that they had a claim to whatever it was as well, which was why this particular 'war' had started. Rose was beginning to think that maybe people were fighting because they didn't know peace - their whole generation was the first since Grindelwald to grow up without some kind of war happening in their lifetime.

It became obvious that something was changing, though. There started to be more food on the plates, more singing around the castle. One or two students even returned, although most decided to postpone coming back for their seventh-year until the new school year. Rose kind of hoped that maybe people would realise fighting didn't solve anything, and they would all come back home and think more logically about their moves. But, hey, life just didn't seem to work like that, did it?

Rose returned to her home for the Easter holidays. Normally, even up until the year before, her family had gone on some kind of holiday for Easter. This time it was decided that they would just stay where they were. More cheeriness was injected into the air, though, and her dad and brother started to argue about Quidditch again. Rose had never thought she would see the time when she was glad to hear somebody talk about Quidditch, but then again she hadn't predicted any of the events in the past half a decade or so of her life.

About a week before she returned to school, the weather turned ridiculously cloudy and miserable. Nobody wanted to step foot outside, instead deciding reading and playing boardgames was the way to go about life. Weasleys and Potters were crammed into the Potter household - everybody had decided it was Harry's turn to house the large family - and Rose began to feel as though she couldn't breathe, it was so crowded. Against everybody else's advice, she threw on a jacket, swung open the front door and stepped outside, feeling that a walk was in order.

The first drops of rain started pattering down about five minutes into her walk, but Rose didn't mind much. There wasn't the slightest whisper of wind, so the rain was peaceful rather than disturbing. It soothed her, allowing her the time to just wander around in her thoughts without somebody interrupting her with a story that she really didn't care about, which was what had been happening since term broke up.

Small puddles started to form on the dirt path that she had chosen to walk on. The path led away from the small town of Godric's Hollow and out into a more woody area. A crack of thunder sounded above her, and Rose smiled despite herself. Out here, it seemed as though she was just a little girl again, reading dictionaries and complaining about Quidditch. So much had changed since her eleventh birthday that it was crazy.

Rose hummed softly under her breath as she wound her way along the path. Damp leaves brushed against her hands and face, leaving streaks of wetness. Once or twice, her jacket snagged on a branch and she had to stop to untangle herself. A rush of nostalgia filled her as she remembered all the times she had done exactly the same thing, walking exactly the same route.

The rain increased and Rose ducked under a massive tree - she wasn't sure exactly what type of tree it was; she had never been good at Herbology. The minutes ticked by as she watched the rain drizzle downwards, racing away from the sky at miraculously fast speeds. Time seemed suspended.

Rose breathed in the smell of the damp forest, relishing it. She began to sing lightly - some Muggle song that her mother liked to listen to. For the first time since the war had been declared, she felt as though all her sadness and burdens had been washed away. Cleansed. She had never really appreciated how amazing it felt to not have to worry about anything but exams and homework. Incredible.

She heard soft footsteps squelching in the mud. Rose looked up to see a blond-haired figure making its way towards her. Her heart seemed to leap up into her throat, but she continued to sing unconsciously. No, it couldn't be him. He was away. In Germany, or France, or somewhere. Not here, not now. the figure drew closer and closer, until she could make out the features of the person. Yes. No. It was just a coincidence. He couldn't be here, he just coudn't...

He came closer still, until she could see the raindrops glistening on his forehead and in his hair. He was standing so close that, if she just reach out her hand, she would be able to touch him. A small smile curved his lips, and her heart decided to use this moment to drop into her knees. "I haven't heard you singing for a long time, Weasley."

She paused. Had she still been singing? "Is that really you?"

"No, it's your uncle Harry effing Potter," the boy - man - said. Rose smiled slightly. He had never been very fond of her uncle.

"Just asking. No need to be snarky," she murmured, but her eyes were glowing. A raindrop dripped off a leaf from the tree above her and landed on her head. She lifted her hand and touched her hair absentmindedly. "Was it very different?"

He didn't need to ask what she was talking about. "Yes. It wasn't as bad as the Muggle wars - they can't heal themselves like we can. Sometimes I found really civil opponents. Heck, I fought against one bloke who refused to use anything that physically hurt me. He died, though."

Rose inhaled sharply. It was so casual, the way he said it. As though it didn't matter when one life ended. She said nothing, gazing at the leaves on the forest floor, browning and soaked through. Half of her mind was screaming at her to ask more questions, but another half wasn't sure of what to say at all.

He noticed her reluctance. "You get used to it, Rose. The deaths. It sounds harsh, and maybe some people don't. I did. Maybe that was why I was put in Slytherin. Easier for me to tolerate violence."

His laugh was bitter. He had always been a bit cynical. Cynicism described him as well as jingoism, although Rose had always secretly thought they were a bit of a strange combination. Yet this bitterness was something else, something new. Rose found that she was more bitter now, too. Maybe everybody was but she just noticed it on him more, because she hadn't seen him since last school year.

"They let you fight so soon after you joined?" it was a stupid question. So stupid. But she had to ask. Lightning flashed in the distance, making his pale hair seem even paler than it usually was.

"They let anybody fight if you're persistent enough," he gazed up at the tree, not wanting to see her eyes, see the shadow in them. What he said didn't fit with her idea of the armies (she hated that word almost as much as 'jingoism') and their nobleness, genuineness. Liars, everybody who had said such wonderful things about joining up. That's what they all were in the end. Liars. How pessimistic was that thought?

"How did you know I was here?" she changed the subject, sensing that he wasn't keen to talk about it. She didn't blame him.

Scorpius turned to look at her, his smile returning to his face. "Your family said that you had gone out on a walk. I remembered you telling me ages ago that you liked to walk around in the woods, and they pointed me in this direction."

"You talked to my family?" Rose said sceptically. Boy, times had changed if he had managed to do that.

"Albus," Scorpius shrugged, scuffing the ground with his shoe.

Rose smiled brilliantly at him. "Albus is back, too?"

"Rosie, the war's over. For us, at least," Scorpius stared at her seriously, although the smile still lingered on his face. She found that she couldn't look away from him, taking in every little detail and trying her best to memorise them all.

"You've only called me 'Rosie' once before," Rose murmured, only half-thinking about what she was saying. The other half of her was involved in thinking about something more along the lines of how good it would be if she could hug him, kiss him again.

"Don't you want me to call you that?" he raised his eyebrows, and she punched him very lightly on the arm. This was new to her. He wasn't usually playful or joking at all, but she found that she loved it. She loved everything about him at this moment in time.

"Don't be stupid. I was just pointing it out," she laughed, and, although she didn't know it, the sound made him feel strangely breathless.

"Rose... you know, just before I left... I told you something," he started hesitantly. He didn't remove his gaze from her face, although she could see his cheeks going slightly pinker than usual. "I was just wondering if... you still feel the same way as you did back then? I mean, I'd be fine if you didn't... but... yeah... I just wanted to..."

She loved that she could make him ramble. She had never heard him ramble in front of anybody else except for her. "Are you accusing me of being fickle, Malfoy?"

"No... no, of course not," Scorpius hastily backtracked. "I just wanted to know... you know... I mean... it doesn't have to mean that you're fickle if your feelings change... it happens to everyone..."

Rose began to laugh. She stepped closer to him, so that their faces were only inches apart. How strange was it that suddenly all her worries seemed so completely obsolete, so utterly useless? All that mattered was this moment, what was happening right now. "Well, if it makes you feel any better... my feelings haven't changed."

A smile broke out on his face. Not just a small one, but a genuine one. He gazed down at her, and his eyes were glowing, actually glowing. "Well, I'm really glad to hear that."