Author's Note: I really struggled with this chapter, but I think I'm happy with where it ended up. Brownie points for anyone who catches the Gilmore Girls reference (I've been obsessed with that show as of late). The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman is actually quite a fascinating book, and I'd recommend giving it a read if you haven't read it.

Part III: Self-Inflicted

When Rose was eleven, the news that she had been Sorted into Slytherin wasn't as much of a surprise to her as it was the rest of her family. Al had essentially abandoned her for his new best friend Scorpius. The rest of her cousins didn't seek her out. She knew they had no idea what to say to her. She had withdrawn into herself. She sat alone at the Slytherin table for the first two weeks of school. She holed up in the library after class until dinner. After dinner, she'd sit in her common room with a book and listen to the sounds of the lake until pure exhaustion took over and forced her to retire to bed.

She didn't send a single letter home; she knew the whispers of her cousins spread across the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables like wildfire would eventually be heard by her family. The Weasleys gossiped like no other family, and so she knew that by the time twenty-four hours had passed, the whole Weasley clan would know that Rose had gotten Sorted into Slytherin. Her mother was the first person to send her a letter, after two weeks of radio silence from Rose.

Dear Rose,

I had hoped to hear the news from you yourself, but I understand why you would be hesitant to share it with us. However, Slytherin has gained an amazing student and there are plenty of incredible witches and wizards who came from your House. I have no trouble believing you will grow up to be one of them.

With that being said, how are you liking all of your classes? Which is your favorite? Mine was certainly Transfiguration. I imagine Professor McGonagall is still the same as ever. Who do you have for Defense Against the Dark Arts? In my day, they changed every year, so it's comforting to know that you'll have the same one every year, if he or she is competent. Give Neville my love when you see him and tell him he should come for tea on one of his free weekends.

Hugo has been climbing the walls with Lily because they're both so excited to go to Hogwarts. I think he feels the loss now that you're gone. He keeps asking when you'll be back and if you'll have any new stories to tell him. The Hogwarts gossip mill is always churning, and I imagine you'll have your fair share of stories when you come back for the holidays.

Please do write back soon. Your father and I have been worried about you.

All my love,

Mum

P.S. If you would like, I can arrange for you to meet with someone from Slytherin who's graduated over the holidays so you can talk to them. I'm sure you have questions. Maybe you could play chess.

Rose wasn't the weepy type, but for some reason after making it through the letter at dinner, she felt close to tears. A fifth-year girl who had been sitting near her scooted over on the bench and read over her shoulder.

"Sounds to me like your Mum has the right idea," she said decisively. Her blonde curls bobbed as she nodded approvingly.

Rose instinctively folded the letter closed, immediately on the defensive. "What?"

Cassie held her hands up. "Relax, Weasley. We're all family here. If your mum didn't support you, we still would. I'm Cassie Avery."

It was an olive branch. "Rose Weasley," she said quietly, shaking the girl's hand.

Cassie gestured another small blonde girl over. "This is my sister Clara. First-year like you. You should write your mum back though."

"I will," Rose said.

"What's that you're reading?" Clara asked, fascinated. She also had her sister's blonde curls, but her eyes were green in contrast to her sister's brown.

"Hogwarts: A Revised History. My mum wrote it," she said, sliding the giant tome down the table so Clara could read the book jacket.

They spent the rest of dinner talking about their favorite books and stories. Clara had a fondness for pranks and Rose had given her a couple of new ideas. Rose, on the other hand, loved Muggle cinema and Clara, who'd grown up in a pureblood family, was mesmerized by the whole concept. After dinner, when Rose had shown her Home Alone on her enchanted laptop, Clara had declared that Rose was her new best friend and that had been the end of that.

Rose wrote her mother back the next morning.

She ended up taking her mother up on her offer. The first Sunday of the Christmas break, Rose found herself seated across a chessboard with Draco Malfoy in his study at Malfoy Manor. Astoria and Hermione were exchanging book recommendations over tea. Scorpius was at the Potters' house in Godric Hollow, and Rose had only agreed to this on the condition that he never found out about it.

"Where did you learn to play chess?" Draco asked, as Rose made a move. This was where she was comfortable, Hermione had told him beforehand, and so he'd set it up. He could tell Rose was trying not to be unnerved by him; his hairline was starting to recede, but Scorpius was his spitting image, with the pointed chin, platinum blonde hair and grey eyes. It was hard for Rose to separate the two at first.

"My dad taught me," Rose said, with a smile. "My friend Clara wants me to teach her when I come back."

"Clara Avery?" he checked. He moved another pawn.

She nodded, as her pawn beat his to bits. "She's my best friend."

"Nice girl. Her sister's quite talented in Potions, so I've heard."

"Cassie is Slughorn's teaching assistant," Rose confirmed.

"Do you like Slughorn?"

Rose made a face. "He talks too much. And he's obsessed with my parents. It's weird."

Draco chuckled. "He's always been like that. He likes being around fame and notoriety."

"Well, it's annoying," she said flatly.

"Who's your favorite then? Obviously, it's not Slughorn."

"McGonagall," she said decisively.

"Really?"

"She's the only one that doesn't show favoritism by House and she knows what she's talking about. And she knows how to explain it properly. And she's obsessed with Quidditch," Rose added with some satisfaction.

"Do you play?"

She shook her head. "Just at home with my family."

"Well you certainly have enough cousins to start your own Quidditch league," Draco said dryly.

Despite herself, Rose laughed. "Yeah. But I play Beater usually."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Rose was not his typical idea of a Beater; she was reedy and tiny, even for an eleven-year-old. "I played Seeker."

"Did you really buy your way onto the Slytherin team?" she asked, wide-eyed.

Draco scoffed, as his bishop took her knight. "Your father probably told you that, but I did actually have the talent. They wouldn't have kept me on so long if I was rubbish."

"That's true, I suppose," Rose said thoughtfully. Her rook was currently hacking at his bishop in retaliation. "The Slytherin Captain wanted me to go over their strategies with him."

"Why you?"

"Because I told him that he wasn't paying enough attention to Hufflepuff's weaknesses and taking advantage of them. So, he wants me to go over their strategies when the hols are over," she said, shrugging casually. "Your son favors his left side."

Draco had to try really hard to not be impressed, but he was. "I wasn't aware he was trying out for the team."

"Him and Al were practicing after class one day. I saw Freddie running drills with them. He's a fourth year. They'll probably try for next year. McGonagall still won't let any first years try out for the team. She hasn't since Uncle Harry."

"Do you think Scorpius has a shot?" Draco asked, neatly sidestepping the issue of Harry Potter being the exception to every rule. While Draco of twenty years ago might have resented him for it, Draco of today had just let Potter have that one. Besides, Rose was eleven; he didn't expect her to care about his schoolboy grudges.

"Probably. Hufflepuff's Seeker is rubbish," Rose said dismissively. "Proper stupid. He couldn't find a Bludger until it hits him in the stomach. And Scorpius could fly circles around him."

"How is my son faring in Hufflepuff?" he wanted to know. There was a grudging respect in Rose's voice at the mention of his son. He was curious.

She shrugged. "He seems fine to me. I don't really talk to him that much," she said stiffly.

"Why not? I think you two could be friends."

Rose's shoulders hunched up defensively. "I'm pretty sure he has no interest in being my friend, Mr. Malfoy."

"If there's one thing I know about my son, it's that he wants to be everyone's friend," Draco said dryly. "It's probably why he went to Hufflepuff and not Slytherin."

Rose looked at the older Malfoy curiously. "How did you react when you found out Scorpius was Sorted into Hufflepuff?"

Rose was fidgeting and not meeting his eyes. He could tell this was a sensitive subject for her, so he had to tread carefully. "Well, I was surprised at first, but it made sense. He's the first Malfoy to ever be Sorted into Hufflepuff, but…well you've met my boy," he said almost ruefully. "He was born without that ruthless streak of mine and his mother's. He wouldn't be happy in Slytherin. I wrote to him and told him it was fine, and try to be the best Hufflepuff he could be."

"My dad hasn't written me at all," Rose said quietly. "He's away on assignment but he hasn't written me at all. I think he's angry."

And that was the root of why Hermione had brought Rose here. She was a bright young sprout, but she was also a scared little girl and he recognized that fear of her father's disapproval immediately. Despite their animosity over the years, Draco had to concede that Ron Weasley was not Lucius Malfoy. He doubted that Ron would hold it against her. The Sorting Hat was not to be denied, and Draco could tell within moments of meeting this girl that she belonged in Slytherin.

"I think once your father gets over the initial surprise, he'll see it's for the best, Rose," Draco said reassuringly. "It's where you belong."

"I hope so." Rose moved her queen and squealed happily as Draco's king fell. "Checkmate."

Draco jumped. "How?" He'd been so focused on reassuring her that she'd pulled the wool over his eyes! "I want a rematch," he burst out.

Rose giggled, and from the other side of the room, Astoria and Hermione were not bothering to hide their mirth. "I should have warned you, Draco. My Rose is a chess prodigy," Hermione said proudly.

Draco was still unable to believe that he'd been so blindsided by an eleven-year-old girl. "I think it's time for lunch," Astoria decided. "Come along, Rose, dear, tell me what your favorites are. Draco, stop moping and come help."

That tone brokered no argument. Draco stood up and held a hand out to Rose, who was still seated in the armchair, bubbly from her victory. "Doing what my wife says is in my best interest," he said in a low voice to her. She smiled unsurely, took his hand and let him help her out of her seat. "We can have our rematch next week."

Rose smiled. "I'd like that."

And so, a new, and unlikely, friendship had been forged.

Scorpius considered himself a patient man. Hufflepuffs were known for loyalty, but patience and hard work is how they got ahead. Rose Weasley had been stretching his patience thin for the last two weeks (read: their whole lives), however, and she didn't even know it. She was still avoiding him, still shutting herself in the Ministry, engrossed in what was apparently research.

He should have known better than to ask Al. Rose and Al hadn't been close like that in years. Al liked to meddle and it had only gotten worse with age; Scorpius had made a no-meddling rule with Al when it came to his own dates, but Rose hadn't been so lucky. She allowed Al to set her up on one date before she banned him from ever discussing her love life or lack thereof. Scorpius could see how a private person like Rose would be embarrassed and frustrated by the entire experience.

Al had now gotten it in his head that Rose had been single too long and that now she needed to date. Scorpius had thought it was why Rose had gone on all of those dead-end dates in the first place, just to shut him up. After she struck out the first three dates, she stopped telling him about her dates at all.

Al's nonstop complaining that Rose was working too much had annoyed her so much that she threatened to hex him the next time he brought it up. The man was obsessed. She was tired of hearing it. Scorpius couldn't even blame her. He was tired of hearing it.

She sure as hell wasn't going to tell Al about her night with Scorpius. If Al didn't murdered Scorpius for it, he would meddle, which would inevitably lead to Scorpius getting murdered by Rose for telling in the first place. The end result would be the same. He started picking up the afternoon shift at Leaky so he could study at night, keep his mind off of the elusive redhead, and avoid her meddlesome cousin during the day.

When Clara Avery walked in during the afternoon lull at Leaky and sat in his section, Scorpius almost didn't know how to act. Clara was George Weasley's research assistant, but more than that, she was Rose's best friend.

"What can I get you?" Scorpius asked, after they exchanged a surprisingly cordial greeting.

"Chicken pot pie, lemon meringue and a gillywater."

"Coming right up."

Clara grinned approvingly when it was brought out. "That was fast."

"I live to serve," Scorpius said dryly. He liked Clara. She was a little eccentric, with the rebellious pink streak in her curly blonde hair, but as far as he could see, she was a standup bird, if a tad devious.

"Come sit with me," she invited. From the knowing look she gave him, he was almost dead certain she knew, and he had to call upon every bit of his upbringing not to fidget under her steely gaze.

Scorpius hesitated, since he was still technically on the clock. Clara made an impatient sort of noise.

"No one else is here, Malfoy. Relax. Take a load off."

He sat, not really having a good reason to argue otherwise. "Tell me if someone comes in."

Clara grinned her acquiescence. "Tuck in," she said, sliding some of her pie toward him. "And tell me all about how you managed to convince Rose to get in bed with you."

Scorpius sat back, a slight pink tinge in his cheeks. "I didn't think she'd admit it," he said in a low voice, almost impressed. Up until now, based on Al's nonstop complaints, Scorpius had assumed Rose was just in flat-out denial of what had happened between them.

Clara adopted a superior tone of voice. "If she was going to admit it to anyone, it would have been to me. If only to tell me how much of a wanker Decker was."

"He really was a wanker," he murmured, if only to avoid the question more than anything.

"Of course he was. But sometimes a girl just needs a tune-up," Clara said, supremely unconcerned by this.

"Is that what she called it?" Scorpius asked distractedly. Rose had certainly behaved like a lover possessed. Starved. Scorpius's mind went to X-rated playback of their night together. There was no question that Rose had enjoyed herself. The question was did she want it to happen again?

Clara shrugged casually. "Of course not. That's what I called it. Sounds like you gave her that and more." She gave him a calculating stare. "She's not one of your usual birds."

"I know," Scorpius said quietly. "They were never serious."

"Rose doesn't see it that way. What did you see in them anyway?"

"I liked them," was Scorpius's simple answer.

"But it wasn't enough," Clara guessed shrewdly.

He shrugged self-consciously. When he had told Rose that she needed someone who intrigued her, it wasn't some rubbish he was spouting just to get her in bed with him; he had spoken from personal experience. There had always been something missing from his previous relationships. He'd genuinely liked them, felt for them, even had chemistry with some of them. But he became disinterested just as quickly as he fell for them.

He was an energetic person. He knew he could be a handful. But girls changed after he got into relationships with them. They stopped trying to intrigue him. He liked learning new things from the girls he dated, and when they turned passive or nonresponsive to his dissent or his curiosity, it was nothing short of disappointing.

The chemistry they shared before he entered relationships with them fizzled out quickly once the girls stopped putting in the effort. They didn't spend as much time exploring together, didn't go on new adventures together, didn't learn new things together. Sometimes he played devil's advocate just to test them. Every once in a while, they'd get into a huge blowout, but for the most part, they stopped responding. They let him win debates, let him be right when he knew he was wrong.

Rose never let him win anything on principle. Sometimes she argued just for the sake of disagreeing. He learned so much from her just by being contrary. Breakfast was his time with Rose, where he got to fire her up, learn something new, and make her smile. It wasn't until he'd graduated Hogwarts and no longer was having his daily breakfast battle that he realized what was missing was the consistency. His mind needed exercise as much as his body to stay razor sharp.

"We explored what we had until it wasn't new anymore," Scorpius said evasively. He was not the type to malign his exes, either publicly or privately. "We all parted amicably."

Clara wrinkled her nose at the word amicably. "I wonder what that would be like." She'd never had an amicable breakup in her life. All of hers had been loud, public, and hostile, involving everything from Howlers to curses (mailed and in person).

Scorpius chuckled, having been party to a few of them. "Some of them come in here with their husbands every now and again. Leave very nice tips."

"You're such a Hufflepuff," Clara teased, shaking her head. "You know she's scared."

"I won't hurt her," he said earnestly.

"Rose doesn't know that and you can't promise that. Why is she any different?"

"You know why." Scorpius wasn't going to say it. He was blushing. He wondered how he had gotten himself into this situation. Giving Clara Avery ammunition to grill him for sleeping with her best friend had definitely not been on his agenda for today.

Clara pushed regardless, "Is it the chase? The challenge?"

"I don't need to sleep with Rose to get that from her," Scorpius defended, despite himself.

"That's true, I suppose," she mused thoughtfully, sitting back. "You're the only one who's ever been able to keep up with her."

It was as good as an approval from her. Scorpius asked, "So, what should I do then?"

Clara raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you want to do?"

Rose was at the Burrow again. Three times in one week, and Al finally had had enough. "What is going on with you?" he demanded.

Rose was annotating a copy of her mother's memoir about the war, looking for instances of possible uses of love magic. It was a long book, filled with stories with a lot of little nuances, and Rose was going over it with a fine-toothed comb. "Be more specific, Al," she said irritably. She didn't appreciate being interrupted.

"Look at you! You're at the Burrow all the time, you don't go home! When's the last time you slept?"

Though she had been working a lot more and sleeping a lot less, Rose scoffed anyway. "I'm fine, Al. I've been busy with my research. And no, before you ask, I can't tell you what it is."

Al pushed, "Come off it, Rose, you've even got Scorpius worried. Not to mention the rest of the family thinks you've gone 'round the bend."

Rose felt a flutter in her stomach the mention at Scorpius's name. "If the rest of the family wants to say something about it to me, they can," she said coolly. "And I'll thank you not to talk about me to Scorpius."

Al gave her a strange look. "Did you two have a fight?"

"No, I just don't want you discussing whether or not I've lost my mind with Scorpius, when I've told you, I'm doing research," she snapped. "For once in your life, stay out of it, Al."

Al huffed. "Fine. Sorry for caring." He stormed off.

Rose massaged the bridge of her nose, annoyed. Al would come around. He was all hot air; he'd get angry and then get over it. Her concentration was totally shot now and she threw her quill on the ground, frustrated.

A plate of chocolate gateau was placed down in front of her as her father pressed a kiss to her hair and took a seat next to her. She looked up at him. "What's this for?"

Ron shrugged. "You looked like you needed cake. Violent quill-tossing indicates the need for cake."

"What if I had thrown the book?"

"I'd have brought you an entire meal." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't make the rules, I just carry them out."

Rose smiled despite herself and took a bite. "So good," she said with her mouth full.

"You know, now I'm starting to see why your mother used to scold me at meals for talking with my mouth full," Ron commented.

Rose, at the prime of her maturity, stuck her tongue out, still with cake in her mouth.

Ron chuckled. "Fancy a game?"

She nodded. "Might as well. I'm not getting anything more out of that book today," she said ruefully as he set up the board.

Chess was the great equalizer in the Weasley household. While they were growing up, Ron Weasley had taught both his children to play chess. Hugo learned the rules, but had no interest in practicing. Hermione was now semi-decent at it, but she still couldn't beat Ron, who was still the best strategist in the Auror office; she used his skill for running campaigns of social causes she championed.

Rose, on the other hand, had taken to it like a fish to water and played with Ron every chance she got, striving to be as good as her dad. Sometimes she cheated, and sometimes she didn't, but she was the only one who played against Ron regularly, so he let her get away with it. It was their game.

When Rose had been Sorted into Slytherin, she'd spent four months silently agonizing about how to face her dad over the Christmas holidays, after ten years of hearing him go on about how Gryffindor was the best House out of the four. She played chess with every single person in her House. They were her new family at Hogwarts, after all. They needed to learn her game. The ones who didn't know, she taught. When she came home, Ron had kissed her cheek and sat her across a chessboard. She'd royally trounced him that day (without cheating), and after that, Ron had accepted that his baby girl was a Slytherin.

"Have you made any progress on whatever it was you were researching?" Ron asked, as he made the first move. Rose always liked to play black.

Rose shrugged. "I'm still gathering data." She moved a pawn. "I was hoping Mum's book could give me some insights."

"On what?" Ron made his next move.

Rose scrutinized the board, before deciding on which piece to move. "How love played into the decisions all of you made during the war."

Ron had learned by now that Rose wasn't going to tell him anything she didn't want him to know. Even if he wanted to know what the root of her fixation for love and war was, he knew better than to ask. "I'd like to think that it was the root of all the major decisions we made…good and bad. We did the wrong things for the right reasons and the right things for the wrong reasons."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," she quoted. "Mum kissed you before the Battle of Hogwarts. How did she know that was the right time?"

Ron chuckled, having told this story a million times before. "I wanted to warn the house elves to get the bloody hell out. For me, it wasn't a big thing, because I just didn't want them to get killed needlessly, but since I'd spent the better part of two years making fun of her for wanting to free them…I think she appreciated that I had been listening."

"Acts of service," Rose murmured, confirming her idea. "What about you?" she asked, mumbling for her bishop to take out one of her dad's rooks.

Ron swore a little under his breath as the bishop bashed his rook to pieces. "Me?"

"When did you know it was Mum?"

"I won't lie and say I always knew," Ron said quietly, as his knight took her bishop. "I was an idiot. Still am sometimes. She'd always been there…I'd gotten used to having her there to encourage me, check my homework, correct me. I took it for granted for a very long time. I just needed her to tell me I was enough. And she did, when she realized that's what I needed to hear. But I think it might have been in sixth year after I got poisoned. We'd been fighting all year and then when I got poisoned…All I wanted was her to be there to tell me it would be okay. Even if I had a girlfriend at the time. I just wanted her. Even if I knew she'd yell at me."

Words of affirmation, Rose thought, mentally taking note.

"I wish all men thought like you," Rose said bitterly. Her pawn moved to take one of his.

"To be fair, it took me seven years to figure that out, Rosie."

She shrugged though, unwilling to concede that point. Her parents' marriage was what she ultimately wanted. No matter how much they argued, Ron was Hermione's best friend at the end of the day. She wanted that.

Her mind wandered to Scorpius again. It had been doing that a lot lately, when her mind was in a lull. She missed him, plain and simple. They used to argue like her parents every morning at breakfast, which she liked because he gave her another perspective to tackle problems from. Scorpius was a great sounding board for her to bounce ideas off of when she was blocked. Always a thoughtful person, he tended to give her solutions that were both logical and practical.

He was a great listener. When they had had their Career Advice meetings, he was the first person she told when she decided to apply to the Department of Mysteries. By that point, she trusted him to tell her if she was stupid for even bothering to apply. It was a competitive program, not to mention an unconventional career choice. Kind but honest, he was the one to encourage her to go for it. He'd even helped her with her application.

He was the first person she told when she found out her application had been accepted by the Department of Mysteries. He didn't know, but for her that was major. That was the moment when she knew he was special. She didn't tell her parents or Clara until two weeks after she got into the program that she'd even applied.

And then she went and slept with him, and ruined it. Her problems were self-inflicted. She did this to herself.

Author's Note: R&R and make my day.