Chapter 8

Last June, part 2

James

James had always hated hospitals, Hogwarts's hospital wing included. They reeked of antiseptic magic, revolting healing potions, and musty bed linen. And if the smell wasn't enough to do you in, the eerie silence definitely would. Any conversation seemed whispered and hushed, the tiniest of noises, even if it was only the wind slightly ruffling the stiff lime green curtains, appeared out of place in the kingdom of the hurt, the sick, and the dying.

Rose had only just slipped through the mashes of the net that was the latter category. All thanks to James's father, accompanied by his unit of trained Aurors, rushing down the stairs of the boathouse only moments after James's curse had hit the woman full in the chest. The Aurors had swiftly taken control of the situation from there, cutting down Malfoy, diving after Rose, reviving Al, and trusting the bunch of them into the healing hands of the absolutely ancient Madame Pomfrey.

"Dad," James' voice broke through the ward's silence, echoing against the ghastly stone walls.

"How did you know we needed you? How did you know where to find us?"

His father looked up from his position in between Rose's and Al's bed. Both of them were as pale as their spotless white hospital sheets, both of them in a deep, Sleeping Draught-induced, slumber. The difference being, however, that Albus would be free to leave and go about his merry way tomorrow morning. Same went for Malfoy, who was in the bed next to his.

"We've been trying to track down that woman for years," Harry Potter sighed, fatigue clear in his voice.

"Who is she? And why was she after Rose?"

Images of Rose flying backwards into the waters of the Black Lake like a ragged doll flashed through James's mind again, and anger flared up inside of him. Not only at the psycho bitch going after his cousin and her sad excuse of a date, but also at himself. For not reacting faster, for letting Al, his younger brother for fuck's sake, take the heat.

"Pansy Parkinson", his father answered.

James nodded. That was the name his brother and he had seen on the Maurauder's Map earlier.

"And I don't think she was after Rose," he continued. "She was in all probability here for Scorpius Malfoy."

"Why? What could she possibly want with Malfoy? She said Rose wasn't worthy of him, but what's it to her?"

"Parkinson used to be involved with Scorpius's father, Draco Malfoy. Up until the end of the Second Wizarding War, that is."

Harry took off his glasses tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose before he continued.

"When most Slytherins more or less abandoned their blood purity ideals, Malfoy included, Parkinson only radicalized. Of course, it didn't help that she got hit by a couple of rogue curses and a stray crystal ball during the Battle of Hogwarts. So here we are, a good two decades later, and a criminally insane witch at our hands."

James, getting the feeling his father was leaving something out, questioned further.

"Who's Pandora, then?"

At that, Harry's head shot up, weariness instantly turning into vigilance. Before he had a chance to answer his son however, the hospital wings' doors flew open. James's mother ran inside, closely followed by his aunt and uncle, and Headmistress McGonagall.

"Listen James," Harry managed to say under his breath, before the new-comers made their hurried way down.

"Not a word of this to anyone. I will personally see to it that Al, Rose and Scorpius know precisely what we've just discussed. But as far as the rest of the school's concerned, Rose accidentally fell in the lake, and is in the hospital wing being treated for severe hypothermia. What really happened tonight is highly classified information, for senior Auror eyes and ears only. Understood?"

James nodded reluctantly, more or less understanding the gravity of tonight's events, but not quite satisfied with his father's vague answers.

"And for your safety and hers, forget about Pandora, son. Please."

Only moments later, James found himself being smothered by an embrace even grandmother Molly's couldn't rival. Leaning into his mother's arms made him realize how tired he, too, in fact was. Of course Ginny noticed as well, and after another peck on his cheek, she sent him off to his dorm. He had half a heart to object, but was secretly grateful. After all, the hands of the hospital clock pointed out it was well past 4 in the morning.

So after briefly greeting Rose's parents, he made his way out the ward's heavy doors, and up the marble staircase. His eyes were drooping so much, he nearly missed the hooded figure waiting for him on the first floor's landing.

"Will she be alright?"

James jumped at the voice.

"What? Who's there?"

The figure stepped forward a little, out of the shadows, and pushed back the hood of its black sweater, revealing violet eyes and blonde hair with pink ends.

James recognized her immediately, though he doubted he'd ever exchanged one word with the girl.

Alexa Winters, Hogwarts's resident Metamorphmagus and bad girl.

"Will Rose be alright?" Winters repeated.

"Hypothermia, fell into the Black Lake" James said automatically, obeying his father's orders.

"Don't lie," she spat.

"When a bunch of Aurors carries you into the hospital wing at 1 in the morning, shit's worse than falling victim to a common cold."

"Don't tell me- " James started.

"But that's entirely besides the question," Winters interrupted him effortlessly, slightly waving her hand.

"I asked whether she was going to be alright, and that's all I need to know from you, Potter."

James, too tired to argue, conceded.

"Yeah, she'll be alright."

The girl nodded slowly, before pulling on her hood again. She then turned around and walked away, the dark corridor quickly swallowing her.

"She'll be alright, she'll be alright." James repeated, trying to believe it himself.

"He'll be alright, we'll be alright."

Rose

"Weasley!" Alexa Winters tried again, urgently.

To no avail, as Rose's screams continued to penetrate the hospital wing, resonating a terrifying mixture of agony and fear.

"Bloody snap out of it, Rose!"

She only seemed to convulse more violently, limbs tangled up in her bedsheets, mind stuck in her world of nightmares.

Seeing no other option, Alexa turned to a slightly more brutal solution, and bitch-slapped her House-mate clean across her pale, in anguish-contorted, face. At that, Rose awoke from her rotten slumber with a jolt, gasping for air as the screaming finally ceased.

Propping herself up against the pristinely white pillows, still a little out of breath, she nodded at Winters.

"This is shit," Alexa said in response.

It wasn't the first time this week that Alexa had had to pull Rose out of her nightmarish, flooded with blood-red waters, dream-world, but that didn't make it any less unpleasant.

"Shit it is indeed," Rose nodded in agreement.

After that, the girls remained silent for a while, which Rose didn't mind at all. Alexa Winters knew when there was nothing to be said, and then wisely shut her plum lipstick-coloured mouth accordingly. Unlike every other visitor Rose 'd had whilst being stuck in the hospital wing.

Al, Scorpius, Dom, the other Ravenclaw girls, her parents. They had all felt the excruciatingly annoying urge to talk about what happened, to ask whether she was alright, to inform her about the weather, to fill every minute threatening to turn into silence with meaningless chit-chatting.

No, Rose preferred Alexa's company by a long shot. The girl would merely sit at her side, letting her stare at nothing in particular. When the by now far too familiar all-consuming cold seized her, and Rose's hands would tremble too hard to ignore, Alexa would silently grip the wrist closest to her and hold it until Rose would regain control. Winters helped, which was far more than could be said for her family and the like.

Weirdly enough however, the girls had never been close before The Boathouse Incident, as James had dubbed last week's events. This had crossed Rose's mind, and she really had no idea why Winters gave Rose her time of the day, but she had decided not to care. Caring meant thinking, meant hurting, meant losing control, which Rose 'd rather not, especially over company that didn't, for a change, make her blood boil.

Speaking of which.

The heavy wooden hospital doors creaked open, and in shuffled Scorpius Malfoy.

Alexa took this as her cue to leave, squeezing Rose's hand one last time before briefly nodding at Scorpius and walking out the hospital wing.

"Hello", Scorpius said awkwardly, taking Winters's place.

Why was everything he said or did accompanied by an awful dose of awkwardness these days? He used to be the walking embodiment of confidence, a smug grin permanently plastered on his aristocratic face. Rose could never decide whether to consider this incredibly obnoxious or incredibly attractive.

"How are you?" he continued, just as uneasily.

Rose didn't answer. She didn't see what use it'd be. She just watched him as he tried to chase away the silence with a stream of meaningless chatter. It physically hurt her that he had to resort to subjects such as the weather or professor Binns's inability to teach. As if they were nothing more than strangers.

"Scorpius", she finally interrupted him.

His grey eyes flickered and curiously met hers.

"I think you should leave".

Speaking those words felt like reopening her Sectumsempra-inflicted wounds, which had healed rather quickly, to Madame Pomfrey's astonishment.

"Of course, you must be tired. I'll come back tomorrow after …"

"You don't understand," she interrupted him once more.

"I want you to leave and not come back."

She was surprised at how steady and calm her voice sounded, compared to the storm of emotions raging through her head, through her heart.

Realization spread across Scorpius's fine features.

"Is this… Are you…," he stuttered.

"We're done", she finished for him, her tone harsh and decisive.

Then softer. "We lived in a dream, Scor. Our moments together, stolen."

"No," he said. "No, it was real. It is real! We're real, Rose."

"This is real", Rose suddenly shouted, violently tearing open her pyjama top.

Buttons flew everywhere, the striped fabric now lying at Rose's sides revealing her bare chest. She wasn't wearing a bra, but she didn't care. Scorpius wouldn't be looking at her breasts. No, the thick blood-red scar tissue spread haphazardly across her entire torso, a life-long reminder of how she would never be good enough, would draw his full attention. And it did. She watched as horror and disgust at the sight of her contorted his beautiful face.

"Rose…"

"Just go, please", she whispered while covering herself again with her bedsheets, a single tear rolling down her face.

He did as she asked.