Rose awoke with a start. Scorpius! Where was he? It took a moment to realise she wasn't under enchantment in a castle tower; she was staring at moonstone-blue hospital walls.
"How are you feeling, love?" Mum rose from a chair to perch on the side of the bed. The folds of her wizard robes looked unwrinkled and crisply pleated, although wavy strands of hair escaped from what remained of a sleek, businesslike updo. It was easy to imagine her rushing out of a meeting, determined to calm her husband and find their daughter.
Rose reached for her hand. "Better," she said. "I—I just had a strange dream."
Mum kissed her cheek. "Lily made a commotion insisting she had to see you. It's only natural your brain would create a dream to make sense of the random stimuli."
Rose didn't know if she believed that theory, but it was better than Mum inviting her to share the dream so they could interpret it. She asked, "Have you heard from Scorpius? Is he still at the Ministry? What about Marc—the boy who was burnt? Did the Healers save him?" She pushed aside the covers. "How long have I been sleeping? I have to—"
"—stay in this bed, young lady."
"But—"
"I understand you want to know," Mum said firmly, "but you've only rested a few hours. I'll send my Patronus. Your father's at the Ministry with Uncle Harry, he can tell us what's happening." She gave Rose's fingers a reassuring squeeze. "After that, I'll ask a mediwitch to tell Healer Wells you're awake and check on Marc Flint's condition. Agreed?"
Rose nodded. If she argued, she'd come across as a tetchy child insisting, "Me do, Mummy" instead of the adult she was—and wanted to be treated as.
Seconds later, a silvery otter romped around the bed before scampering through the wall. "There. We'll have an answer soon." Mum patted Rose's hand. "In the meantime, I'll pop round the mediwitches' station."
Rose leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes, trying to envision a happy memory and cast her own Patronus.
Flames jetted upward in a wave of blue fire.
"Merlin!" Rose jack-knifed upright.
The door opened. "Everything okay, miss?" A sandy-haired young wizard—an Auror by the badge on his robes—peered into the room.
Rose recovered from the surprise of being under guard and said, "Thank you. I'm fine."
"Oh. Good. Well, if you need anything, just call. I'm Rob. Rob Davies." He started to close the door and then popped his head back into the room. "Your cousin," he said. "She seems like a really nice person."
"Yes, she is."
He stepped into the doorway. "I suppose she has a boyfriend."
"Not currently."
If Rob got the implication that Lily was never short on admirers, it didn't faze him. He smiled so boyishly Rose wondered how long he'd actually been an Auror. Third year, when Ravenclaw won the Quidditch Cup, there had been a Davies on the team.
"Brilliant," he said. "Well, I'll be outside."
He left, and Rose heard the sound of whistling. To pass the time, she tried to make out the song and finally decided it was the Cannons running out tune. Seconds after it ended, her mum returned.
"Marc Flint is expected to make a full recovery. Isn't that good news?"
"Yes." Something about the cheery tone made Rose wary there was bad news, too. She waited until her mum resumed her seat and asked, "What about Scorpius? Is he still at the Ministry?" With Dad and Uncle Harry interrogating . . . accusing . . . .
"He left after giving his statement," Mum said softly, the way she always did when revealing upsetting truth.
Mummies and Daddies carry on the work of Father Christmas . . . Crookshanks lived a long, happy life . . . Scorpius left the Ministry and didn't come to see you . . . .
"He's waiting for me to go home," Rose said. Scorpius was Slytherin: clever to realise only family would be allowed to visit and cunning to plan a way to see her that wouldn't end up on the front page of the Intruder.
"Or he's gone to Wiltshire. Some things need to be told in person, especially when the form of one's Patronus might startle." Mum smiled a little. "Your father thought Scorpius' messenger was a ferret, but I recognise a mongoose when I see one."
Rose shoved back the covers. "His parents know—they've always known."
Mum handed her a stack of clothing. "Your jeans and t-shirt were stained so I transfigured them. If you want privacy, the loo's to your right. Healer Wells will be here soon."
Rose set the clothes on the bed and undid the ties of the hospital gown. Let the Healer see her knickers. "If he isn't, I'm leaving." She dressed in the black top and white shorts, keeping her back to the room's entrance in case the Healer or Rob the Auror walked through the door. She wasn't that bold.
Healer Wells turned out to be a grandmotherly witch who asked Rose about her experience, how she felt, and invited her to make a private appointment if lingering symptoms of shock—anger, fixation on what happened, or withdrawal from relationships and activities—made it hard to cope with day-to-day life.
Rose said she would although the only thing she was fixated on was leaving St. Mungo's, and the anger she felt was frustration that she wasn't with Scorpius.
When the Healer left after signing discharge papers, family members poured into the room. Granny Weasley enveloped Rose in a vanilla-scented hug. "I thought I'd faint when your clock hand pointed to mortal peril. That boy's—"
"Not responsible for the actions of others, dear heart," Granddad said. He kissed Rose's brow. "How are you, Rosie?"
"Much better."
Her assurance acted like a dam release; her family surged forward. Albus reached out with long arms to snag the first hug while Hugo shouldered his way past Fred and Louis and gruffly told her he was glad she was okay. Rose was patted on the back by uncles; embraced and kissed on the cheek by aunts and cousins. Aunt Fleur air kissed both sides of Rose's face.
Deluged by the outpour of love and concern, she didn't notice that Lily hung back until, when she bent to hug Lucy, Rose heard Hugo say, "I was taking the piss when I said you had to be last in line because you saw her first. I never thought you'd actually wait!"
Rose glanced over her shoulder. Lily, misleadingly demure in a white eyelet sundress, met her eyes and grinned so widely she might have well shouted, "I've got a secret to tell you!"
Lucy tugged on Rose's arm, her little face solemn. "Sigyn and Loki were afraid the babies would lose their godparents."
Was her cousin speaking for the toads or herself? "I hope you told them we'd be fine."
"I did. I said if bad people tried to hurt you and Scorpius, you'd make them sorry." Lucy bit her lip. "And you did, didn't you?"
Burnt flesh, raw and oozing . . . .
"Yes." Rose couldn't guess what Lucy had heard—or how gory the details. "I'm sorry it happened," she said, "and I'm glad he'll be all right."
"Me too." Lucy gave her another squeezing hug.
A throat cleared pointedly. It was Lily.
"C'mon, Luce, you pygmy python, let someone else have a turn to glom," she said.
Behind Lucy, Dominique huffed. "I was next!"
Dominique pouted almost as effectively as Aunt Fleur, but Lily was immune. "Je m'excuse," she said cheekily as she stretched up to hug Rose. She whispered, "He was here—and he'll be waiting."
Rose's heart leapt. Her dream wasn't from random stimuli. Scorpius had been there! That's why Lily made a commotion to see her. "I don't know how to thank you."
"I have something in mind," Lily said, "but I'll have to tell you about it later. Dom's glaring daggers, ready to hex."
"All right." Rose was so happy she would've agreed to almost anything.
The next minutes passed in a blur. She talked to Dominique and Louis—or rather, they talked while she tried to listen and make appropriate responses while keeping an eye on the door.
When her dad walked in, Rose made a beeline for him. "Can I leave now?"
He nodded. "Everything's set. We'll use the Healers' private garden to Apparate." He hugged her as if she was fragile and kissed the top of her head. "I'll get you home, Rosie."
Her entire family escorted her through the corridors and down the stairs. Auror Davies and Lily trailing in their wake, chatting. Staff and patients stopped to watch their group pass. Rose averted her eyes from curious stares.
Her mum said, "It'll never stop being odd the way strangers are interested in your private life, but you'll get used to it." She looked at her husband, striding ahead, wand held ready. "We did."
A smile tugged at the corners of Rose's mouth. When she was little, her dad had barked, "No pictures!" at people so many times in restaurants, parks, and shops that she'd yelled, "No pitchers!" to family while celebrating her third birthday at Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour. She was still razzed about that from time to time.
On the ground level, they took a Staff Only corridor to the Healers' garden, an extravagant title for a small courtyard with tables and chairs and a few potted plants. After a round of goodbyes, Rose walked over to her dad and linked her arm with his. "Apparate with me?"
He winked. "Like old times. We'll beat them to the house and Hugo and your mum will have to do the washing up after dinner."
At Thornhill Square, Rose looked everywhere for Scorpius—the pavement; her neighbours' front gardens; across the street. Where was he? Didn't he see them? The sympathy on her family's faces tightened the knots in her stomach.
Dad patted her on the arm. "Aw, Rosie, don't fret. He'll turn up."
"Like a bad Knut," Hugo said. "No offence. It's just a saying."
Mum slipped an arm around Rose's waist. "Standing around indefinitely in July heat doesn't strike me as a Slytherin thing to do. Let's go inside and see if there's an owl."
Rose fought the urge to dig in her heels, to yell Scorpius' name and use a Sonorous Charm to make it carry. He'd told Lily he would wait for her. He had to be nearby.
She reluctantly followed her mum into the house and up the stairs to her parents' bedroom on the first floor. Pigwidgeon, old but sprightly in his octagon-shaped cage before the window, turned his head from the garden view and whistled a greeting as they approached. Even before her dad rolled the large cage to one side of the window, Rose saw that there was no messenger owl waiting on the outside ledge. She wasn't disappointed. It confirmed that Scorpius planned to see her; she just didn't understand why he waited.
"He probably hasn't had time to send an owl," Mum said.
Her dad's brow furrowed in thought. "Lucius Malfoy was still negotiating a deal when I left. He could have called Scorpius back to the Ministry."
"How?" Hugo asked from his position near the doorway. "You've said Death Eaters couldn't cast Patronus Charms."
"That was a long time ago," Dad said slowly, as if it pained him to admit, "people can change."
"Not Lucius Malfoy. I've heard you and Uncle Harry talk. The Knights of Walpurgis pretend to be a social club, but they're really waiting for a new Dark Lord to follow." Hugo gazed at Rose, his jaw set. "I don't want you to end up one of their victims. Scorpius is decent, but his grandfather sure as hell isn't."
"I'm not saying Lucius is a good person," she replied. "I'm saying he sent us to the island hoping to break us up, not to put us in danger. He would never risk losing Scorpius."
"You hope."
She refused to argue anymore. Rose looked at her parents. "I'm still tired from that potion. I think I'll rest until Scorpius arrives."
"I'll turn down the covers," Mum said.
Rose was a little old to be tucked in, but if it made her mum happy . . . . "All right."
Hugo smirked. "Want a mint on your pillow?"
"If she does, I'll bring it to her," Dad said. "You have washing up from breakfast to do."
Hugo turned puppy dog eyes on Mum. "Will you help me?"
"In a few minutes."
"I'll supervise until then," Dad said.
Rose smiled at the face Hugo made. As the youngest boy in his family, Dad had washed mountains of dishes without the aid of magic and enjoyed telling stories about his labour while he oversaw their work. Every year, the description of the layers of burnt food he'd scrubbed off pots and pans grew thicker and smellier.
Once she and Mum reached the second floor, Rose said, "I really am tired. You don't have to sit with me or anything."
"I'll only stay a moment."
In her room, she watched her Mum close the draperies to darken the room and then turn down covers with motherly precision. Rose hugged her in thanks. "I love you, Mum."
"I love you, precious."
The endearment—seldom heard after Hugo discovered The Lord of the Rings—misted Rose's eyes, blurring her view of the little-girl wallpaper with its pink climbing roses. She blinked away the moisture and saw something that snatched her breath away.
Instead of thorns, the vines sprouted delicate pale green flowers.
A flush bloomed along Rose's cheekbones. Scorpius was there! Lily let him in to wait in her room. He'd seen her private things: her books; her childhood toys; her embarrassing princess canopy bed with its mound of frilly pillows and bed curtains of fine white netting.
"You shivered. I told Ronald he set the cooling charms on the house too low. I'll make a pot of tea."
Rose hastily slid into bed and pulled up the covers. "No, Mum, don't go to the trouble. I'm not thirsty. All I need is some time alone." With Scorpius. Rose closed her eyes. Oh Merlin, don't think about it, don't think about it, if I blush she'll think I'm feverish and never leave!
"Very well, I'll wake you when Scorpius arrives, and if—for whatever reason—you want me to send a Patronus, I will."
"Thanks, Mum. Would you draw the bed curtains?"
"Of course."
Fabric scraped against wrought iron.
"Sweet dreams," Mum said.
Rose's pounding heartbeat almost drowned out the click of the door. She tried to control her breathing, to pretend she was sleeping, but her pulse raced so wildly it was all she could do not to hyperventilate.
She heard the faint rasp of fabric. Every nerve ending in her body tightened like a bowstring.
When lips parted hers in a kiss, Rose opened her eyes.
A/N: I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream . . . . The song from Disney's Sleeping Beauty has been in my head this chapter. It might seem Scrooge-ish to end at such a moment, but it felt right, and I'll just have to hope readers enjoy it enough to get me put back on the Nice list. ;)
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