Can't believe I'm updating so soon! I'm just so excited about this story again, I didn't want to wait! The time frames are getting a bit jumbled now that we're nearing the end, so just for reference, this picks up from where we left off in Chapter 11.
A/N: JKR owns, I do not.
June 2nd, 2029
Present Day
Rose entered her grandparents' home, feeling as if she were about to vomit. All of the nerve she'd built up after the conversation with her mother had flown out the door as soon as Hermione had left. Rose would have happily crawled back under her covers and stayed there for another thirty years or so, had it not been for one Albus Potter.
So here she was, dressed in the dress robes her mother had picked out for her, wearing those same heels she'd worn on James' birthday – for strength, she told herself, not because a certain blonde had said she looked nice in them.
Her engagement party was in full swing by the time she arrived.
A loud cheer went up as she fell out of the fireplace in into the sitting room, Al trailing behind her. She scanned the area quickly, overwhelmed at the volume of people in one small- though magically enhanced- room.
"There's our ickle brideykins!" her cousin Fred called. Rose flipped him the bird, not caring who saw.
"Hi, oh hello, how are you? Hi…" Rose made her way through masses of relatives with varying shades of red hair, all wanting to wish her well.
She couldn't see the one person she sought, however.
"Does anyone know where Simon is?" she asked, looking around at the crowded living room.
"Waheyyy!" Fred said, throwing his hands up and sloshing his drink all over his sister, who sat next to him, in the process.
"Frederick!" Roxy called, punching her older brother, hard, on his arm.
Rose rolled her eyes and left the room in search of more helpful relatives.
"Have you seen Simon?" she asked her nan, who was putting the finishing touches on a glorious looking roast dinner in the kitchen. Rose tried to ignore the nauseating feeling of guilt that threatened to overcome her when she saw how much effort her family had put into this party. A banner hung from above the door, spelling out what Rose thought should say Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Archibald! but the shimmering letters on the banner were furling in on themselves, and it now read Con-tulatio- Mr. and Mr- -bald! There was a large and slightly lopsided cake entirely covered with red and pink roses sitting on the dining table. It was adorned with a bride-and-groom cake topper that'd been used for Weasley weddings as long as Rose could remember, and had arguably seen better days. In the heat of the kitchen, the plastic bride's smile looked as if it were melting off her face. Rose found it worryingly apt.
"Oh Rosie, dear, don't you look lovely," her grandmother said, putting her hands on either side of Rose's face and beaming up at her. "You're going to make the most beautiful bride."
"Thanks, nan…" Rose said, not quite meeting her eyes, "But do you know where Simon-?"
"Hello, darling," an arm circled around her from behind, and Rose turned to find herself face to face with her fiancé for the first time in a week. "I missed you," he said congenially.
Her nan gave a little titter, and hurriedly exited the room.
Merlin, he was good-looking, Rose thought a bit sadly. Good looking, and respectful, and kind hearted. And safe.
And wrong, her heart told her.
"Simon," she breathed, biting her lip nervously. "Can we – let's talk?"
He gazed down at her for a long while, taking in what Rose knew must be guilt written all over her face. He nodded, once, and she bit her lip, trying to find the words to say. After a long pause, Simon seemed to take pity on her. Wordlessly, he led her outside. They walked to the edge of the yard, coming to rest under the tree she'd kissed Scorpius under just a week ago. Had it been only just last Saturday? It felt like an eternity to Rose.
They sat under the tree, staring at the water, just as she'd done with Scorpius. Yet the differences were marked. With Scorpius, there had been fire and electricity between them. There had been unspoken words and history – too much history.
With Simon, there was comfort, yes. But that was it.
Rose wondered how to put into words what she felt.
"You don't want to go through with the wedding."
She looked up, shocked. Had he said that, or had she?
Simon was looking down at her with a gentle smile, though wry and slightly twisted. Rose's immediate reaction was to placate, to assure him that she did still want to marry him, that she loved him. He was so good, and he had truly loved her in all the ways she'd once needed to be loved. But then she remembered her mother's words.
Sometimes, hurting somebody now, no matter how bad it may be, can save more heartache in the long run.
Rose was tired of pretending, tired of ignoring her feelings. She was tired of being pleasant, nice, rational Rose.
"I don't want to go through with the wedding." She said, hardly daring to believe she'd spoken the words aloud.
Simon sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair, angrily, but then seemed to control himself. Even now, he was polite, measured, cool, calculated.
"Okay." He said simply.
"Look, Simon, I'm sorr-"
"It's fine, Rose. Really." He said, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. "To be honest, I can't say I'm all that shocked, after these last few months. I'm just –"
He paused, taking a ragged, deep breath. Rose watched as several emotions flickered across his face - hurt, frustration, anger. All at once, he grabbed her shoulders, and pressed his lips to hers. Rose stood stock still as he worked his feelings into the kiss, and felt one tear slip down her cheek when he backed away, looking down at the floor. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper.
"if it's all right with you, I'm going to take off." They stood, awkwardly avoiding the others' gaze. Before he left, however, he touched her cheek, once. He looked at her, his kind blue eyes uncharacteristically sad.
"Thank you," she said, meaning it. She looked at the man who'd brought her out of the most emotionally damaging part of her life, the man who had made her feel safe again – whole again- and finally let go.
It had taken until now for her to realize it, but Rose was finally ready to feel safe and whole all on her own.
Rose made her way back into the house after Simon left, trying to work out the best way of telling her family that the wedding was off.
She found the kitchen empty, save for a blonde girl who looked around Lily's age. Just as Rose was about to ask who she was, the girl looked up at her with her big, blue eyes.
"So," she said, sitting down at the dining table, braiding her long hair casually over one shoulder as she glanced at Rose. "You don't want to marry my brother."
There was a beat.
"Annette…" Rose started, turning to the younger girl. Simon must have found her before he'd left. Rose wondered, in that case, why his sister was still here.
"Annie." She corrected with a grimace.
"Annie," Rose began again, her hands twisting in her lap, "It's much more complicated than that."
"Look, I get it," Annie said with a wry smile, facing Rose, "He's a perfect gentleman, and I know he's good-looking and all, but he's dead boring." She twisted the end of her braid thoughtfully around her index finger. "He needs a compliant wife, one whose great idea of an adventure includes raising two-point-five kids and attending Ministry balls." She looked over at Rose, who was shell-shocked into silence. "You don't seem like the kind of wife to sit idle, Rose Weasley."
Rose was about to retort that Annie didn't know her at all, when she realized the younger girl was right. Mrs. Archibald must have been passing along her scathing reviews of Rose's domestication, or lack thereof – Fiona, Rose corrected herself, but then oh, the hell with that.
"There's nothing wrong with kids, or balls." Rose finally said when she'd found her voice.
"No, there's not," Annie smiled, a sly grin that allowed Rose to see why she was reputed to be the wayward younger sibling. "If that's what you're into."
Rose was silent again.
"He'll get over it, by the way," the younger girl said, undoing the plait she had just made. "He was in love with another witch before he met you – the same thing, placing her on a pedestal, making out the relationship to be something it's not – but he moved on, obviously. He'll be fine again."
Rose was about to remark that perhaps Annie was being a bit rude, when the younger girl turned to Rose, her eyes wide. "I don't mean to diminish your relationship, sorry" she said, sounding suddenly genuine, "Just trying to help."
She left, grabbing a bottle of firewhisky from the table as she went, and taking a large swig.
Rose wondered how this incredibly blunt, mischievous, annoyingly insightful girl was related to Simon at all. Annette certainly hadn't been what Rose was expecting.
She pressed the palm of her hand to her aching forehead, hard, and let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Right," she said, determinedly, and left to go and face her family.
It was creeping into the early hours of the next morning by the time Rose arrived back at her flat with Albus. When they flooed in, she sunk deep into the sofa, while she let Al hurry around and make a strong pot of tea and gather what looked to be all of the chocolate in the house.
When he joined her on the sofa, she promptly ripped into the pile of chocolate frogs he'd assembled, shoving one in her mouth and quickly checking the card – a habit from her childhood she'd never quite broken.
"I've got Dumbledore again," she sighed frustratedly, though she'd stopped collecting years ago.
The wizened old former Headmaster of Hogwarts winked up at her from behind his half-moon glasses, and Rose felt her eyes welling up with tears inexplicably. She shoved another chocolate frog in her mouth, and felt the first tear drop down her cheek.
Suddenly, she was sobbing.
Albus wordlessly wrapped her in his arms, saying nothing, but petting the top of her head lovingly.
They stayed like that for hours, wrapped in a comforting, familial embrace. Then, as suddenly as it'd begun, it stopped. Rose dried her tears on the sleeve of her robes, and stood, her knees shaky and sore from the cramped position she'd been in.
"Right," she said, clearing her throat. "I've – I've got something to do."
Albus blinked up at her slowly, his sleep deprived brain functioning slower than usual.
Rose didn't wait for an answer, but sent a sure, strong smile at her cousin, and stepped into the flames. She tossed the green floo powder around her and yelled, with more conviction than she felt, "Malfoy Manor!"
It was only as she was whizzing through the Floo Network that Rose worried the Malfoys had some sort of floo barrier against certain people – her family did, so it'd only be fair to assume that Scorpius' would do the same. However, she stepped out of the rather grand, marble fireplace on the other end, and unmistakably found herself in the sitting room of the Malfoy estate. She felt a small tingle at knowing she had been added to the list of accepted guests.
The grandfather clock on the opposite wall told Rose that it was half six, much too early to be making social calls. Feeling rather foolish and as if she should perhaps have sent an owl ahead, she wrung her hands, looking around the room nervously, feeling as if perhaps she should just turn around and go back the way she came. She was just about to do so, when she heard a small voice greet her from the door.
"How can Patsy be helping you miss?" The little house elf bowed so deep, her long nose nearly touched the floor.
Rose wanted to laugh with relief.
"Patsy," she said, crossing to the tiny elf. "Is Scorp- erm, Master Scorpius at home?"
"Yes, Miss. Would Miss like me to fetch Master?"
"Please."
The small elf bobbed her head and exited the room swiftly. Rose put one hand on her chest, trying to still her racing heart.
There were double doors at the end of the sitting room, and she crossed the room and stepped outside, breathing in the fresh air. It was a cold day for June, and the gardens of the Malfoy Manor were covered in a light dew. Rose scanned the expansive property with her eyes, taking in the manicured lawns and artfully pruned shrubbery. It made such a stark contrast to the chaotic gnome-infested gardens she was used to at the Burrow and her own childhood home. She wondered if she could ever get used to living in a place as grand as this. She thought not.
Rose was just questioning whether or not she should go, feeling absurdly silly for coming here at such an irregular calling hour, still in her dress robes from the night before, when she heard footsteps approaching behind her.
She turned.
His hair was still rumpled from sleep, and his eyes had dark circles beneath them, but he looked in this moment the most like himself Rose had seen since the return from his capture. His eyes were bright and alert, blinking slowly as if unsure if she was actually standing before him, but his features remained a cool marble. His defenses were up, she knew. He didn't trust her not to break his heart again.
"Rose?" Scorpius said, the little wrinkle Rose loved making an appearance in his brow, "What are you doing here?" He moved towards her, slightly, stepping out onto the garden and into a direct ray of sunlight that lit his hair like a halo.
She stared up at him, her breath knocked out of her lungs just from the sight of him. She knew she must be making a fool of herself by gaping, but decided she didn't care. She walked towards him, content to just be near.
When a full minute had gone by, she realized she needed to say something – anything.
"I've just ended my engagement," Rose said slowly, tasting the words as she said them, and finding herself unexpectedly sad at the prospect of a life without Simon. He had, for all his faults, been a good boyfriend, and would forevermore be a part of her.
Scorpius looked down at her, his eyes slowly coming alive with unadultered joy. He reached for her, on impulse. Seeing his reaction only made what Rose was about to do all the more difficult.
"I didn't come here to tell you I want to be with you," she said quietly, grabbing his hands before he could cup her face and kiss her. If he kissed her, she didn't know if she could follow through as planned. The shock registered in his face, his features turning to marble again, breaking Rose's heart. "Please, let me explain," she begged.
He nodded once, curtly, unable to fully mask his hurt.
Rose glanced down at her fingers, weaved between his long, slim ones. A part of her felt so right with him here, and wanted to throw caution to the wind, and snog him silly. But another part, a louder part, told her to wait.
"I promised to spend my life with Simon, and I didn't take that lightly," she began, her breath forming a cloud in the brisk morning air. "And you and I – perhaps we were in love, once, but it's been three years. I've grown, and I've changed, and so have you. Too much has happened for us to just take off where we left this, all those years ago.
"What are you saying?" he asked quietly, staring at their intertwined fingers.
She touched his cheek, lightly. He looked up, their eyes meeting. His eyes were a light grey, wide and full of hurt. "I'm asking for some time," she replied, begging him silently to understand.
He was frowning. His white-blonde hair hung in his eyes as he looked down at her, and Rose had to physically restrain herself from running her fingers through his silky locks and giving into her every temptation.
"I love you, Rose." He said, his long fingers sweeping up to hold her chin. They were so close now, their breath intermingling in the crisp air. "I know what I want, and I escaped from hell to get it." He stepped back suddenly, running his hands through his hair in a frustrated gesture. Rose watched him sadly. Finally, he sighed and looked back up at her.
"Please understand," she said, biting her lip in worry.
"I do," he finally replied, drawing her into a hug. It felt warm and safe, and not entirely platonic, but Rose closed her eyes and breathed in his intoxicating scent, feeling for the first time since the night before that things were as they should be. Scorpius kissed the top of her head silently.
"Thank you," she breathed into his chest.
They stayed like that for several minutes, Rose enjoying the feeling of just being close to him - touching him. She knew she would not have this chance for a while, and so she savored the sensation.
"I want to spend my life with you, Rose," she could feel his body rumbling against her as he spoke, and a warmth spread through her at his words. "I've waited for three years, I can wait a little longer."