A/N - You're all, without exception, absolutely wonderful :) Thank you so much for all these lovely reviews! This is a quiet chapter, I think, and I hope you like it...

TO LADY OF THE LAKE: Yes, I come from a massive family! I have 24 first cousins, and we're all similar ages so the Weasley-Potter dynamic already feels very familiar to me. I'm glad you like my writing, and your review was so kind :)

A Rest For Rose

She's tired, the outburst last week was actually one of a few, with too many straws piled on the poor camel's back. And it's showing, in the bags under her eyes and her snappish nature, and she knows that everyone notices and that just makes her more crabby and her remarks more scathing.

But Scorpius has noticed, because of course he notices everything about her, and he's been trying, trying, trying so hard to make her feel better (and by extension, the rest of the castle too) but he can't.

He gave her chocolates, and she left them in the common room with a distasteful glance. He left a flower on her bed, and she crushed it when she was sleeping, not realising it was there. Then he started really thinking, listening into everything she said and tearing it to pieces to find what she needed.

And then he came up with this plan.

He's had Rose directed to the Head Boy's study, the use of which he blackmailed James for with many threats, and he's set it all out. The sofa is pulled up in front the fire, with a table at one end piled high with books. The room seems a little smaller, a little cosier, infinitely welcoming.

Rose knocks on the door wearily, half leaning on the wall to support her, face betraying her fatigue. Scorpius opens it almost nervously, a sheepish smile beseeching her to smile and be calm and happy and herself again.

She gasps, stepping into the room as if into a warm embrace. A smile spreads over her face slowly, a smile of contentment, and she feels a glorious lassitude seep through her limbs, loosening the tension there. Scorpius grins, recognising the change in her, and he holds out his hands to her. She slips her own into his, stepping close to him and resting her head on his chest.

"I love you" She sighs quietly "Oh I love you I love you I love you"

He laughs softly "Love you too, Rosie" and she hits his shoulder lightly at the vaguely mocking tone.

They sit by the fire for an age, just talking quietly, catching up with each other's lives, sharing small jokes. It's wonderful, perfect in a muted way, like a glorious golden necklace shrouded in a fine translucent cloth.

He's exactly what she needed, needs, will need. A safe home in a storm, somewhere she can run to, just to rest, to sleep, to be quiet.

Please review!