A/N: Why, hello there! No, I didn't die, didn't decide to join NASA and fly to Mars (or at least simulate it) and I haven't lost the capability to write, or at least I hope I haven't. Actually, it was a pretty massive surprise to find out that I hadn't updated this story in a year, I was like, it's been a couple of months at most, but no, pretty much a year. I'd feel more terrible about it if I could actually pinpoint where all the time has gone, but I can't. And I should have updated with this chapter quite literally a year ago. And now I've apoloised for that, albeit, seemingly very insincerely, I'd like to say a MASSIVE thank you to Diba28 for being the person to draw to my attention my year long break, and forcing me to galvanise myself into action. Thank you very much for the review, and it only seems fair to dedicate this chapter to you! Now, I have two of the most important weeks of my life coming up, the ones which potentially affect whether I get into university or not, and thus, have a direct effect on the rest of my life. Therefore, it's a safe bet to say that I won't be updating within the next fortnight. However, I promise right now, that it definitely will not be a year. I'm aiming for in about 3 weeks time (got to give myself a week to celebrate the end of exams, and then get over the celebrations) and, if it's any longer than that, I give permission for people to start sending me (mildly) abusive messages, to the effect that I'm a total failure and you all hate me. Hopefully, it won't come to that. And I have most definitely rambled on for long enough now, you guys have a good 5,270 words of reading to do. And, if you don't hate me all too much, would a review be too much to ask?
Disclaimer: I really don't deserve to own the characters that I actually did create, let alone the ones that I didn't.
I am woken by Scorpius attempting to get dressed quietly and failing miserably. He is pulling his trousers on, his tie slung casually around his shoulders when I open my eyes.
"What time is it?" I ask sleepily, fumbling around on the bedside table for my watch.
"Ten past eight. And good morning" Scorpius replies, as I slide out of his bed.
"You should have woken me" I gripe, sleepy more than anything.
"Had to take a cold shower" Scorpius grins, kissing me lightly on the forehead.
I hold my hands up in a gesture of surrender, to emphasise the fact that Scorpius' predicament is not my fault, by any means.
"Don't give me that look" Scorpius whines, looking me over reproachfully, "And go put some clothes on!"
He sounds so much like my dad, I can't help but laugh out loud, as I deliberately disobey him, reach up, and begin to knot his silver and green tie.
"Rosie."
There is so much emotional charge in that one word, just my name, that my breath hitches in my throat.
"Yes?" I answer innocently, supremely aware of the heat radiating from both our bodies.
"Please stop" he demands quietly, his grey eyes searing straight into my soul.
I don't.
I can't.
"Stop what?" I ask lightly, the knotting of this particular tie taking suspiciously more time than it's ever taken me to do Hugo's. "I'm just doing your tie for you" I continue, my tone hushed, for some unknown reason.
Scorpius reaches out, touches my hand.
The sheer electricity that passes between our bodies almost propels me halfway across the room.
My hand drops from his tie.
"We can talk about this later" he mutters, striding across the floor and retreating into the bathroom, leaving me with my sinfully impure thoughts.
I have no idea why Scorpius Malfoy has this dizzying effect on me. For Merlin's sake, I've known the guy since he was an eleven year old brat, and there has never been an exact transition, that I can pinpoint, where he turned into this man that I'm so eager to jump into bed with.
I hear the shower running again, and sigh.
Scorpius has the most extraordinary restraint; I'm quite in awe of him.
I can do nothing until he has exited the bathroom, so I lie back in Scorpius' bed, and breathe in his scent from his pillow. I try to move away from this highly sensitive topic, try to focus my mind on my upcoming Ball, but it doesn't work. The only image I see is Scorpius looking stunning in dress robes.
"You're falling in love with him for real, Rose" I admonish myself, narrowing my eyes at nobody in particular.
Even though I can see the problems, I know what all the problems in loving Scorpius Malfoy would entail, I can't stop myself.
Love.
Four letters arranged in a particular order don't convey much, do they? Nothing can really.
Well.
Yes, something can.
But Scorpius doesn't want that. And I really, really do.
"Why not?" I ask myself desperately, controlling the urge to batter the pillow in front of me like an infant.
"Why not?" I repeat, my heart heavier than I've ever known it.
I try to kid myself that I'm in the bathroom out of necessity.
In psychological terms, I believe this is called, 'Scorpius-Malfoy-is-in-serious-denial.'
I am clearly not in here just because I need to take another shower.
I am in here because I came within a micro-metre of picking Rose up, throwing her on my bed and ravishing her to within an inch of her life.
The worst part about it, is she's naïve enough to imagine that sex is what I want from her, the way I want her.
No, not naïve. Innocent.
And I never, ever want to take that innocence away from her.
I never want anyone to take that innocence away from her.
"Malfoy, you idiot" I scold myself, prepared to bash my head against the cold tile of the bathroom.
I grab my grey towel from the towel rail, and feel like crying into it.
There is a timid knock at the bathroom door.
"Scorpius, I need to get a shower." Rose reminds me that I have had quite the monopoly on the bathroom all morning.
"Come in" I reply, my stomach dancing weirdly.
She tries the door, realises it's locked, and there is a pause of a few moments, whilst she works the 'Alohomora' charm.
My hair is damp again, and I don't know why this bothers me so much as I put my school uniform back on.
"I'm seeing McGonagall again after class" Rose says gently, taking her toothbrush out of the glass holder, and squeezing toothpaste onto it.
She does the same for mine, holding it out to me, wordlessly.
The silence is uneasy as we brush out teeth together, despite the fact that in the mirror we look like the image of domestic bliss.
Marital bliss, even.
Merlin, there's that word again.
"You look stressed" Rose comments, taking her hair out of its ponytail, and tossing it around.
"Not stressed" I respond, drying my hands, realising how short I sound too late.
Rose sighs, and tugs at the bottom of the t-shirt she's wearing as pyjamas.
"Whoa!" I yelp, turning my back to her, "I'm still here."
"For real?" Rose asks dryly, "I hadn't noticed."
I have a simultaneous urge to run out the bathroom, yell at her until my voice is hoarse, and kiss her senseless.
The fact that all these desires overcome me at once, and that they're all so conflicting means that I'm left momentarily stunned, just looking at Rose, standing in her underwear.
"Oh, come on Scorpius" she exclaims, almost angrily, "I'm an adult, you're plenty experienced, and we're in a relationship. It was only a matter of time until you saw me in my underwear, considering that we've been sleeping in the same bed!"
Fight, or flight?
"Stop making this so bloody difficult for me!"
I view raising my voice as a sign of weakness; if it can't be conveyed intelligently through words at a regular volume, it isn't worth saying, but my voice is significantly raised now.
"I'm going to Care of Magical Creatures."
The volume of my voice has returned to normal, if slightly cold, as I leave Rose standing in a state of undress in our bathroom.
"What's wrong?" Al asks immediately, on my sitting down at the table.
There's no point in asking him how he guessed, it's fairly obvious that I'm miserable.
Very slowly, I turn my hazel eyes to look into his considered face, and mutter in a muted tone, "He really does not want to sleep with me."
I don't know what I'd expected from Albus, it's not like I've ever discussed this sort of thing with him before, and therefore his response is welcomingly comforting.
Rubbing his thumb over the hand I have resting on the table, he soothes, "It's really early days, Rosie. Maybe you should see it as a good thing, it's a sign that he respects you, because he's not treating you in the same way that he's appallingly treated other girls."
Deep inside, I know that my cousin is making perfect sense, but I still can't seem to accept it.
"But how else am I supposed to show him how much I-?" I leave my sentence dangling, not quite ready, emotionally, to fill it in.
Al senses my reluctance, and adds, "And anyway, this relationship's been going for a few weeks at most, it's probably a good idea to take things slowly, not to get carried away."
The ever level-headed cousin is talking with a flawless logic that simply can't contain my feelings.
So maybe it took me a little while to see Scorpius properly for who he is, but it doesn't mean that I have to overcompensate when finding the right time to show my love on that physical level.
"It's different Al" I sigh, "You wouldn't understand."
I sound condescending, I know. Like just because I'm experiencing this new feeling that Al hasn't, he'll find it impossible to comprehend. I guess that inside I'm still seething that I was stupid enough to lose out on six years of Scorpius, on account of familial prejudice.
And I'm taking it out on Al, merely because he's in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
"You're right" Al responds sadly, "I probably couldn't, but it doesn't mean that I won't try and help you in any way possible."
If feasible, I despise myself more for Al's sympathy; I've been so wrapped up in myself, or Danny, or Scorpius this term that I haven't stopped to see how Al's doing, whether he has any potential love interests on the cards, or even if he just wants a chat.
I make the greatest attempt to rectify this misdemeanour, starting now.
"Forget me and Scorpius, how're you? I haven't spoken to you nearly enough recently."
This serves the dual purpose of salving my conscience, and helping to forget my 'Scorpius predicament.'
And, uncharacteristically, Al spiels out a short history of his fortnight, and some names that I haven't heard mentioned before pop up. I guess he's had to learn a little more independence in the past few weeks, since I haven't been giving him the proper attention he deserves.
But I like the slightly more charismatic Al, I think it's a good change for him.
Lily Potter just so happens to be there, as I'm walking through the Entrance Hall, it's not as if I intentionally sought her out. And since she's there, I call out, "Potter. A word, if you please?"
The pretentious haughty mode of talking is my defence mechanism, I just can't help it.
She seems obliging enough, changing her path, so that she ends up by my side.
"Scorpius, you called?"
Mini-Potter has this way of being subservient and in control at the same time that would probably make a weaker man drool, and I notice that her skirt has gotten considerably shorter, and her blouse tighter, since the departure of James Potter. She'd easily turn my head, I have to admit, if I didn't need and want her cousin so much.
I nod curtly, slightly aloof, to compensate for the fact that I'm seeking advice from a young girl.
"I take it this is regarding Rose?" she probes, when I prove unwilling to open up.
Another nod, but the question that I want to ask her won't formulate in my mind properly.
"Regarding Rose and sex, maybe?" she continues questioningly, her eyes dancing knowingly.
Sex has never been an awkward subject for me, I view it as a perfectly legitimate bodily function, satisfying on a physical level, and nothing more.
But here, attempting to have this conversation, is more than awkward, because I have the feeling that sex with Rose will not be a purely physical experience, but much, much more.
"But you're not sleeping with her?" Mini-Potter's questions show precisely how intuitive she is; she's answering her own queries, in effect.
"That's right" I respond.
"But you want to?" she adds. Lily Potter certainly knows her cousin.
"You seem to understand exactly" I admit easily.
"No" she murmurs softly, "There's something I'm not quite getting."
Since she seems to be understanding the situation with such clarity, I say nothing.
"Ah" she stops, and smiles slowly, "She wants to. There's nothing stopping her, there's something stopping you."
All of a sudden, my spur of the moment decision isn't seeming like such a good idea.
"Actually, Potter, it doesn't matter, forget I said anything."
Despite the fact that she bids me farewell, and turns away, she evidently hasn't forgotten, because moments later, as I'm walking away, she turns back and advises, "You both want it Scorpius. Rose can't wait around forever. Just be safe, okay? And remember, you're her first."
And for a split second, I get a glance of a Lily Potter that isn't flirtatious or shallow, but sensitive and mature, and I feel that I ought to tell her that the refreshing change in attitude makes her a good deal more attractive.
But then, the moment passes, and she flicks her hair out of her face in a vacuous sort of way that looks rehearsed, and she's back to Mini-Potter, who presents the challenge of being James Potter's little sister, and is therefore desirable, regardless.
Except to me.
In the past few weeks, my 'type' has changed significantly, and I have Rose to thank for that.
"So."
The one word sounds pathetic, especially since it converts into such a lingering silence.
Despite the fact that it's practically October, and summer is long gone, Scorpius and I are sitting outside, enjoying the mild(ish) weather.
Well, maybe 'enjoying' is the wrong word.
We're sitting on the grass, that silence manifesting itself between us.
"So" Scorpius repeats, his gaze fixed intently on me.
This is communication breakdown at its very worst.
"About this morning-"
I am cut off abruptly by Scorpius' mouth crushing against mine, and his mouth tells a story of hunger and lust without using words.
But it doesn't feel right.
Not here, not now.
I pull myself away, distancing myself.
"What brought that on?" I question, confused by his sudden u-turn.
His cool response is, "I thought that was what you wanted from me."
I can't deny that; he's perfectly correct. I suppose I just wanted it on my terms, and not sitting on the grassy bank just shy of the Forbidden Forest. And then, I realise that I don't want Scorpius to expect me to want to sleep with him, I want him to work for it, I want him to be the suave, smooth, slightly arrogant Slytherin that he was for all those other girls.
It's such a double standard, I know, wanting to be treated the way all those simpering bimbos gush about, but I can't help the feeling.
"See, Rose" Scorpius explains, a hint of irritation in his voice, "This morning, you wanted to take it fast, I wanted to take it slow. This afternoon, I want to take it fast, but, all of a sudden you want to take it slow. Why is that exactly?"
He's asking me to explain the inexplicable; perhaps it's pure apprehension, maybe I'm just fickle, who knows? I certainly don't.
"I suppose I just want it to be on my terms" I answer meekly, throwing a glance towards the menacing Forest.
Scorpius laughs slightly, and says, "A sentiment I can entirely understand."
What Scorpius doesn't understand is the anxiety that I'm experiencing when faced with the prospect that my first time is most likely going to be with a guy who has already slept with half the female population of my school, who'll have expectations, and who I'm undoubtedly in love with, against my better judgement.
And then, there's this perpetual nagging fear that once Scorpius has had me, he'll lose interest, and I'll return to the despised, uncouth Weasley that he once took me for.
"It's just that, every time we've ever spoken about it you've brushed me off, and whenever I feel like I might want to, you totally withdraw all physical contact. I guess you just surprised me."
That too is the truth, and it is one that doesn't necessitate a long winded explanation of my emotional incapacities.
Scorpius' expression is open, which is progress, and I am in no rush for lunch to be over and to have to go to History of Magic. I figure that now is as good a time as ever to make a start on the entire issue, so I begin.
"Nobody's going to dispute that I'm as inexperienced as you are experienced, and that scares me senseless" Rose states, her eyes conveying her sincerity, "And I just want so much to connect with you on a level that I've never been able to share with anyone else before. I suppose it comes across as over-enthusiasm, because I know this won't mean the same to you as it will for me. You already know a million girls on that intimate level, girls you probably never had any real feelings for, so, I don't know, I'm determined to get you to be mine as soon as I can. I want you to be mine."
This is what I meant when I said sex could never be on a purely physical level between Rose and I.
As I attempt to find a way to convey to her exactly why she's so different from all the others, she continues, "And Scorpius, every single time you touch me, every time you kiss me, something strange happens. My body's on fire, and my mouths dry, and you're the only water than can satiate me."
She's all talked out, and she looks at me like she expects me to be repulsed, or surprised.
I'm neither.
She could never repulse me, she's far too beautiful for that, and I can be nothing but touched at her honesty.
I can't be surprised because I know the exact feeling that she's just described, because it's exactly how I feel when I'm with her, when she runs her hands through my hair, or kisses my bottom lip lightly, in that way she's prone to.
And now she's said it, told me exactly how she's thinking, I can see exactly why she's been so eager. She can't see that I love her; she thinks that she has to make me love her. She thinks that's how she can show how she feels for me.
"Silly Rose" I whisper into her hair, "I'd never hurt you."
She's been worried about that too, I realise suddenly. The actual physical aspect of sex, so I when I tell her that I'll never hurt her, I mean it both emotionally and physically.
Even though we've had this chat, cleared the air, so to speak, I know that it'll never be settled until I've shown her that while sex might not be a big deal for me, sex with her is the biggest deal.
"Listen to me Rose" I say, looking into her hazel eyes, "I was worried earlier, which is why I kissed you like that, and made the entire situation so despicably uncomfortable. Just know that from now on, it's up to you. We go as far as you like. Not me, you. Okay?"
I don't know why I don't just spit out the stupid words, "Rose Weasley, I love you."
I've said the words before, to her even, but that was a different kind of love.
This is the love that she meant when she asked whether I loved her, and I couldn't reply.
I just wish that she'd ask me the question again now, because I know that my instantaneous response would be, "With all my heart."
The fact that Hugo doesn't moan like the mummy's boy that he is when I, quite literally, bump into him on the way to Potions with Scorpius is quite surprising.
What is even more surprising is the fact that at the time I bump into him, he is engaged in an intimate conversation with Isabella DiNozzo.
"Hugo" I greet, the slight inflection in my voice making it questioning, without being too obvious.
"Rose" he returns, clearly aggrieved that his engagement with little DiNozzo has been broken off.
"Weasley."
This is Scorpius, and it is his friendly advice to my little brother not to lay a finger on Isabella, unless he wants to face the full force of DiNozzo's wrath.
The greetings circle around us, until I'm sure that I've said hello not only to every participant of the conversation, but also to a couple of portraits, and the little Rose voices inside my head.
"Nice day" Hugo comments lamely, and Scorpius nods in agreement.
"Yes, mild."
This is surpassing even my pain threshold, and my tolerance to pain is remarkably high.
"Well, I suppose we'll be seeing each other around" I say, tugging the back of Scorpius' robes subtly, in a sort of 'Quick, retreat' fashion.
With the long-legged strides of both couples, we are safely away from my brother, for the time being.
"Is he mad?" Scorpius stutters, as we clamber down to the Potions dungeons. "When DiNozzo finds out, your little brother is going to resemble the spectacular Hogwarts mashed potato."
A point I gave consideration to when formulating the plan, but which doesn't feel particularly important now.
"Character building" I reply cheerily, "The little squirt could do with toughening up a bit."
That, and the fact that once I speak to DiNozzo, and he realises that Hugo is merely a pawn in my game and that Isabella is only at threat of a broken heart when I decide she is, he might be willing to make that apology to Scorpius that I've been craving for the best part of a week.
"You're a ruthless big sister, you know that?" Scorpius asks, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
"He can cast a good enough Shield Charm" I point out, as if this legitimises my use of my brother, "I mean, in my family the Shield Charm is a basic necessity, like oxygen, or water."
Scorpius raises an eyebrow sceptically, and says, "Hugo's going to need more than a good Shield Charm if he's going to stop DiNozzo from murdering him."
"Oh, he'll be absolutely fine" I reassure Scorpius, so utterly convinced by my own leverage. "I mean, this is Phillipe DiNozzo, not Lord Voldemort."
I see a visible flinch in response to that name, even though everyone else in the entire world has no problem with it after more than twenty years.
"I wouldn't put it past DiNozzo, in all truthfulness" Scorpius admits, his head instinctively turning over his shoulder, despite the fact that Hugo and Isabella are long gone.
I glance over at Rose while she measures out liquids and weighs solids for the next stage of her potion. Her forehead is crinkled in concentration, and I wonder if I press any more about DiNozzo, she might actually have a panic attack.
But, as she lifts her head from her cauldron, the lines in her forehead disappear, and she asks cheerily, "Is that blueberry to you? The textbook says blueberry blue, but I'm not really all that sure what that looks like."
With her hair tied back to prevent any accidents, and her face all flushed from leaning over the gently bubbling cauldron, she looks much younger than her eighteen years.
"Er, yeah, sure, I think that looks blueberry-ish."
She smiles brightly at me, but before she can check her textbook for the next crucial step, I grab the top of her arm gently.
"Rosie" I say, warningly, and she turns back on hearing my sombre tone.
"What is it?" she asks, sounding anxious.
"You look after him, okay?" I finish, and Rose's face scrunches up in deliberation.
"Look after whom, precisely?" she queries, whilst mentally checking off the names of all the boys she knows.
My mouth has just opened, when she cuts me off with, "Oh, you mean Hugo!"
I nod, and she laughs softly at me. "Scorpius, Hugo is a big boy, and he certainly doesn't need me to look out for him. And, anyway, I happen to think that he and Isabella look really compatible together."
I try one last time to impress upon Rose how brutal DiNozzo can be, but I can tell before I get the first sentence out, that she won't take me seriously. "Rosie, honestly, you underestimate DiNozzo. I mean the guy enjoys inflicting immense pain on others, and I mean immense pain. Hugo wouldn't stand a chance again him alone, and that's before we add his perpetual bodyguards into the equation. Just make sure that he knows to tread carefully around that girl."
Even though Rose has decidedly not been listening to me, the tone in which I refer to Isabella DiNozzo grabs her attention.
"Are you sure you're not a big bother?" she teases me, although I was actually attempting to make myself sympathetic towards her brother's case.
"Most definitely not a big brother" I reply firmly, as Rose sprinkles ground up holly leaves into her cauldron, causing the liquid inside to change into a violent shade of orange.
"I can't reiterate this to you anymore, Scorpius. Hugo. Will. Be. Fine."
I sigh, and turn away from Rose.
She has that stubborn look etched into her face, the one that tells me no matter how hard I try to convince her that I know better, she will continue to ignore me.
"I had to go for the stubborn one, didn't I?" I ask myself, and, for the first time in that lesson, turn my attention to my cauldron.
"Scorpius, stop fussing! Of course I'm fine to go and see McGonagall on my own" I scold, on exiting the Potions dungeon, after an excruciating double period on the uses of belladonna in potions.
He gives me one last backwards glance, which, coupled with the fourteen or so kisses is a more than adequate farewell, and I turn the other way down the empty corridor to take the most direct route to McGonagall's office.
That is, until a figure steps out of the shadows, into my path.
"Fancy seeing you here, Weasley" he mocks, echoing my own words.
I smile pleasantly and reply, "Phillipe, how wonderful to see you! Now, why don't you find a nice dark corner to die in quietly?"
He tuts at me, advancing slowly, like a wild animal hunting its prey.
"That wasn't very nice, was it now, Rosie?"
There is marked difference between the way Scorpius calls me 'Rosie' and the way DiNozzo does it; from Scorpius' mouth the name sounds all soft and gentle. From DiNozzo, well, that's an entirely different matter; let's just say he uses a tone that most people reserve exclusively for expletives.
"I believe this is known as 'invasion of personal space'" I comment lightly, as DiNozzo continues to approach me.
He doesn't reply, just keeps his eyes fixed on mine. Danny's eyes were chocolate brown, Scorpius' are steely silver, but DiNozzo's can be described in no way other than black. Ebony black. It's quite disconcerting.
"Was there something you wanted in particular, DiNozzo, or was this just a social call?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow easily, and glancing tiredly at him.
"Oh, I have every intention of getting what I want from you" he replies, and I reason that since he hasn't even got his wand drawn, he can't do much damage.
How wrong can one girl be?
Because Phillipe DiNozzo opens his mouth slowly, trails a finger down my left cheek (at which I shudder, naturally, but nonetheless find myself paralysed) and presses his lips into mine.
His kiss doesn't generate fireworks, I'd actually have to consider Avada-ing myself if it had, but I don't pull away. I don't know why in Merlin's name not, I quite enjoy the whole mutual fidelity thing that Scorpius and I have going on, but it's like I'm under a spell, a spell that only suave, tall, dark Italian men with ebony black eyes can cast.
He breaks away, his eyes moving slowly from my eyes to my mouth, my neck, and further down still. "There, now we both have a little leverage, don't we?"
I don't entirely register what he means until after he's left my dumb-struck standing in the middle of a dark corridor.
The first move I make is to chew my bottom lip in utter anxiety, my next is to lightly touch my lips, the lips that can no longer claim to belong entirely to Scorpius Malfoy, because they've been tainted.
And all of a sudden, I am very, very troubled about Hugo's physical well-being.
"How'd it go?" I ask Rose from the coffee table, as she enters the room, unexpectedly pale.
I naturally, assume the worst on the Ball situation, so I'm surprised when she replies, "Oh, it went fine. She's given me permission, and I'm allowed to invite my parents and Harry as the guests of honour. She seems quite enthusiastic about it."
Rose's tone is not that of a girl who has just been granted permission to hold a Ball she's one hundred percent dedicated to. "Rosie, what's up?" I ask softly, rising from my position on the sofa, and crossing the room to stand near her, since she's leaning against the wall near the Portrait Hole, and hasn't managed to make it all that far into the sitting room.
Rose brushes a hand across her forehead and whispers, "It's probably nothing, just a headache and a bit of a temperature. Just a cold, that's all."
I place the back of my hand on her forehead, and she shudders under my touch. "You don't have a raised temperature. Are you sure that's it?"
If Rose is merely approximating illness, she's doing a really good job of it; her face is pale and drawn, she's shivering, and her eyes are devoid of any light.
"Perhaps I should put you to bed?" I query, and since my mother was never that brilliant a nurse-maid when I was sick, I actually have no idea whether I should try to keep her awake, or whether she needs to drink lots of fluids, or if a simple Cold Draught will completely cure her.
"No, no" she protests, batting my worried hands away. "Too much to do; people to speak to, dress to design, invitation list to put together."
She usually revels in these administrative necessities, and I've never met a girl yet who doesn't simply adore designing dresses, so I take the lack of passion in her voice as a sign of real sickness. "You look anxious Rosie" I comment, as I lead her slowly from her wall support, to a sofa.
If it was a reaction I was seeking from her, this comment certainly has the desired effect.
"Anxious?" she repeats, her pitch shrill. "Anxious?" she questions again, "I'm not anxious, what would I be anxious for?"
A fake giggle follows these words, and her entire demeanour clearly says, "I'm anxious about something."
I drop it; she clearly does not want to talk about it.
"About the Shield Charm" she adds, twisting a strand of already curly, fiery hair around the index finger of her right hand, "How good would it have to be to deflect anything, say, you could throw at me?"
Ah. Substitute 'you' for 'Phillipe DiNozzo' and 'me' for 'Hugo' and I believe we have the root of her problem. Rose is finally concerned for her little brother.
