AN: Whew, this story was originally started in 2013 and was posted on here on and DA until I ran out of steam and abandoned it. I've been reworking and revising it over the past year because I love the story and I'm determined to finish it. I have most of the story written, just a handful of chapters left to write - it's exciting and nerve-wracking to finally start posting! AH! Be gentle on me - think of it as more of an AU (especially since it's not Cursed Child compliant) and there are some things that, as far as I know, are not known in canon. The old version will remain up here for sentimental reasons (Titled: In Regards to Towels (Old Version)).

This story will be updated every 2 weeks.

Without further ado, welcome to the new and improved (I like to think, at least) version of In Regards to Towels! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

The manor was quiet. Its walls rested in silence and breathed in peace. Or maybe that was just his mind running away with him. He was sure it at least preferred the busyness of the past decades to the violence and evil that had constantly battered its elegant stone walls prior. At the moment, the only thing battering it was the storm that had rolled in half an hour ago.

Scorpius shook his head to bring his thoughts back from their strange wanderings. He had never doubted that the manor, so steeped in magic of all sorts throughout the years, had its own thoughts on the inhabitants that had occupied it – violent and settled alike. He appreciated that it kept most of its opinions to itself. Running his fingers absently across the stone windowsill beneath him, his attention drifted back to the storm outside.

With his parents gone for a vacation in Brazil and school starting in less than two weeks, he'd had the intention of using the quiet to get an even better head start on the textbooks for his upcoming classes. If he wanted any chance of seeing his friends outside of study groups, he needed the free time of the final weeks of break to have any hope of keeping up and getting the N.E.W.T. scores he was aiming for. Though he had achieved his goals on the O.W.L.s last year, it was never too early to start studying for the next examinations.

With the storm raging outside, however, he knew he would have to start his serious studies after it was over. He'd brought a textbook with him to his seat in the windowsill, but it was all for show. There had always been something about storms that captivated him. The unbridled power that held the visible world at its mercy. In the face of it, he was helpless. Vulnerable. Normally, he went out of his way to protect himself from such things – natural or otherwise – but in the privacy of his own room, he could make some allowances.

"Young master?"

He turned quickly to see their house-elf, Skilt, bowing. The storm outside must have covered the sound of his arrival. Scorpius frowned, "Is everything alright?"

Skilt bowed again, blinking up at Scorpius apologetically, "Skilt is sorry for bothering the young master, but...there is someone at the door, sir. And they are very wet. Dripping all over the floor. Skilt will clean it as soon as they are gone, sir."

Scorpius stared blankly at him for a moment. Someone was at the manor and had been caught in the storm. Muggles wouldn't get past the wards turning them away, so why didn't they just apparate in? Or contact him somehow ahead of time? And if they were there for his parents then it was strange they hadn't known-

"...and shirt, sir?"

Snapping out of his thoughts again, it was to find Skilt glaring at him expectantly. A shirt. Yes. For the person. He hurried across his room and grabbed a few from their drawers before heading into the hallway. His mind was still trying to solve the riddle of who in their right mind would have ventured so far out of the way at this time of night in the middle of a storm. Descending the stairs in a rush, Scorpius heard the telltale 'pop' of Skilt apparating away. Halfway down, he stopped dead in confusion as he spotted their visitor.

She stood with her arms crossed, trembling with cold as the water dripped from her hair and clothes, pooling around her sneakers. She was peering through a doorway connected to the foyer so didn't notice him immediately. He had no idea what to say. Taking advantage of the momentary invisibility, he remained rooted where he was and tried to settle his thoughts into something more coherent.

She finally spotted him and offered a wary smile, "Hello, Scorpius."

A frown crossed his face, "Good evening, Rose." He scanned the foyer, but beyond Rose and Skilt, it was empty, "Why are you here?" There was a more polite way to ask, he was certain, and he mentally cringed at the note of coldness in his tone that he hadn't intended. After all, it wasn't as if he hated Rose Weasley...but there was no concrete reason to like her either. She was practically a stranger. Throughout their years as classmates, she had made a distinct point of either avoiding him or throwing the occasional hostility towards him.

He didn't miss the momentary wince that pinched her features, but she regained her composure quickly, "Well, I'd love to sit down and discuss it, but..." she gestured to all of herself, "...I was hoping I could get a towel?"

He started, mortified at his lack of hospitality, "Oh, right. Sorry. Here's some dry clothes." He offered her the bundle of fabric he was wringing in his hands. As she stepped up to take it, he gestured to the doorway off to the left, "Uh...there's a bathroom down there, first door on the left. I'll..." he paused, glancing around for Skilt, "I'll get you a towel. I don't think that bathroom has any. It's more of an extra, in a way, and I really don't..." he trailed off with yet another frown at her, "Sorry."

A slow smile lifted the edges of her lips and he was taken off guard at the warmth in it. Then, she was gone, sloshing down the hallway, sneakers making pitiful noises as they squelched across the marble floor. He heard the door close and allowed himself a long, slow breath. He had no idea what was going on and felt like he was proving to be a poor host. After a few minutes, Skilt appeared in front of him with a pile of towels. Scorpius fought a smile at the overabundance of linen, but then again, Skilt was most likely overabundantly offended at the puddles that tracked across the floor.

He offered a quiet, "Thank you, Skilt," as he took them. At that moment, Skilt made a quiet noise of distress and apparated away, almost causing the towels to fall onto the soaked floor. Looking around, he understood the strange behavior.

Rose Weasley was padding into the foyer, hands wringing out her red hair casually while wearing nothing but one of Scorpius's button-down shirts. He froze, heat rising to his cheeks. She came to a stop in the doorway and crossed her arms again as she directed a pointed look at the towels, "Are you going to stare all night or give me the towel?"

He felt slightly better as he noted that she seemed just as uncomfortable. He gave a sharp nod, gaze dropping to the floor as he held out the pile of towels toward her, "Sorry...I wasn't expecting...I must not have grabbed enough..." shirts. All he'd grabbed were shirts. He grimaced, "Sorry."

She responded with a weak laugh, "It's...it's fine. You certainly got enough towels, at least."

With a nod, he felt her take the pile from him and he turned around and summoned Skilt, "Could you please grab a t-shirt and some sweatpants from my room for Ms. Weasley?" In a breath, Skilt was gone and back again. Rose added the clothes to her pile and scampered back to the bathroom. Scorpius rubbed his face with both hands, trying to get the image of her standing in the doorway out of his head. He'd never pictured Rose Weasley as anything other than something to be expressly avoided and ignored. He sighed. With that picture flickering through his mind, he admitted that ignoring her was now going to be a bit harder to do.

Skilt tugged at his sleeve, "May Skilt offer an opinion?"

"Of course, Skilt."

"Skilt feels it would have been more...appropriate to offer some of the mistress's clothes instead of the young master's."

It took a beat for what the house-elf said to sink in, but when it did, all he could do was make a frustrated sound and cover his face again.

"Is the young master alright?"

Scorpius huffed something close to a laugh into his palms, "No, but I'll manage." He dropped his hands and gave a tired smile to Skilt, "Thank you for telling me. I'll check with Ms. Weasley to see if she'd like to change...again when she comes back out."

Skilt bowed before taking his leave once more.

It was an undetermined time of dwelling on every mistake he'd made in the past ten minutes before he heard the door open down the hall and the quiet padding of bare feet approaching. The t-shirt was long and loose on her and she'd rolled up the hems of the flannel sweatpants Skilt had grabbed. She didn't look too uncomfortable, but he felt strange seeing her swallowed by his own lounging clothes.

Before she'd even come to a stop, he spoke, "Look, Skilt pointed out that offering up my own clothes probably hadn't been the most-"

She held up a hand with a laugh and the apology died on his lips. "It's fine. They're...they're very comfortable and I'm not going to get hung up on who they belong to." She smiled at him and lifted the wet bundle in her hands, "But...as comfy as they are, I'd prefer my own clothes. Could I get these dried or some-"

Skilt abruptly popped out of nowhere with a glare at her, wrenching the clothes from her outstretched hands, and muttered something about puddles before disappearing yet again. Scorpius made a mental note to do something very nice for the house elf after their guest left. Skilt had probably been looking forward to a quiet couple of weeks just as much as Scorpius had and now it was all ruined...and it appeared to somehow be his fault. Which led him back to the question at hand.

Rose had a startled expression on her face as she looked down at her now-empty hands. Rubbing his eyes, Scorpius turned and started toward the den.

His visitor cleared her throat and he paused to glance back at her, his hand falling back to his side. She lifted her palms up, "Uh...where are you going?"

Rolling his eyes, he vaguely gestured for her to follow, "I don't really feel inclined to stand awkwardly in the entryway with you anymore. And Skilt will have my head if I keep him from cleaning up the mess any longer."

She looked confused for a moment as she glanced around, then she took in the floor and made an enlightened noise, "Puddles?"

He nodded, "Puddles." Then he continued on his original trek, hearing her feet padding after him a moment later. Moving through an adjoining doorway, he led her down the hallway toward their destination, trying to rein in his scattered thoughts. As he passed into the den, he took a steadying breath, letting the smell of books and warmth settle his nerves. It was one of his favorite rooms, second only to his own. He preferred to speak with Rose about her mysterious visit in a territory he could feel completely at ease in and his room was not an option.

Pushing away the persistent image of her from earlier, he crossed the room and sank into his comfy chair. Scorpius tried to get settled, all the while attempting to work out how his evening of storm-watching in peace had gotten so turned around.