Note: This is our first bit from Rose's POV and she is dealing with some things. There are moments of heavy angst in both POV, but Rose's are a bit more frequent. This chapter does contain bits of self-loathing and sadness. Thank you to everyone who has joined me so far and I hope you continue to enjoy seeing how the story unfolds!

Rose woke in a strange room, in a strange bed, with strange clothes on. Needless to say, she was disoriented. Memories trickled back to her and tension seeped in as the doubts and worry reminded her of their insistent presence. She was at Malfoy Manor, in a guest bedroom, wearing Scorpius Malfoy's pajamas, and her life was still falling apart. She groaned, rolling over to shove her face into the pillow as she fought down the panic that had started to flutter in her chest. Everything was fine. It was all fine. She would get up, find her clothes, be civil to her host, and take a step back from the chaos.

She heard the front door open and close, muffled but distinct. She emerged from the pile of comforters and moved to the window to peer down toward the drive. Scorpius was running away from the manor and there was a brief, muddled moment where she thought he couldn't even stand to be in the same building as her. Then she realized he was just jogging. She watched him until he was out of view.

It threw her off to witness Scorpius Malfoy doing something so...muggle-like. She knew it shouldn't and that he was just as human as the next person, but it was hard to dissociate all the stories about the history of the Malfoys. Of course, her mother mentioned being friends with Scorpius's father occasionally – she was a firm believer in second chances. Rose's father was a bit more wary of the new-and-improved idea of Malfoys, but her mother insisted it was just him being stubborn and set in his ways.

Rose felt guilt start to settle in her stomach as she turned away from the window. She'd always thought of herself more like her mother in the idea of second-chances, but she couldn't ignore the fact that she'd never given Scorpius any opportunity to even have a first one. Instead, the stories from the war had clung to her and certain thoughts and descriptions had apparently sunk deep.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she ground her palms against her eyes to try and head off the sting of tears. Merlin, she was a miserable person. She had been rotten in so many ways and...even now, she'd just run off when she should have been there. Some Gryffindor. But she couldn't stay there. She'd been so crushed under the weight of everyone's misery that she couldn't even deal with her own.

And that made her so, so selfish.

Clenching her jaw, she rubbed the dampness away and stood. She wasn't going to wallow in her own spiraled thoughts. She was going to change, leave this room, and maybe explore. Then, when Scorpius came back, she would tell him everything and then...and then she'd figure out what she needed to do. Either commit to her respite or walk right back into the chaos.

Her own clothes were neatly folded on the dresser and she quickly changed, feeling a bit more grounded. There was a brand-new toothbrush sitting on the sink next to a cup in the bathroom connected to her room. Glancing at the mirror, she ran her fingers through the mess of her hair, attempting to tame the more interesting curls that had resulted from going to bed while it was still wet. Giving up, she pulled it all back into a low pony-tail and focused on brushing her teeth like a functional human being.

Then, she went to the door, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the hallway. There was no round of applause waiting there for her small victories, but she still felt lighter as she headed downstairs to begin her exploration of Malfoy Manor. After all the stories she'd heard about it, she'd been surprised the night before by how warm it was. She was curious to see the extent of its improvement. Instead of fully committing to the adventure, however, she found herself wandering into the lovely room she had spoken to Scorpius in the night before. It had immediately found its way into her heart as she'd stood in the doorway and she was dying to take some time to examine all the books that had been able to temporarily distract from the weight all around her.

It felt like only minutes had passed when her attention was pulled away from a first edition Beetle the Bard story collection (she managed to just barely restrain herself from grabbing it) by the sound of the front door opening. She darted toward the foyer determined to say good morning at the very least.

The words died on her tongue as she witnessed Scorpius Malfoy whipping his shirt off as he passed the doorway, oblivious to the audience. Heat rushed across her cheeks as she watched him move quickly up the stairs. In the past, she'd been able to at least acknowledge that the youngest Malfoy wasn't unattractive, but...now she had an entirely different appreciation for good genes and physical activity. Rose could only imagine how many members of the Slytherin – no, scratch that – of the Hogwarts population would have died to witness what she'd just had a front row seat to.

Her face was still burning and she realized she was standing in the middle of a doorway staring after him like some mooncalf. Shaking herself, she tore her gaze from the stairs only to be confronted by the house-elf from the night before. He was standing across the foyer from her wearing a small, green apron and a distinctly disapproving look as he watched her. With a tight smile of greeting, Rose turned and followed Scorpius's lead by running up the stairs and heading back to the guest room. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it. Well, that had been a more exciting adventure than she'd really intended it to be.

Eyes slipping closed, Rose tried to think back to the warm room full of books, making a list of all the texts she was dying to actually get her hands on. She wondered if Scorpius would be willing to let her peruse them during her time at the manor. Potions, history, charms...all sorts of things she could expand her current abilities in. And to think, Scorpius had ready access to all of these.

Footsteps sounded past the door. Rose scrambled away, turning to stare at the wood as if she could see through it. She absently wondered if that was Scorpius fully dressed or walking by in a towel after a post-run shower. Then she lightly slapped her cheeks to get away from that line of thinking. She didn't need pictures of that sort running through her head. Her life was already enough of a mess.

A sharp knock on the door surprised her. She hadn't heard the footsteps come back. Frowning, she pulled the door open to find the house-elf – still apron-clad – standing there with a narrow expression.

He bowed, "Good morning, miss. Skilt has prepared a second plate of food since Skilt realized the young miss was awake." A pointed look. "It is in the kitchen."

Was she hungry? It probably wouldn't hurt to try and eat something. Rose nodded, "Thank you. Um...where exactly is the kitchen?"

The elf turned and started toward the stairs without a word. She gaped after him. Then, he turned and gestured at her impatiently. What was with people in this household just wandering away without a word and expecting a person to follow them? She quickly made her way after him and soon she was standing in the doorway of a brightly lit kitchen. Scorpius was there, leaning against the counter, a bagel held loosely in his hand as he read the Prophet .

She glanced around to thank Skilt, but the house-elf had disappeared. Surprise.

Clearing her throat, Rose tried to smile and moved into the room, "Good morning."

He straightened and as soon as he looked at her she knew. The Prophet . Of course.

"No," was all she could get out before she had to cover her face. The tears she'd managed to stave off earlier were refusing to be ignored this time. The chaos had followed her here. The crush of terror swept over her just as it had the day before and the days before that.

There was a light touch on her elbow. She leaned into it without looking at him and an instant later there were arms around her. He was warm. He was so far from part of the problem that she almost felt worse having led the chaos here to this lovely place of quiet and light and books and she was rotten, rotten, rott-

"No you're not."

She hadn't realized she'd been saying it aloud. Snapping her jaw shut, she gently pushed away, wiping her cheeks roughly. He let her go without another word, but then he just stood there watching her. And she couldn't stand it.

"Skilt said there was food for me."

After looking at her for another long moment, Scorpius nodded, turned back to the counter and grabbed his own plate and another that had been beyond it. He gestured to the small table further into the room.

Ten minutes later, silence still reigned as they sat across from each other. Rose was engrossed in pushing food around on her plate. Any actual intention of eating had fled in the wake of memories. Scorpius was paging through the Prophet casually like it didn't contain a small bit of destruction.

As if knowing she was thinking about it, her companion folded the paper up and set it off to the side. He glanced over at her, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

He nodded and gathered up the dishes, including her mostly full plate. She didn't pretend that she still wanted it. He moved toward the sink and started the water. He grabbed some dish soap and a sponge. Like he was about to wash the dishes by hand.

"What are you doing?" blurted out of her before she could stop herself.

Glancing at her, Scorpius frowned, "The dishes?"

"But..."

"We can't use magic outside of school."

"But won't Skilt..."

He waved a hand dismissively, "He'll get over it. I owe him for dealing with the mess last night anyway."

Maybe she really had picked the perfect place to get away from everything. She had been starting to worry about stewing too much in her own head, but here was Scorpius providing her with a compelling distraction. He was so... different from what she'd always assumed.

She frowned, "I don't think he likes me very much."

Scorpius grinned as he turned his focus back to the sink, "Skilt? Don't take it personally. He pretends he isn't a fan of anyone. I'm lucky he hasn't tried to kick me out of the manor while my parents are gone."

A laugh burst out of her as she pictured the little house-elf chasing Scorpius out with a broom, clad in his green apron, "Well, he did seem to be wearing his battle gear earlier."

"The apron? He let you see it?"

She shrugged, "I think we surprised each other, so..." It wasn't really necessary to mention the exact cause of the situation. Or think about it. She looked over at Scorpius, taking in the way that the morning light streaming through the window above the sink illuminated him like some sort of thing of pure light. Her eyebrows drew down and she focused back on the conversation, "Is the green one the only one he has?"

Scorpius nodded, "We sort of tricked him into making it for himself and he hasn't let us get away with it since."

Rose stood and made her way over to the sink, grabbing a hand towel from where it hung off a drawer handle, "You tricked him? How does that work?" She grabbed one of the plates from the drying rack and started wiping it off.

"Well, whenever he cooked, he'd make a mess. Of course, he'd clean up the kitchen immediately, but he always ignored the fact that his garments would get to looking pretty awful. Dad could have said something and Skilt would have made sure to clean himself up after cooking, too, but we didn't want to make more work for him. So, Mum suggested we get him an apron somehow." Scorpius handed her the last glass before starting to put the dried dishes away, "Dad was the one who figured out how to go about it without offending and unintentionally firing Skilt. He had Mum ask Skilt to make a little apron for a distant niece's birthday."

"Does this distant niece exist?"

He grinned over at her, "Not at all. But Skilt didn't know that. So he made that little apron and presented it to us. None of us took it from him and we told him the niece's parents had changed their minds about material presents, instead requesting money to be put into an account for her when she got older. Dad told Skilt to just keep it as it wouldn't fit any of us and it would be a waste if such quality craftsmanship wasn't used."

Rose handed him the glass, "And he didn't get mad?"

"Oh, he knew we'd done something underhanded," he put the glass away before leaning his hip against the counter, "but since we were insisting he keep it himself and none of us had technically given it to him, there was no crossing of lines. Toeing of them, certainly, but no crossing." Scorpius glanced out the window, eyebrows quirking up, "I was honestly surprised that he actually ended up wearing it. And he cleans it, so – in the end – we should have just said something about the state of his garments after cooking for all the effort it saved."

Rose offered, "But he does look very dapper in it."

"That he does."

They smiled at each other for a long moment in the sunlight. Then he straightened and started toward the doorway, "Let's go find out what we can about your car. I'm sure you don't want it left out much longer and we can get your bags." Rose blinked at him before recalling that she had, in fact, left her grandfather's car out in the storm last night. Scorpius called over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the foyer after I change." With that he was gone, padding quietly down the hall toward the stairs.

She tried to cling to the sense of warmth that had filled her in the past few minutes by wiping down the counter with the small towel. There wasn't much to clean (Skilt kept a very tidy kitchen) except a few water droplets around the sink, but she went over all the counters and the island anyway. Last was the table. Her attention kept drifting to the folded newspaper she was carefully wiping around. There really was nothing else for it. Rip the band-aid off and all that.

Straightening, she clenched her left hand around the hand towel like a lifeline as the other reached out to flip the Prophet open. She found the article and noted the placement – like he was less important than the Lifestyle section. Deep breath and relax grip on the towel. Skimming the article was both horrifying and liberating. She was glad her mother had submitted it and it was well written, succinct yet the proper amount of pleading. It was a physical validation of the chaos.

Rose's gaze finally committed to the picture, watching her grandfather brandish the sparking feather duster like a prize-winning pet. He'd been so proud that day. She peered closer and a fond smile touched her lips as she spotted the forming bruise above his eyebrow. That feather duster had been lively before Grandpa had 'expertly subdued it.' That's what the Prophet had described, at least. On the fifth page at the top.

And 'Missing Ministry Official' barely registered as better.

Clenching her jaw, Rose tried to close the paper gently, hiding her grandfather's beaming face from view once more.

As she moved back toward the counter, she carefully folded the hand towel. Placed next to the sink, Rose left her fingers on the damp fabric, staring down at it as she kept picturing that brandished feather duster on loop behind her eyes. Closing them, she took a slow breath and cleared it all away. She had a little bit of time to step back. She'd stay here at the manor until school started.

By now her mother had no doubt found the letter. Hopefully she would keep Rose's hideout a secret since she knew her daughter was safe. Otherwise...the reprieve would be short-lived. If she kept it a secret, Rose would get herself settled and she'd do what her parents had kept insisting – let the adults find out what happened. If her grandpa was still missing after school started...Rose would start her own investigation, with parental blessing or not.

With a small nod to herself, Rose patted the towel absently and turned to make her way out toward the foyer.