Edited, December 2017.
The summer before seventh year…
Rose Weasley sat in the lush summer garden of the burrow beneath a beach tree. Her toes were buried in the soft grass, a book resting in her lap as she revelled in the first peace and quiet the Burrow had offered all summer.
Almost everyone was at work or out for the day, so Rose had taken the oppourtunity to relax for a while. Without fear of being pelted at by jinked water balloons that could pop and reform repeatedly or worse; get dunked head first into the pond. The rarity of such tranquillity on the Elder Weasley property was virtually unheard of, so Rose intended to soak up the sun's rays in peace for as long as possible.
She'd lost track of how far the sun had moved in the sky as she sat there. It must have been hours. Her and her grandparents had enjoyed a relaxing brunch in the front garden with pastries and fresh fruit amongst the honeysuckle as the chickens had clucked and pecked near their bare ankles. The day had been hot with a pleasant breeze that ruffled the pages of her book once in a while.
A clatter echoed from the open patio door. Rose didn't look up to inspect the commotion immediately, instead she shifted further into the nook in the beach tree, refocusing on the words in front of her. She scrunched her feet into the grass, as if it anchored her to her fictional escape more securely. She tried not to give the noise much thought.
Another sound of pots crashing against each other carried on the breeze across the garden.
Molly Weasley never made such a racket when in the kitchen. She frowned in an attempt to aid her concentration, yet now she was distracted she couldn't continue reading. She had to investigate.
Closing her book she pushed herself up on the trunk of the tree and slipped on her sandals. She immediately felt eyes on her.
Through the kitchen window a pair of horn-rimmed, bespectacled eyes stared back. A shock of dirty blond hair made the culprit of the noise no longer a mystery. He blinked under her watchful look before continuing what looked like ransacking her grandmother's kitchen.
Rose huffed. Of course he was here. It was Albus' birthday tomorrow after all. Crossing the lawn to the open door, she instinctively tugged down her summer shorts aware of how much skin she had on show. She thought for a fleeting moment of Elliot and the nail marks that had been left on her creamy thighs the day after they'd fucked in the changing rooms. The thought made her throat dry. It also made her wish firewhiskey had never been invented. She tugged on the denim again, self-conscious. She was grateful right now, hovering outside the open back door that those marks hadn't made more permeant punctures on her legs.
"Red, do you know where I'd find a whisk?" His voice sounded pained, floating through the open door.
She crossed the threshold, pushing past the door leaving it open so the summer breeze could fill the room.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, blatantly ignoring his question. Her eyes darted around the room hopeful that her grandfather was hiding behind one of the sofas.
"They're all out til late, so Mr Weasley told me." Scorpius continued to open cupboards at random leaving half of them open in his wake. Rose leant to close the one nearest her.
"Red? The whisk?"
"Where is grandad?" she asked again.
"He's out there," he gestured towards the front garden, "with your Gran. They were all cosied up near the chicken coup so they told me to come in and get cracking!" He began pulling wooden spoons out of draws and a mixing bowl from the shelf beneath the table top. "Besides I didn't want to watch." He added cheekily, waggling his eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes.
She felt disgruntled with him here in the Weasley's kitchen without any other family present. "Get cracking with what? And did he say when everyone would be back?" She dismissed his eyebrows which were for some reason still wiggling. She was very aware that within Ottery St Catchpole in that moment, there might only be four magical folk. And two of them were currently stood in the Weasley's kitchen. This made her uncomfortable. She was used to being surrounded by family here, but Malfoy was an unprecedented addition without Albus by his side.
This time he appeared to disregard her question. His arms disappeared into the fridge grasping what Rose could only assume were ingredients and began stacking them in a small pile on the slanted work surface.
"I think he said something like a few hours…be back for tea later tonight the lot of them. Albus' birthday tomorrow so the whole family is heading over considering tomorrow is Saturd- AHA!" He began tugging at something under the sink, his arm struggling to reach the back of a cupboard.
Rose grinned smugly while watching him struggle. She took out her wand from her back pocket and summoned what she assumed was the whisk he was evidently trying to grab finally.
"Hey!" He caught it deftly before it flew into Rose's outstretched hand, "I could have done that, Red."
"But you didn't," she said, trying not to smirk herself as he turned to face her.
She was aware that Scorpius' seventeenth birthday had already been. Her and Jasmine had been invited to the party, both declining to instead spend the evening completing a three-foot charms essay. For the ninety-seven percent mark Rose received she didn't think she could have missed out on that much. It did seem odd to her why he hadn't thought to use magic now he was of age. She knew better than most he was quite capable of wandwork whether he admitted it to everyone else or not.
Against her better judgement (her curiosity getting the better of her as always) she hopped onto the counter top opposite him. Still feeling a slight sense of unease, she took advantage of his back being turned to her to take a proper look at him.
Sometimes Rose wondered how he was let out of his house in the summer wearing such an odd assortment of clothes. This was when compared to his attire at school where his shoes were the shiniest thing in sight; his overall appearance generally impeccable. Everything he was wearing today looked incredibly mismatched and scruffy. He'd donned a faded tshirt that she assumed had been picked out of a muggle charity shop. It bore a name she could barely make out due to peeling letters and beneath it a demonic woman appeared to be screaming her lungs out. Choosing to pair this with denim shorts that looked cut off at home (probably by himself or Albus) and plimsoles. His ridiculously muggle attire made something unwittingly tighten in her gut.
She assumed this feeling was fear that Albus might jump out any second and pour a bag of flour over her head, laughing as he went. That wouldn't at all surprise her. It was the fact that a small part of her found his appearance endearing. A pureblood boy trying to blend in with the Weasleys. Like hell she would ever say that out loud, though. He was still Scorpius Malfoy after all.
"What exactly are you doing destroying my grandparent's kitchen?" She inquired, unable to keep a taunting edge out of her voice. Years of built up mistrust spurring her on. His back stiffened as he rotated to face her, elbows propped on the counter top.
"As it happens," he paused for dramatic effect, lowering his eyes at her, "I'm making a cake for Al's birthday."
Rose almost slipped off the side in surprise. "I'm sorry?"
"A cake," he repeated, still not taking out his own wand, instead tugging a brass scale from the window sill along with some rusted weights. "It's something delicious that people have at weddings, birthdays... perhaps even if one procured a seat on the Wizengamot one might celebrate with a cake."
Rose snorted. He glanced at her before lifting his glasses up on top of his head taking most of his blond fringe with them.
"Since when can you bake a cake? Where's your wand, Malfoy?" She asked incredulously. Rose knew how talented Malfoy was at most things, there was no way he was an accomplished baker to boot.
He shook his head violently, "never got the hang of those cooking spells and have never had the chance to practice those at home. Christ, do you know where I live?!" She bit her tongue guiltily.
"Also," he rounded on her, wooden spoon brandishing with every syllable, "why are you here? You normally try to avoid me at all costs?" The wooden spoon now pointed accusatorially between her eyes. She used her hand to push it away.
"No I don't," she said defensively. "This is my grandparent's house you know." She added a little sheepishly. Feeling slightly awkward at the allegation, although not entirely untrue she still felt indignant when Scorpius brought it up himself.
He was doing that thing again. Staring. Only this time they were stood rather close and she could see his green eyes wary behind the glass of his spectacles that had fallen back onto his nose.
Another knot began to twist deep in her belly as neither of them motioned to move. It felt odd standing with each other and not completely dreading or trying to avoid his company. So far he hadn't thrown any flour at her. That was better than she had normally come to expect.
"You looked pretty comfortable reading outside," he said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.
Rose bristled instantly, "you were the one making a racket! I had to come investigate; especially seeing as most of my family is supposed to be out of Ottery this afternoon. My grandmother doesn't make a fraction of the noise you do in the kitchen!" She finished, breathing a little sharply after her tirade.
Not even a blind man could have missed the smile that grew on Scorpius' face as she spoke. It lit up his face in the most beautiful way as he looked at her almost adoringly. All too soon, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes and Rose had to fight the urge to take a step back in fear. The sack of flour was awfully close to his hand on the counter.
"Ok, Red. How about we put aside our differences and you help me with this. I plan on four tiers minimum," he said, smiling down at her still. It was a genuine thing that made her heart swoop. It shouldn't be making her heart swoop. Certainly not the smile of Scorpius-best friend of Albus Potter-prankster extraordinaire- surfer dude- hornrimmed bespectacled-Malfoy.
Rose felt a rush of insecurity and overwhelming curiosity all at once. It almost made her feel lightheaded, her toes even began to tingle. Would hanging out with Malfoy be all that terrible? On the surface at least, he seemed to be behaving himself without Albus around. Rose blamed his ludicrous attire for making him appear much more harmless that usual. I can't honestly believe that Malfoy knows how to bake. It was settled; she wanted to witness this first hand. she would however, keep her wand at the ready if she was potentially ambushed later on.
She tugged her unruly hair into a loose bun, threading her wand through the centre for safe keeping. "Where do we start?"
"Yo-you're actually staying?" Malfoy spluttered in disbelief.
She glowered at him briefly, although it possessed only a hint of her usual derision.
"You suggested it."
"Well..."
"I'm more staying to bear witness, because a part of me just can't quite believe that you know how to bake a cake from scratch," she confessed, moving the ingredients around to make room on the work surface.
"Cheers for the vote of confidence, Red." He said, although there was obvious humour in his voice.
Rose would argue later, if anyone questioned it, that she fought valiantly to not enjoy Scorpius' company. It was about twenty minutes in when she was sifting flour and laughing heartily at something he said about her Uncle Harry that the realisation dawned on her that Scorpius (when he wanted to be) could be friendly. Others would say charming; Rose would refuse this description.
Scorpius measured ingredients with a proficiency and hand that she had seen before in potions. Something he excelled at practically, without much consideration for the 20 inch essay on the compound uses of beetle eyes that normally came along with it. He began melting a whole block of butter in a saucepan, before striding off into the depths of the pantry. Rose continued to stir the butter on the stove, breathing in the savoury aroma deeply.
He came back out arms laden with a dozen carrots.
Tossing them haphazardly into a bowl, he began grating the first unfortunate vegetable vigorously, "The key ingredient!"
"Why all this butter then? I thought the mix was already finished?" Rose mused, having followed Scorpius' instructions up til now without question. Hesitancy had given way to acceptance exceptionally quickly.
"That, Red is for the butter icing!" He nudged his hip into hers enthusiastically. Rose jolted giggling, knocking over the bag of icing sugar so a cloud of the lightest powder covered both of them.
"Careful!"
"Sorry!"
"No, it's just -" he looked at her then, locking eyes for barely a moment longer than necessary. He drew his eyes away and coughed into his shoulder, rubbing icing sugar off his cheek as he did so. "We will need all of that. Your gran only had the one packet back there." Scorpius glanced over his shoulder briefly, eyes flitting from the pantry to the door out into the front garden.
Rose couldn't help herself, she spoke so suddenly she nearly choked on the air still coated with icing sugar, "you're forgetting Gamp's Law." She avoided his gaze pointedly, aware she sounded like a complete know it all. To her surprise Scorpius replied quite eloquently, seeming to ignore her potentially patronising comment.
"I think you'll find Miss Weasley that so long as you don't cover us with the whole bag we can replicate it; should we need more."
He continued to focus on grating the carrots, apparently sensing and evading her forthcoming question.
"Are you taking the mickey?" She asked, a little wary of how he might answer.
"Not at all."
Rose leant an elbow on the side next to him, gazing up at his face; him clearly trying not to laugh. His nonchalance was starting to irk her, like a familiar itch she continued to scratch.
"Why don't you try in lessons?" she demanded, suddenly.
The words tumbled out, as so many before them, before she even had a chance to stop them rolling off her tongue. Only this time she didn't regret it at all. She genuinely wanted to know this about him. She surprised herself, not intending to ever appear air-headed around Scorpius.
He stopped what he was doing, dropping the items into the bowl. He looked longingly out of the window, at something beyond the hedgerow. Instead of following his gaze she stared unwavering and questioning at the side of his face - sharp angled features in profile.
"Can't a man be mysterious these days?" His voice was vacant.
Rose rolled her eyes, going back to work. Scorpius Malfoy take anything seriously; that would be the day! "I don't know why you don't. You're clearly quite capable."
"Because I can bake a cake?"
"No." She exclaimed, "Because you are far more capable than pranks and cooking. You're so contrived it's absurd!" Rose huffed, folding her arms over her chest.
A flash of concern swept across his face, "you think I'm pretending to care less?"
"Aren't you?" She couldn't meet his eyes then. This was easily the most probing and intimate conversation they had ever had. Scorpius seemed as surprised as she did - her initially soft tone, his eyes wide behind the glass of his spectacles - aware that this sort of deep and meaningful conversation had never passed between them.
She held his gaze resolutely. After a while he began fidgeting under her stare, apparently slightly uncomfortable when the tables were turned and she was staring him down unabashed and questioning.
He wiped his hands on a tea towel before rubbing them under his eyes, suddenly looking weary. "Red, isn't it a little late for the lecture? We're in our final year when we go back."
"So?" She exclaimed petulantly, tapping her foot on the stone floor. "Imagine how well you could do academically if you just applied yourself? How much you could learn and evolve?"
Scorpius sighed plaintively, "Whatever gave you the impression that I wanted to?"
In a funny way, Rose wasn't entirely surprised. So much of Scorpius' character was based on spontaneity and charisma and positivity. Never had he once shown any need to be the brightest in the room or correct someone when they were wrong (on the exception of whenever anyone called him out on being a Malfoy who's friends with a Potter). He coasted through on charm and enough effort to reward him enough so he could retain the deceptive veil of "average".
"So…" she began, although pre-empting the answer immediately, "you don't want to have a good job or-"
"One day maybe. But I'm a wizard." He stated this as if she should know what he meant. Upon seeing Rose's blank look he waved his hand in acceptance of elaboration.
"My – our – life expectancy when I last checked is probably one hundred and seventeen, give or take a few years. That's also providing I don't take up smoking knotgrass anytime soon." Rose snorted lightly again.
"I plan on travelling. Maybe see a fraction of the world, maybe play in the local Quidditch League if they'll have me."
A small smile blossomed on Rose's face despite herself. Of course, the great plans of Scorpius Malfoy were just as humble as he was himself (still annoying when he wants to be, she reminded herself with less and less conviction).
"And if you need a proper wizarding job?" she teased, "you'll need to show you have N.E.W.T.s."
"See Red, to an extent this might be true. But our world, like the muggle world is still corrupt," he began greasing a baking tray, "maybe not in the same way it was twenty years ago but who you know is still important." He said the last sentence bitterly while using his fingers to messily rub butter around the edges of the tin. He drew in a long slow breath, his shoulders sagging.
"And sadly, my father still has enough connections to get me a low paid ministry position, even if I go off grid for a while."
She looked at him. Surprised that he spoke with such sullenness about his father, although she didn't doubt there would have been some people who gave him a hard time when he was first admitted to Hogwarts. She'd heard ripples of how the Malfoy's mostly kept to themselves, but money keeps you popular even if you're exiled through politics it would seem. Rose pulled another tray towards her.
"Education was never something I treasured. It was more a means to an end. You on the other hand-" he leaned down so their heads were level. Rose had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from locking eyes with him, drawing their faces together. "- a passionate Ravenclaw; shoe in for Head Girl. Your love of knowledge and academics is part of your being. I see you being a great success."
Scorpius crowding her personal space was making her head fuzzy. She sat down the tin, walking over to the fridge and retrieved a jug of lemonade. Any excuse to make some distance between them – her neck felt hot from his closeness. Sometimes, she wondered, if he manoeuvred that way around her on purpose. This thought forced out her reply, "so you're using your father's money and influence? Doesn't that feel…I don't know."
"I have my own savings. I won't have to use my father's money," he said this a little proudly but Rose thought nothing of it. "Might have to borrow his roof from time to time but the manor is so big he mightn't even notice."
Scorpius was back to concentrating on the tray in his hands. His brow furrowed as he worked efficiently with his hands. Not able to think of anything clever to say Rose merely hummed. Scorpius shot her a sideways glance over his shoulder as she grabbed the cake mixture and began pouring it into the tins.
They continued in palpable silence, each stewing on their own thoughts, including the conversation that had just transpired. Rose was beginning to admit that perhaps Scorpius had picked up on a few things about her, having spent lengthy periods in her vicinity over long British summers. One thing she remained careful of, was to acutely avoid any grazing of their limbs as they tidied and cleaned.
Scorpius frequently checked on the tins haphazardly stacked in the oven. Rose turned on the tap, adding soap to the metal sink, soaking a few of the utensils. Grabbing a cloth she began scrubbing.
"You're washing those pots by hand y'know?"
"I know."
A beat of understanding passed between them. A peaceful hum followed as the oven whirred alongside the melody of the birds and bees in the garden. The air was thick with wafts of a carrot cake smell spouting from the oven vent.
It took the two teenagers another hour to build the monstrosity that was to become their masterpiece. Three tiers of thick, dark chestnut coloured sponge layered with light lemon butter icing stood before them. Mrs Weasley had made a brief appearance, her wrinkled skin looking as a red a beetroot from being in the sun all day. She was profusely delighted with their creation as she beckoned Rose's Grandfather in to also take a look at their handiwork. Arthur Weasley had given the two teenagers a look somewhere between apprehension and surprise, considering they didn't exactly work together on a regular basis; this was to be expected. Rose's Grandparents made their excuses to pop up to their bedroom for a nap, leaving Scorpius to provide a rather lewd suggestion about what they might be up to. Rose whacking him round the head with a tea towel shut him up about it.
"So…" said Rose, tearing her eyes away from where her Grandparents had disappeared up the stairs.
"Sooooooooooo?" repeated Scorpius in a singsong voice. He was clearly having far too good a time.
"Are we adding this other tier or what?"
"That's for us," said Scorpius, grabbing a plate and smearing a generous helping of the icing over the sponge cake before him. Slicing it into six huge pieces.
Rose had a moment of realisation, "I just thought-"
"Careful now."
Rose shot him a withering look, "this cake will never feed my family!" she gestured at the three-tiered cake, that might have fed a small office party, but certainly not a Weasley get-together.
Scorpius shrugged, taking a huge bite out of the slice he'd been goggling at, "Your Grandmutrhe can enlarge eits!" He exclaimed trying to keep his almost overflowing mouth closed as he continued to chew.
"Then what was the point in making it in the first place?" Rose burst out, eying her own enormous slice with unease.
Scorpius made a show of swallowing before looking at her square in the face.
"It was fun."
For a moment, Rose looked at him blankly. She took in the sunlight transforming his hair to molten brass, his spectacles on the end of his nose spotted with flour and a squirming began in the pit of her stomach. His positively charming appearance in those muggle clothes, combined with the jaunty smile he was giving her almost made her head spin. What is going on? She thought, unable to tear her eyes away. Her mind had gone completely blank and she wasn't sure why. The shared silence charged with static. In sheer panic, Rose took a huge bite of the cake in her hand. Possibly too big a bite as she had to stick out her tongue to lick her lips free of icing. Without meaning to sound so impressed, she moaned lightly at the utter deliciousness of the cake, distracted (and impressed) by their work under Scorpius' instruction. Closing her eyes in enjoyment she took another bite hastily.
As usual she could feel Scorpius' eyes on her. She opened one of her own to observe him - as she'd expected - he was staring at her. Only he didn't have a small smile like he'd had a moment before. Instead his lips were parted slightly, his eyes looked almost glazed over as he watched her. He looked about three sheets to the wind. He swallowed, shaking his head, coughing.
"Good cake, eh?" he said hoarsely.
"Mmmmm," was all Rose could manage without spraying a mouthful of crumbs all over him.
Scorpius eyes suddenly lit up in surprise, "hold on, I've got something upstairs I need to grab. Could you put the cake in the pantry? I'll be right back." With that he bounded off up the stairs and out of sight, his footfall suggesting he was taking the stairs two at a time until they grew faint as he reached the third floor and continued to climb. Albus' room at The Burrow during the summer was her father's old room at the top of the house.
Rose busied herself by stacking the cake in the chilliest corner of the pantry, casting a simple anti-aging charm it.
The sound of the front door being flung open caused her to jolt, the sound of bodies flooding through the front door heard from where she stood deep in the pantry, jostling one another around the furniture.
"Albus, do not put your feet on the furniture!"
"They're new shoes mum, I've not even worn them in! Lily get off me!"
"So good to see you Harry, dear. Long trip was it?"
"Mum, I need something out of that bag?"
"Can you not use your arms Lily, you do have two of them."
"You would do it for James."
"Lily, don't talk to your mother like that."
Rose couldn't help the smile blossoming on her face as she stepped out to witness the wildness and chaos that was the Potters.
"ROSIE!" Lily threw herself at the older girl, her arms squeezing her around the middle.
"Hi Lil, good holiday?"
"Oh it was brilliant!" Lily said, her voice muffled against Rose's shoulder. As Lily drew away Rose saw the bright glossy look in her eyes as she lowered her voice excitedly, "I met the most wonderful boy!" Rose fought not to roll her eyes at her cousin's foolishness.
"Yeah, really bloody wonderful chap. Wanting to take a fifteen-year-old on his muggle motorbike," said Albus morosely from his position lounged out on one of the sofas languidly. Albus waved a lazy hand in Rose's general direction without sitting up.
The sounds off tread down the stairs arrested Albus' aloofness, as he sat up watching the stairs expectantly. As Scorpius appeared the other boy flung himself at him, embracing him like a long-lost brother.
"Whoa, mate! Try not to strangle me!" Scorpius eyed Rose over Albus' shoulder panicked his eyes flickering towards the spot on the counter top where the cake had sat only moments before. She smiled genuinely at him, shrugging and he beamed at her. He tried to prize himself away from Albus' vice like grip.
Albus grasped Scorpius' upper arms as he pulled away gentle shaking him, "I think I nearly went mad this summer, mate."
"I can tell," said Scorpius without missing a beat.
Albus ignored him, "C'mon, I've got some Quidditch stuff I wanted to show you I got last month."
"Hello Scorpius," greeted her Uncle, extending a hand out to Scorpius who was being dragged away by Albus with the other.
"Good afternoon, Mr Potter. I trust you had a great summer…" but before Scorpius could promote any more courtesy to his best friend's father, he was man handled up the stairs by an almost manic looking Albus. His apologies drowned out by the influx of greetings and questions of Mr and Mrs Weasley following their daughter into the kitchen.
Beside her Lily wrinkled her nose, "I just don't get those two."
Rose took a moment of peace in Lily's statement. Mulling it over before the rest of the family descended or she was questioned about her inability to carry Lily's conversation forward. Rose contemplated for a moment explaining to Lily how she had just spent her afternoon with Scorpius Malfoy and how it hadn't been torturous at all. On the contrary, it had been exceptionally enjoyable. She remained stood beside Lily, staring at the spot the two boys had disappeared wondering if Scorpius knew her better than Albus did these days.
The party had been raucous. The whole family crushed onto a huge table in the garden, weighed down by plates and plates of food. Her mother had drank too much port too early on in the afternoon and had to go for a lie down, her father and uncle George had proceeded to drink the rest of it and danced on chairs to the Cornish Pixies on and off until the early hours of the morning. Somehow someone had set off some enchanted fireworks from the W.W.W. family shop without burning down the Burrow or setting fire to themselves.
Rose had been having a rather pleasant conversation with the Scamander twins when they'd taken a bite in unison of some odd looking quiche and their hair proceeded to turn a violent shade of green, along with a rapid growth in their nose hair; it made them impossible to tell apart. Scorpius and Albus, the most likely culprits, had fallen about laughing while clutching individual bottles of elderberry wine. The tortured looks on the Scamander's faces had earned both Scorpius and Albus high fives from her Uncle George and to Rose's utter shock a pat on the back from her father. Although the conversation had been waning, Rose remained perturbed by the interruption. She didn't however attempt to help the twins as they struggled under the growing weight of their nose hair as they pushed their way into the house to find an antidote. Or an adult that might have taken their predicament a bit more seriously.
The moment that shortly proceeded turned out to be Rose's highlight of the evening. As dusk fell around them and jars containing live fairies lit up the garden, Mrs Weasley had called them all back around the table for Albus to cut his birthday cake. At some point, someone had indeed enlarged the cake like Scorpius had suggested so it was four times the size that he and Rose had constructed. It remained identical in design accept for the addition of seventeen bright blue candles arranged on the topmost iced layer.
As the candles were lit, Rose's gaze instinctively found Scorpius' and she wasn't at all surprised to see him already watching her his mouth upturned in a half smile. She returned her own valiantly having drank almost a bottle of elderberry wine between then and the Scamander's misfortune. Instead of feeling chilly in the evening summer breeze she felt blanketed by a warming layer of fuzziness she always associated with alcohol. Rose made a point of giving him a small thumbs up to which he responded with a mock bow behind Albus' back.
Having blown out his candles, Albus proceeded to inhale his portion, slapping his friend on the back in gratitude. Rose would have seen this if she hadn't been whisked away by her inebriated father to check on her mother. She knew that Albus would never have believed them if they'd said they had made it together anyway. But why, in that moment, she wasn't entirely sure.
A week passed before Rose visited the Burrow again. She arrived one humid, overcast day around breakfast time. Greeted with a disgruntled looking Mr Weasley who said a hurried goodbye before bustling past her and down the garden path.
"Morning dear!" cried Mrs Weasley, charming what looked like two dozen eggs to whisk themselves in a mixing bowl. "Would you like any breakfast, Rosie?"
"Morning! I'm ok thanks, had something before I left." Rose sat herself at the kitchen table and instead poured herself some juice from a brass jug.
"Hmmmm," mused Mrs Weasley, coming to comb Rose's hair away from her eyes affectionately, looking into them curiously.
"I hope your mum has time to feed you both with her new job," frowned Mrs Weasley, tucking a lock of hair behind Rose's ear. She flushed at the affectionate gesture, feeling much younger than she actually was.
"Of course she does. And I can look after myself you know Nan!" said Rose, trying to bite down on her petulant tone.
"Well of course, dear. I just worry. I'm entitled to that now aren't I?" Mrs Weasley smiled good naturedly down at her granddaughter while behind her rashers of bacon dove into a frying pan of their own accord.
"Where is everyone?"
"Oh you know, teenage boys tend to sleep the days away half the time! It wasn't like that when I was a child," said Mrs Weasley, although her judgemental toned seemed forced.
Rose felt a twist of anxiety, she thought Molly or at least Lily would be there.
"This could well do it." As she said it, Mrs Weasley opened the door leading up the slanted staircase, allowing the scent of cooked breakfast to waft to the floors above. Officially feeling slightly outnumbered, Rose considered making an excuse to leave. It wasn't likely she would be easily welcomed in whatever plans Albus and Scorpius might have together if Scorpius was indeed still staying. She had also been looking forward to taking a day away from the academic books in favour of a dip in the pond or a walk around Ottery St Catchpole – to maybe even have a drink in the village pub. Rose had spent many of the days at home going over notes from fifth and sixth year and reading ahead to try to grasp the new material early. Rose did indeed love being studious, but even the most devoted bookworms needed to let their hair down.
The usual muffled footfalls began four floors above as the kettle began to whistle shrilly. Rose's attention however was on the kitchen window, through which a large Balsas screech owl was soaring towards the window carrying a stack of letters tied together to one of it's legs. She recognised it as one of the Hogwarts correspondence birds – a more regal bird than most student bought varieties – clearly bringing with it their book lists. Rose scurried eagerly to the window, pushing it further open. The owl soared in, it's wings wide enough to cause her hair to swirl around her face in it's wake. It landed with a considerable thud on the kitchen table before it began hopping around; one leg still attached to the string holding the letters together.
Mrs Weasley muttered a severing charm, while holding out a single rasher for the bird on the end of a large fork. It swept across the room, grabbing the meat in it's beak before vanishing out of the window just as Albus and Scorpius bounded into the kitchen. They were shortly followed by Rose's brother and a hungover looking Fred and James.
"Morning!" The rabble mumbled in various states of lethargy.
Rose, who had been hovering beside the pile of letters shuffled through them, all the while knowing hers would be on the bottom. The ceremony of this action wasn't lost on James who snatched the pile out of Rose's hand and began announcing to the room the letters recipients.
"The delightful chap, Lord Scorpius Malfoy!" Scorpius took the envelope with a quiet grunt as he poured himself a glass of juice.
Hugo shuffled groggily to sit beside her, "morning sis. Didn't know you were coming."
"I wasn't originally, I just fancied a trip away from the books," she shrugged as coolly as she could but she felt a few pairs of eyes on her. James, it appeared had not noticed the mildly out of character statement.
"Master Albus Potter-"
"That's Mister now, Jimmy. I'm of age remember?"
"Correction then! Mister Albus Potter," he flourished the letter in front of Albus' face.
"Jimmy, do you seriously have to announce that so loud?" groaned Fred, his head held delicately in his hands.
"Ceremonial isn't it Freddie? Last chance I'll get to mock these whippers for being ickle students!"
Rose raised an eyebrow, "James, you literally graduated two months ago. I don't think-"
"Aha!" He pointed at the envelope in her hand, causing Rose to clutch the letter closer to her chest as an instinctive form of protection. "There is a bulge in that envelope!"
Her brother sniggered, while Fred let out a snort towards the table's surface. Both Albus and Scorpius had stopped dead. Scorpius with a glass of juice to his lips and Albus having just unfurled his book list, now slack in his hand.
Rose flushed furiously, turning over the envelope to witness the badge shaped welt under the parchment. The bottom dropped out of her stomach at the sight of it.
"Well open it then!" cried James. "NAN! ROSIE'S GOT HEAD GIRL!"
"Jimmy, mate. Seriously. Tone it down would you?" begged Fred. James ignored him.
Mrs Weasley appeared as if out of thin air beside her brother's chair looking harassed with bright eyes.
Rose bit her lip, "you don't know that James," she said timidly, despite herself. Her heartrate was through the roof and her back was hot against her light summer jacket. She shifted it off her shoulders onto the back of her chair. This didn't help as much as she'd hoped.
"Oh for goodness sake, open it dear!" Her gran coaxed, eyes turning beady like a magpie spotting something shiny.
Tentatively, with the whole room watching her, Rose opened the envelope, inverting it to let the metal shield fall onto her sweaty hand. The intimidating letters H.G. shone brightly against a sapphire background.
"Oh," Rose breathed, all the air leaving her lungs. A hand whacked her back causing her to lurch over the table.
"Congrats sis! You'll want to write to mum and dad. You know they'll be upset if they hear this news from someone else!" Hugo, who towered over her just like her father patted her on the back again with awakened vigour.
Mrs Weasley pulled her into a bone crushing hug, "well done dear, you should be proud."
"Yeah," said Rose distantly. She stared down at the badge in her hand, blinking as if trying to wake up from a dream.
Albus slowly rose from his seat to manoeuvre around the table. He gingerly took the badge out of her hand to inspect it more closely.
"Yeah. Figures. Well done, Rose. Go easy on us this year then won't you," said Albus offering her a crooked grin and a brief one-armed hug once Mrs Weasley had relinquished her grip. As Albus made his way back around the table she caught Scorpius' eye. If she hadn't half expected it she might have missed the minute wink he gave her, mouthing I bloody knew it, a knowing smirk playing around his mouth. The squirming in the pit of her stomach then was definitely from dread and anticipation.
She glanced away from his stare again. Returning her attention to the badge in her hand, she turned it over a few times noticing the bent pin at the back; no doubt wear and tear from it's previous owners. Rose wasn't entirely sure why it felt so out of place. She knew she was a good student, yes. But did she excel in everything? Get extra credit in all her assignments and subjects? No. No she didn't. Yes her academics were her strong suit, along with a penchant for the rules but did that make her Head Girl material?
Being a Head Girl meant you showed strength and determination. It showed you could think on your feet. It meant she could provide a face for populism, should adhere to the rules strictly herself while being a beacon of good reputation in the eyes of the rest of the school and staff.
She honestly hadn't even considered the possibility of being given the Head Girl position. If she had, she would have spent the summer planning and note taking. Ideas for what she could do to contribute to the school as a whole and what sort of legacy (if any) she wanted to leave behind.
After sometime, as the boys were tucking into their breakfast she said faintly, "there must have been a mistake."
From across the table she saw Albus make an exaggerated eye roll.
"Don't be so modest Rose. It can get annoying you know." He said this with such conviction that it appeared to be the end of the matter. Both James and Fred nodded in agreement; their mouths too full to speak.
"Let's be honest," Albus began, giving her a meaningful look, "you'll make a great Head Girl. Now stop being dense and tell your parents the good news. It can't be that pleasant watching five teenage boys eat breakfast."
By lunchtime, Rose was more settled with the idea.
Head Girl.
Perhaps she had been groomed for it in her extra Alchemy classes with Slughorn or the tutoring McGonagall had asked of her for the last three years. If there was one thing she had inherited from her mother, it was constant deliberation. So, Rose being her mother's daughter had written a quick note to both her parents later that morning and had begun planning for her future year ahead soon after. With the added consideration of her newly found responsibility. It rested like a lead weight on her shoulders but a part of her was beginning to feel she could accomplish great things. It was a miracle what a few mugs of tea, a few rolls of parchment and a well-timed wink could instil within a person. From her initial insecurities, Rose had turned rational in pursuit of excelling in her newly appointed role.
She had not been expecting a letter from the Head Boy so soon after her own letter had arrived. The boys had ventured into the village to bask in their fading freedom, so there was no one to witness the second, non-family owl flutter in through the kitchen window.
The bird nipped at her irritably. She gave it a treat from a box beneath the sink and unfurled the small scroll.
Hi Rose,
Someone told me you got Head Girl. Snap. Well, almost. I was given Head Boy! I wondered if you would be able to meet for a chat in Diagon Alley this week, maybe?
Send a reply with Ventus if you can.
Best,
Elliot
It took everything out of Rose not to crumple the letter in frustration. Just as she was getting accustomed to the idea of being Head Girl, a Hufflepuff bloke shaped spanner had to get stuck in the works.
That Rose was feeling apprehensive was an understatement. As she sat outside Florean's she fiddled with the label on her pink lemonade, tracing the condensation droplets with her finger. Relishing the ice-cold liquid against her fingertips.
She wasn't entirely sure why she had agreed to come. It had been a polite request, she reasoned and not a demand from her soon to be fellow Head. That had merit in itself. At least he didn't think she owed him anything. Certainly, if he had she would have replied with an aptly sent Howler.
Her heart was racing. But not for the reasons it might when a young woman meets up with a bloke she's had a previous sexual encounter with. Not one that is handsome and quite evidently smart; a great catch in another universe. She certainly hadn't bargained on Elliot Rhodes becoming Head Boy. There were at least two alternative candidates that came to mind. Although, perhaps some indiscretions had past that Rose hadn't been made privy to. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, she thought to herself.
A figure loomed over her table blocking the dazzling sunshine that was pouring over the terraces of Diagon Alley. Squinting against the glare, Elliot Rhodes came into focus. When she caught his eye, he looked away awkwardly.
"Hi." He said, grasping the top of the chair opposite her.
"Hi," she returned not unkindly.
He seemed to be extremely interested in something over Rose's right shoulder, she recognised his hesitance. It wasn't unwelcome, although her patience was already tested with him being late to a meeting that he wanted to arrange.
"Can I sit down?"
"I don't know. Ma-" she stopped herself short. Her mouth becoming dry as she saw a cheeky grin and tawny hair flash in her mind.
Shaking her head to compose herself, "sorry, yes. Please do sit down."
Taking out the chair, he sat across from her. As he grabbed the nearest menu, Rose took his moment of distraction to observe his features more closely.
His skin was tanned, most probably from having taken a trip abroad over the summer already. A plain mauve shirt accentuated the tan considerably and Rose wondered (if only for a moment) whether this had been done on purpose. The boy closed the menu with a snap and beckoned the nearest waitress. Rose bristled a little at his treatment of the staff, but the girl bounded over to their table expectantly, pad of paper and pencil poised instantly.
"Yes sir, madame." The young girl nodded to each of them in turn. "What can I get you?"
Elliot grinned, "mint choc-chip for me, and you Rose?"
"Erm...honeycomb. Single scoop, please."
The girl nodded, her pencil skittering along the paper, "and drinks?"
Rose shook her head.
"Whatever the ladie's got looks lovely."
"Another pink lemonade. Great! I'll be back shortly with your order." And as eagerly as she'd arrived, she was gone. Disappearing into the shop.
Stealing another look at the guy opposite her, Rose noticed he was still avoiding her gaze.
"How was your summer?" Rose asked, breaking the silence.
"Oh, it was very good actually. Went to Morocco with the family, visited elderly relatives, you know how it is," he smiled a little. She waited for the assumed question "how about yours?" but it never came. Biting her lip, a sudden surge to leave enveloped her that she would have succumbed to had she not already ordered some ice cream.
"Congratulations on getting Head Boy," she said, genuinely trying to make small talk. At her words his demeanour suddenly flipped. He sat up straight in his chair, puffed out his chest like a proud Hippogriff and a mildly smug look appeared on his face. Rose could almost feel his new wave of confidence emanating off him. She tried to convince herself it was pride. Then again, she hadn't found her ego ballooning with the responsibility thrust upon her. Whether it was also a sort after privilege or not.
"Well I hadn't really expected it," he ran a hand through his hair, throwing his head back, "but the family is over the moon." She pursed her lips at his obvious drop of the pronoun.
"I mean it's great..." He corrected, catching Rose's mildly sour expression at his arrogance guise.
"...Obviously you were the only female candidate!" Rose was unsure whether he was trying to be flattering or not. But the more he spoke the more she bristled and she had no concrete idea why. She reasoned that in this instance, it could have been the implication that there were no other intelligent females in the whole of Hogwarts. Or perhaps she was woefully embarrassed that she'd shagged the first good looking guy she laid her hands on; loathe would she admit that.
Rose was grateful in that moment the waitress swanned over, a tray hovering at her shoulder. It was a welcome distraction to move from under Elliot's gaze.
"Honeycomb for you, miss. And choc-chip for the gentleman," she said, placing the ice-creams, spoons and additional drink on the gingham cloth. She gave them a winning smile before disappearing for the second time into the shop.
Rose took a small spoonful of the ice-cream - realising, her spoon mid mouth- that it was her turn in the conversation.
"I appreciate that," addressing his comment about her apparently unrivalled promotion, "Although, there were others - a few from Hufflepuff - in fact that I would have suggested myself," she said, absently rounding a ball of ice-cream with her spoon before eating it whole. The cold, dairy treat tasted heavenly. Not only because of the sweet honeycomb but the chilled dessert was utterly refreshing in the stifling summer air.
Elliot merely nodded, a little subdued, across the table from her, "I suppose so." Rose got the impression he might have finally clicked that her attitude matched their ice cream.
His expression was becoming forlorn which was almost enough to cause the inevitable. Melting her cold facade much like the ice cream had already begun doing under the hot sun. Rose sighed. How would anyone take her seriously if her attitude slipped this easily?
"Would you like to try some?" She asked, generously throwing him a half-cocked smile.
"Erm...yeah go on then." He reached over with his spoon and took a semi-generous helping.
"Mmmmhgh, not bad!" Pushing his bowl towards her she shook her head.
"Not a fan I'm afraid," said Rose, sliding the bowl back towards him.
Elliot swallowed guiltily.
They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes. The spoons scratching on the edge of their near empty bowls, a reminder to Rose that she was usually better at small talk than this. Elliot certainly seemed to have lost his conversational momentum. She had an inkling of what he might have invited her here for, and she wasn't at all sure what she would make of it if or whenever he managed to say it.
She blamed her mood on the stickiness of her skin against her shirt, and the fact she forgot to bring her sunglasses on such a bright day. Perhaps the boy deserved a little more chance than that. One of the things she was certain of about him was his aptitude for Herbology and Charms. Dwelling on his scholarly perks was just enough to return her attention to his face and not the musty blonde streaks in his hair.
Throwing caution to the non-existent wind she broke the silence, sitting down her spoon. "So was there a real reason you invited me here before term started?"
Elliot's eyes grew for a moment in surprise. Her sharp perception getting the better of him. He bit down on his thumb nail.
"I actually erm...wanted to invite you out. I mean...," Rose looked on patiently for him to continue.
"I mean, after our..."
For the love of Merlin, don't say it out loud.
"...run in. What with us being chosen co-Heads. I thought maybe we could see if it would work. Us together I mean." He finished lamely, the hesitant smile he was giving her made something twist uncomfortably in her gut.
Looking at him then, really looking at him, only a beat went by that she had time to dissect his features again. Trying to scrutinise more thoroughly his appearance and intentions.
A strong (but not pointed) jaw, covered in the fuzzy stubble you would associate with the blurred line between boyhood and man. Pale blue eyes, in contrast to his tanned skin. Toned arms from playing Quidditch were held tightly in his tshirt and a chipped front tooth all gave way to one thing. The guy was indeed handsome. There were no two ways about it. Who was Rose to turn down such an offer of a pleasant enough guy and see where it went? Maybe he did fit the clique Hufflepuff; borderline naive with seemingly good intentions. Was that something she couldn't see past? Of course not. It would also make her a hypocrite for she fitted the stereotype of Ravenclaw house rather soundly.
"So, you would like us to date?" She asked, addressing the point head-on.
"Yeah, sure! I mean, we know certain things work between us, right?" He chuckled and Rose wanted the ground to swallow her whole. He nudged her across the table in a gesture she recognised as playful. Her instinct provided a watery smile as her brain imploded. Before she could internally talk herself out of it, she let her mouth run off as usual.
"Yeah, sure. I guess."
The rest of the afternoon passed more amicably than Rose foresaw. They hit common ground in Flourish & Blotts, comparing tombs they'd read over holidays or in the dead of night. They spoke of their common rooms of which the other had never entered. They discussed Head duties and what might be expected of them. As they stepped out of the Apothecary, Elliot had taken Rose's hand, squeezing it gently with a reassuring smile down at her and held onto it for the remainder of the afternoon.
Neither of them mentioned their previous run in. It wasn't that Rose found it awful to dwell on. Just it was so out of character for her, she hoped he wouldn't want to jump in straight where they left off. The idea of actually remembering something as pleasurable as sex crossed her mind a time or two as she caught him shooting her seemingly covert glances. Another encounter did sound like it would provide countless merits.
When they decided to call it a day, he walked her through The Leaky Cauldron to a side street, commonly used as a secluded apparition spot.
"This was really nice, Elliot."
"It was. We should meet up again soon. Maybe the weekend?"
"I'm not sure; I'll check. And, I'll owl you," she said awkwardly.
Still holding her hand, Elliot took a step towards her, lowering his head as he did so to place a chaste kiss on her lips. Rose anticipated a writhe deep in her gut as he applied a little more pressure before taking a polite step back, separating them. But the writhe or squirm or twist never came. She was surprised that such an intimate action didn't rile something in her. She put it off as being tired from a day wandering aimlessly around Diagon Alley.
"I'll speak to you soon, Rose." He said, giving her one last smile before turning on the spot and vanishing with a pop. She stood for a moment considering whether to continue walking around the streets of London for a while but thought better of it.
It turned out that this summer had become increasingly more unexpected as the days had worn on.
Whoa. This chapter got waaaay ahead of itself. This was intended to be some snippets of Rose's life the summer before 7th year but turned into something a lot more than that. Considering how busy I am at the moment with life generally, I am impressed with myself I got this out now. I'm not asking you readers to be impressed (far from it), I just hope you enjoy it.
Please let me know. I don't even care if it's by a howler.