Chapter Nine
Rose
There was a reason people went to work, Rose soon realised. After about two days, one hour, and seventeen minutes (but who was counting?) the adrenaline from quitting her job had finally worn off - as had the hangover - and she began to worry. She'd yet to hear from her mother, who admittedly had larger fish to fry in light of recent events, but Hugo had been quick to pay her a visit after her rather dramatic exit from the Ministry workforce.
"Seb told me that Portia said to him that you told your boss to go fuck herself," he said, stepping through the floo and into her flat without so much as a courtesy hello.
"Sebastian Thomas has always been a wind up," was her only defense.
He shook his curly head, grinning at her in a way that reminded Rose of their father. "So it's true. You're impossible," he declared.
She huffed, crossing her arms. "You'd think my only brother would be happy for me, that I've finally chucked the job I hated."
"I am happy for you," he insisted, flopping next to her on the couch and helping himself to a biscuit from the tin on the coffee table, "and frankly, it was decent timing. You're lucky that the papers are going mental over these memory wiping cases, or the press would have a field day. Minister's Daughter Tells Manager to Do One," he spoke the last line through a mouthful of crumbs, his hands spread wide as if outlining the headline. A stray bit of biscuit escaped from his mouth and hit Rose in the face.
Rose bit her cheek so that she'd keep a straight face. "You can do one," she informed her little brother.
He just smiled at her, still chewing.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" She asked, changing tactics.
"Just popping 'round to see how my favourite sister is faring now she's unemployed," he answered, flicking his wand at the blinds so that they opened to let in the daylight. "Godric, it's dark in here. What are you doing, having a seance?"
"Yes," Rose answered, deadpan. "I'm trying to resurrect your respect for your elders."
"You'll probably find it in the same place as your dignity" he retorted, not missing a beat. Hugo had irritatingly inherited not only their mother's brains, but their dad's impressively strategic banter as well.
"Har har," she replied scathingly, because she had nothing clever to say. Rose made her way over to the kitchen island to pour herself a drink. "Want one?"
He wrinkled his nose at her. "It's only just gone two o'clock," he said, as if this were a some sort of deterrent. She scoffed and poured a second drink. He accepted it, wincing as he drank. "Fuck me, that's strong." He took another sip, gingerly, and settled back into the couch.
"Why are you really here?" She asked him, meeting his eyes. His were the brown of their mothers', soft and warm.
"I'm worried about you," he said simply, staring right back. She rolled her eyes.
"Why is everybody so worried about me?" She asked, exasperated. He just raised one dark red eyebrow at her.
"I was at a party with Elaine Kirke the other night," he said slowly, and Rose's blood ran cold. Toby's little sister, Elaine, had always been kind to her. But that had been before the break-up… she waited with bated breath for Hugo to continue. "She saw me and started mouthing off some shit about how you'd cheated on her brother."
Rose was on her feet in an instant. "I didn't - I never-" she spluttered, attempting to control herself. "I didn't, Hugo, you don't believe-"
"Of course I dont," he said, though he looked rather relieved. "She was drunk, and she was just spreading stupid rumours. And I told her as much, the lying bitch."
Rose sank back onto the couch, her side pressed to her brother's. One long arm went around her, and she allowed herself to be held for a moment, breathing in his earthy boyish scent.
"Thanks, Hugh," she said nuzzling his side. He chuckled and flicked her ear affectionately, though it still rather hurt.
"No problem, sis," he said.
The sun was already starting to set by the time she woke up. Its rays were streaming through the amber-coloured autumn leaves outside, casting an eerie sepia tone around the room. Rose checked her wristwatch, confused, and found it was nearly half five.
"I was wondering when you'd be up," came a voice to her left, and Rose started, banging her knee on the coffee table.
"Fuck's sake, Hugo," she said, throwing a cushion, which he caught easily. "I didn't know you were still here."
"Better than hanging 'round Mum and Dad's empty house all day," he replied jovially. "Even with you snoring."
"I don't snore," she retorted childishly.
"Hmmm," he shrugged, unconcerned. "What are you doing this evening?"
"Erm, nothing, why?" Somehow telling her little brother that she'd planned on cracking open a bottle of Ogden's Finest and ending up in Rhys Selwyn's bed seemed like a bad idea.
He tossed the cushion back to her. "I promised Louis I'd go to his gallery opening, if you're interested?" He mentioned it casually enough, but Rose knew him better than that. This was clearly a ploy to get her out of the house.
"I don't know…" she said slowly, shifting uncomfortably on the couch, hugging the pillow to her body. "Will everybody be there?"
"Just the cousins, I think." He said quickly.
Rose weighed her options, biting her lip.
"Come on, Ro," he said, giving her his best puppy dog look, reminding her of his younger self. "It'll be dead boring without you there."
She smiled in spite of herself. "It'll be dead boring even with me there." She said, relenting.
The smile she got in return almost made the idea of a night out with her family worth it. "We'll have a good time," he promised.
Louis Weasley had spent much of his post-graduate years in France with his relatives, and clearly fancied himself some sort of Monet. His paintings were rather good, Rose thought, though she had no real talent herself for that sort of thing and therefore no standard to judge it by. Her cousin himself, however, had come back from France with a stupid little blond goatee and and dressed in a style she could only describe as homeless-chic. She supposed it had been fashionable in Montmartre, where he'd lived. Here in England he just looked like a twat.
While Hugo fetched her a drink, she studied a painting of a naked young woman, sprawled out on a settee with what looked like Cornish Pixies dancing around her. She wore a disturbingly come-hither look and kept winking at the men in the room as they passed by. Rose wondered if Louis painted from life, or if this was just a figment of his imagination. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that rather most of his paintings were of various naked females. It was probably a good thing her Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill were on holiday in Egypt for this particular gallery opening.
There were rather a lot of people here, though. Rose watched as witches and wizards she didn't know meandered around the room, viewing the paintings and sipping frothing, bubbling drinks. Several of these people looked like something out of her Witch Weekly magazines, fashionable in a careless way that Rose would bet took hours to perfect. She snorted into her hand as a woman walked around the room in nothing but a shimmering, sheer slip of a dress. Rose wouldn't be caught dead in something that blatantly revealing.
Somebody appeared at her elbow, and she turned, thinking it was Hugo with the drinks.
"Are you stalking me?" she asked grumpily when she saw who it was, focusing back on the portrait. The girl in the painting had sat up with rapt attention and was smiling at Scorpius next to her, blowing him kisses.
"Simmer down, I'm here with Albus." he said, smirking a little.
It rankled her nerves to admit she was still a bit put out from the last time she'd seen him. Yes, she'd been a bit drunk, and he really probably shouldn't like her at all anymore after her last spectacularly embarrassing performance. After all, she'd yelled some truly horrible things at him. But this was Scorpius Malfoy, the boy who'd fumbled over his words in front of her since they were eleven. He'd never turned her down before. In fact, if anything, he'd always leapt at the chance to be around her.
Perhaps those days were in the past, now.
It was a long moment before she realised she hadn't actually said anything in response to him. She was about to say just about anything to make polite conversation, when her cousin called him from across the room and he made to go.
"Wait," she said, grabbing his arm before she could complete her thought process. He looked curiously at her, and perhaps still a little annoyed.
"I'm sorry about the other night," Rose said, quickly, glancing around them to make sure nobody was listening. He tried to draw his arm away, rolling his eyes, and she held on firmly. "Malfoy… er, Scorpius, I'm serious." His eyes were boring into hers, his expression irritatingly unreadable, but he was staying put. She waffled for something to say. "I said a lot of stupid, horrible things, and… I suppose you're Al's best friend, so you're going to be around for a while, so it'd be helpful if we at least got on… and, well, the things I said to you - you didn't deserve any of it at all, and… I'm just sorry, okay?" She finished rather lamely.
He frowned at her, as if expecting more. Rose started to sweat nervously under his gaze.
"Fuck's sake, Malfoy, it's hard enough for me to apologise, so can you please just put me out of my misery and accept it?" She huffed.
He bit his lip gently, as if trying not to laugh.
"Are you winding me up?" She asked, suspiciously.
He let a short bark of laughter out, as if unable to hold it in any longer. It lit him up, transforming his face. There was a dimple in his cheek, she noticed. A tightness left her chest, feeling rather like relief.
"It's all right, Rose," he said, shaking his head, still smiling.
"You let me go on for a bit, didn't you?" She said grumpily, flushing.
He laughed, and then turned serious. "No, but I am glad you said something." His eyes were still boring into hers. Merlin, but they were an interesting silvery colour. It was a moment before she realised he was still speaking. "I'm sorry, too. That night was a stupid idea anyway, shouldn't have happened. I'm happy to forget it, just as long as it's never mentioned to Albus, yeah?" He winced at the last bit, as if unaccustomed to keeping secrets from his best mate. She supposed he probably was.
"Oh Godric, no," she said, smiling back. "Our little secret."
"Brilliant." He said, glancing over his shoulder. "Well, if you excuse me, I'm just going to -"
"Oh! Of course," Rose let go of his arm, feeling herself go red. She hadn't realised she'd still been gripping it. She winced at the red patches left by her fingers on his pale skin, just visible below his rolled-up shirtsleeves.
"Right," he smiled at her, not unkindly. "See you later, then."
"See you later." She said, but he'd already disappeared through the crowd.
She glanced around a bit, looking for anybody she might know, rubbing her arms from the cold of the room. For some strange reason, Louis had chosen to hold the event in an old derelict warehouse in the arse-end of London. Pompous prick.
"Hey, Ro." Her brother was back.
"Hey," She said, accepting the drink he offered her. "Long queue or something?" She glanced around at the bar.
"Got waylaid by Lou," he explained, grimacing. "Got the history of nearly every one of these lovely ladies. You'd never guess it - but apparently he's slept with nearly all of them." He rolled his eyes.
"Shock." Rose replied, rolling hers back. Blame it on the Veela genes, but their cousin was known to be somewhat of a lothario, even with his newfound tramp chic look. She had just turned to another portrait of a rather well-endowed brunette doused entirely in what looked like essence of murtlap when another redhead appeared beside them. It was her cousin Lily.
"Hey Lil," she said, grinning cheekily, "guess how many of these girls Louis' slept with."
There was a beat where her cousin stared up at her, as if not really seeing her. There were fresh tear tracks on her pale face. "Where's Albus?" She finally asked, her brown eyes wide and fearful. Rose's smile slid right off her face.
"I don't know," she said, looking around at Hugo, whose face had gone white under his freckles. "What's wrong, Lily?"
"Go grab Al," she ordered Hugo, ignoring Rose's question and shaking slightly. "Quickly, please."
As Hugo disappeared into the crowd, Rose led Lily to a bench off to the side of the room.
"Lily, please talk to me," she said, bending down next to the younger girl, "You're scaring me." The other girl just shook her head, breathing raggedly.
Hugo had re-appeared with Albus, Malfoy trailing behind his mate as if unsure if he belonged there.
"Lil?" Albus said, leaning down next to his little sister with a gentleness Rose rarely saw from him. "Lily, tell us what happened."
Lily's voice was so soft when she spoke, it was all Rose could do to strain to hear her over the chatter in the room.
"I overheard mum on the floo just now. There's been another attack," she said, her voice trembling, looking up at Al with true fear in her eyes. "It's dad." Then she locked her gaze with Rose, "Our dad and Aunt Hermione."