Hey everyone, thank you so much for waiting! I had a pretty tough month at work so I'm really glad to return to this… I appreciate all your comments and support so much. Personal thank yous to syranzra, NaissaR, hi, Bamberrr.x, DementorDraco, Penelope M. Jones, CaptainScorose, nicole, SophiaForsetti, Thinker, ScoroseOTP, talyak, patatoid, Jacqueline, deceptive-serenade, leejuju, DukeSilver420, Helo, air-please, Butterflies765, M, Chanel Forsk, Mochi, blue Hedwig, Masteroftime, Aryam, yellow14, Lamp Light Reader (much love to you!), WitchyXander728, LillyMay77, JC (so happy to hear from you again!), roseweasley394, veeRonniekins, AMBERJANUS, bashfullygrumpy, and all the lovely anons/guests! I hope you enjoy this :) omg I can't believe we're at chapter 40, I never meant for this to happen.

Chapter 40: The Dark

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

Rose glanced up from her letters to see Poppy's quizzical expression. She'd been half-distracted by the buoyant mood in the air, the room briefly peppered with girlish laughter and idle teasing. As their dorm mates filed out in high spirits, a stuffy silence lingered behind closed doors, keeping company with the serene morning sifting through the curtains. A tempting promise of a rare day in sunlight.

It was quite unthinkable, for most people, that Rose Weasley would be indoors when the outside was so obviously beckoning.

"I actually forgot it was Hogsmeade weekend," Rose admitted, as Arnold The Third snuggled into her lap. "Are you going? I could come with you."

"No, I'll be talking to McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey today." Poppy sat down on Rose's bed, absently smoothing out the wrinkles in the duvet. "Well—not just me. Nott and Plumes, too. I suppose they want to ask a few more questions. Make sure we're alright."

"And are you?" Rose asked, reaching out to squeeze her friend's hand.

"I will be." Poppy gave Rose a reassuring smile as she traced an indiscernible pattern in the fabric. "Are you going to be here all day, then?"

Rose glanced down at Arnold, who was snorting audibly into a scratched up cashmere jumper. "I could wait for you." She brightened slightly. "The weather's good today. We can lunch by the lake afterwards—"

Poppy stopped her with a look. "Rosie. You should go."

"Hmm?"

"To Hogsmeade. You've spent enough time with me this week. I'm grateful for it, but it's only right that you take a break. You deserve it."

"It's not like it's any fun going to Hogsmeade by myself."

She could hear the gentle probe in Poppy's next words. "Maybe if you figure it out with Scorpius, you'll have someone to go with."

A mortifying warmth collected at the back of Rose's neck at the mention of Scorpius. Even before Emery and Georgia crashed their plan two nights ago, he had stayed stubbornly present in the back of her mind. Rose had told herself she would deal with it when the time came. But, at the moment, she was still coming to terms with the strange inertia had built up within her over the last week or so.

If the other girls hadn't stepped out for Poppy's sake, their situation would certainly have been far more complicated. Somehow, Scorpius had been the one to talk Emery and Georgia into reporting Crossley. And—in spite of his troubling history with Georgia—he'd done so with sensitivity and discretion.

Rose couldn't shake off the growing feeling that—maybe—she could have treated him with the same regard she did Fawley, or included him in her plans the way she did Albus.

Her cousin's blunt words chose to return to her then: With you there's always some cause of greater importance.

As uncomfortable as it made her, Rose forced herself to examine her own behavior. It was entirely possible that, in her single-minded pursuit of the truth, she'd dismissed Scorpius' anxiety as a matter of lesser significance. There was no denying that Scorpius had been unfair with her, but it was now dawning on Rose that she hadn't been too considerate either.

Only if you mean it, Rose.

"Poppy," she said, with some hesitation, "when Scorpius and I argued the other day… I accused him of holding me to standards he set for Georgia."

Poppy kept mum, waiting expectantly for Rose to continue.

"I was so mad at him that—the words just slipped out of me. Maybe it's something I've been afraid of all along." Rose swallowed heavily, hugging her knees to her chest. "That he's still hurting from something I have no power over. I don't know how to help him."

"It's not your job to fix him." Poppy shifted closer to Rose. "You have this terrible habit of wanting to save creatures in need. But Scorpius isn't one of your beasts. He has to be the one to fix himself."

That gave Rose a wry chuckle. "Funny how you and Al are saying the exact same thing."

"Hmm. Potter's wrong about a great many things, but not this one."

"Then—what can I do?"

"I'm not really the best person to ask, but I do know one thing. You just have to be you."

Rose rested a cheek on her knee, peering up at her friend as she contemplated this. "Is that really enough?" she asked, almost to herself.

"You are enough. Look at everything you've helped me overcome." Poppy paused, fondness stealing past her expression. "Listen. There's a reason Scorpius likes you so much. If you ask me, he's already a little bit in love with you."

The suggestion made Rose's cheeks hot. "Oh, Poppy. Please don't." She shooed away the possibility, instead choosing that moment to recall Fawley's words about the blind Hippogriff. Something like tenderness filled her then, finally laying the chaos of her thoughts to rest. "We have work to do, you know. Before we even get to any of that. He has to feel safe with me. The way I do with him."

Poppy merely watched Rose with a misty smile. "He knows."

"What?"

"That he needs to do better. He and I—we want the same thing, really. When it all comes down to it. But if we don't think we are deserving enough… we end up making the choices that prove us right." The sudden understanding in Rose's softened face gave Poppy a surge of affection for her friend, and she nudged her gently. "You shouldn't try to solve his problems, Rosie. They're his to figure out. But you should tell him exactly what you just told me."

Rose's eyes flitted back to the cashmere jumper on her lap, her fingers curling into the delicate fabric.

"Yes," she said softly. "I think I should."

Rose found herself ambling through the courtyard fifteen minutes later, getting on her tip-toes in hopes of catching a glimpse of silver-blond hair. Arnold poked his nose out of her book bag, sniffing suspiciously at the air before disappearing. The area was lively with chatter, clustered with groups of students waiting for friends as younger ones milled about to enjoy the sunlit day.

It was usually easy to spot someone like Scorpius, sore thumb that he was. But there was no sign of him.

Perhaps he'd already left for Hogsmeade, Rose thought with disappointment. She supposed she could always wander out to the village and hope to find him there.

Right then, a towering figure brushed right past her, his cloak billowing behind him as he went. Tarquin Zabini was making his way through the crowd in long strides, his dark hair catching the breeze as he headed straight for the gates.

"Zabini!" Rose called belatedly, surging forward to catch up. Tarquin must have heard her, but didn't slow in his step until a moment later. He glanced over his shoulder then, eyes tracking her lazily as she hurried over. Despite the lack of sun over the winter, he still had that coveted sunkissed glow about him, the depth of his complexion providing a rich contrast to the startling lightness of his stare.

"Weasley," he said as she approached, his tone decidedly cool.

"Is—Scorpius with you?" Rose asked, catching her breath. "I was hoping to talk to him before he left for Hogsmeade."

Tarquin shrugged, resuming his stroll. "He's not going."

"Oh." Rose fell into step beside him, determined to get an answer. "Do you know where he is?"

"Maybe." Tarquin sent her a shrewd glance. "What do you want with him?"

"Just to talk." Rose felt uncomfortable under his gaze, a striking hazel-green shade that was far more piercing than it had any right to be. How strange it was, she thought, to realise only now how very little she knew about Tarquin. And yet it was his friendship that undoubtedly had the greatest influence on Scorpius. Surely he, of all people, would be most sensitive to his best friend's private dramas.

Which certainly accounted for Tarquin's raised eyebrows at present.

"You probably know we had a bit of a row," Rose added tentatively, when the silence drew long between them.

Tarquin tilted his head in question, but gave away nothing still. Rose was beginning to get the impression that he… expected more from her. Even though she had no way of knowing what it was he wanted exactly.

So she cleared her throat and tried again. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"I don't know what he sees in you," Tarquin muttered, exasperation touching his voice. "Well. I suppose there's no point hiding it from you, Weasley."

Anyone would take offence to his previous barb, but Rose ignored it with ease; she'd certainly been called worse by the media. "Hiding what from me?" she asked instead.

"He doesn't like to talk about his troubles—one of his more attractive qualities, if you ask me. But he's been going through a bit of a rough time recently. Not that his quarrel with you helped him there, of course."

"Which is why I'm trying to make things right—"

"But maybe he doesn't want to talk to you," Tarquin cut in sharply. "Where the hell were you when his aunt was dying?"

The shock of the words brought the bustle of Rose's surroundings to a grinding halt.

"Lovely woman, his aunt Daphne." Tarquin had turned away, his jaw working briefly as sorrow passed his face. "Always so sweet and generous with me when I visited during the summers in Paris, no matter how sick she got… couldn't even get out of her chair the last time I saw her. I'm heartbroken, of course… but this must be far worse for Scorpius. He's always been her favourite." He exhaled unsteadily. "If you ask me, he might never get over it."

None of this was comprehensible to Rose. Why hadn't Scorpius ever mentioned his sick aunt to her… or the fact that she was dying? She fumbled with the news, trying to find her voice. "Hold on—Zabini. When did this happen?"

"Over the past week." Tarquin refused to look at Rose now, his eyes trained distantly at the blue sky as he lost himself in melancholy. "Scorpius loved her like a second mother, you know. Spent more of his childhood on her estate than in Wiltshire, just to avoid old man Lucius. Ah, hell. I can't imagine what he must be going through. Not to mention he's still fucking miserable about you." There was an unsaid accusation in his voice. "Obviously he's hardly in the mood to go to Hogsmeade."

Rose stood there, stunned to stillness by the gravity of this new information. Suddenly, nothing of their fight the last week held any weight in her frantic heart.

It only mattered now that she was beside him.

With him. Right away.

Without thinking, Rose caught Tarquin's arm. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"Why?"

Tarquin's casual question threw Rose for a loop. "Why?"

"Yeah. Why look for him if you're only going to pick a fight?" Tarquin shrugged away from her grip, his expression completely void of emotion now. "He's had a hell of a week. If you're only going to make the whole thing worse, Weasley, I'd rather you leave him be."

For whatever reason… it was clear now that Tarquin was being difficult on purpose. In light of Scorpius hurting, however, Rose found herself caring very little about Tarquin's opinion.

She unclenched her fists, raising her chin slightly.

"I'm not going to make things worse," she said, her voice surprisingly measured. "And I don't want Scorpius to be alone right now. You know as well as I do that it's the last thing he needs."

Her uncharacteristic reproach gave Tarquin pause. After a terse moment, he relented, gesturing carelessly in the direction of the castle.

"Likely the music room," he drawled, as though he was throwing out words of no consequence. "It's where he went a lot of the time when Georgia pissed him off—"

He'd barely finished his sentence before Rose was on her way, leaving him behind as she headed swiftly towards the castle. The anxious ache in her belly had spread to the rest of her; she barely felt her legs as they took her through the hallways.

At present, her focus had narrowed into a single point among the chaos of her mind.

She had to see Scorpius.

Waiting any longer would be unbearable.

The crowds thinned out around her as she scaled the stairwells, and soon there were only the echoes of her rapid footsteps bouncing off the stone walls. If memory served correctly, the music room was tucked away in the fifth floor corridor, down the hall from this spiralling flight of stairs. Rose had peeked in once upon a time, as a lone firstie exploring the vastness of the Hogwarts castle. She only had the fuzziest of impressions of its existence.

Before long, she arrived among the shadowed arches of the fifth floor corridor. Rose tried to catch her breath as she passed through a sun-soaked hallway, her surroundings bereft of the everyday bustle of student life. Absently, she registered the trill of bird song against the backdrop rustle of swaying branches. For whatever reason, there seemed to be an otherworldly quality to this ordinary corridor this afternoon… this misplaced serenity both haunting and inviting in equal measure.

And then, from a distance—the soothing, musical lilt of a piano.

Rose's ears perked.

She caught the melody in ghostly drifts, each delicate note gaining dimension with every step she took. She knew the famous tune at once, its title teasing the tip of her tongue. As she listened on, the familiar refrain gave way to abrupt pauses or experimental chords… as though the pianist had foregone his sheet music, and was trying to play from memory. She recalled something of Scorpius then, from some time ago—

I'm supposed to practice at school, but I don't. Not as much as I should.

At the end of the corridor, a young Mozart sat up primly in his portrait to address her.

Rose put a finger to her lips. Mozart frowned, shaking his head fervently as he jabbed a thumb towards the tall oak doors on his left.

"It's occupied," he harrumphed.

Rose put on her most innocent expression. "I'll be quiet."

"This piece requires tranquility, lady. He's practising the—"

"Gymnopédie." The title of the composition tumbled out of her then, and Rose couldn't help a smile as Mozart gaped at her. "That's the password, I take it."

"Satie wrote more than one," Mozart huffed, turning up his nose.

"Three, to be exact." And then she'd swept past him before he could protest, through an unremarkable entryway where the doors sat slightly ajar. Rose closed the doors quietly behind her, resting her back against the dull paneled wood as her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness.

The curtains were drawn on all the towering windows; only a dusty stream of light spliced through the elliptical room, illuminating the depth of a once-marvelous space. The music chamber was adorned by romantic baroque embellishments, yet every visible detail was now tinged with disrepair. Rose's curious gaze travelled over the magnificent silhouette of a Celtic harp; an antique display of hastily arranged violins and cellos; a classical drum set dwarfed by a host of wind instruments. A stale scent of polish on pine and resin hung heavy in still air.

Then—her eyes tracked the edge of daylight, finding the source of the brokenly played Gymnopédie. Her breath caught; a lone figure was seated at the grand piano, the dusty ebony lid reflecting light splinters across the faded damask. Scorpius' head was lowered over the keys, immersed in finding the song beneath his fingertips. Even alone, he retained a beautiful posture, his back rod straight, arms hanging loosely from his shoulders as the light touch of his keys strayed away once more from the original composition.

And, just like that, her concerns and worries cottoned into dryness in her mouth. She found herself in something of a physical memory, back to the Malfoy Manor on Boxing Day. Silly and shy once more, just the way she felt under the celestial ceiling of his domed hall. Where Scorpius had flirted with her all afternoon. They'd been tentative and careful with each other, letting their playful camaraderie distract from everything they didn't dare acknowledge. But she'd sensed, even then, that the newness of their affections had teetered on the edge of something far deeper.

At the time, Rose hadn't been able to comprehend what it was.

Though she was, perhaps, closer to understanding it now.

She was jolted out of her stupor at the sudden movement in her book bag. Arnold The Third had popped out, quivering in excitement when he spotted Scorpius.

"Arnold," she squeaked. But it was too late.

The experimental melody stopped abruptly at the sound of her voice. Scorpius had barely lifted his head before Arnold scrambled upwards on the piano bench, clamping onto his arm with a low whine. "What the hell—Arnold? How did you find…"

He froze, spotting Rose over his shoulder.

Wordlessly, he got to his feet. Arnold had dropped to the floor, rubbing sweetly against Scorpius' ankle before floating away to bury himself in a ratty armchair. Scorpius watched him skitter off, visibly befuddled, before his tentative gaze raised to meet Rose's.

For some reason, coming face to face with him brought a heavy lump to her throat. God, they'd been so mad at each other the last time they met. But now, that fight felt like a distant thing, insignificant and pointless. There was no explaining the painful swell in her chest, the kind she got whenever she longed childishly for home… She would think herself silly later, for the way her heart pounded at the sight of him in the almost darkness—his finger-tousled hair, the slight rumple of his dress shirt, the faint shadows under his eyes… Oh, when had he become so familiar and so dear to her?

No longer thinking, Rose had closed the distance between them with quick steps, throwing her arms around Scorpius and burying her face in his chest.

He was not expecting this, certainly—she felt his body stiffen against hers. Common sense was creeping up on her now, but she was far too emotional to care. After a moment that felt all too long, his arms came up to wrap warmly around her shoulders.

Almost immediately, Rose felt herself relax, her eyes fluttering shut as he squeezed her against him.

"What's wrong?" Scorpius asked softly, his voice dropping close to her ear. And suddenly it was—like they'd never fought.

Maybe he'd forgotten he was mad at her, too.

Rose loosened her hold ever so slightly, their eyes finally meeting in the dark. Already, she was overwhelmed by details both familiar and new. The evergreen scent of his cologne… the skip of his heart beneath her ear… the faintest of bristles on his jawline scratching against her temple. The wan light reflected in his storm-grey eyes, a colour that lacked all degree of warmth, but melted her all the same.

"Are you okay?" she whispered at length, a hand coming up to his cheek.

Scorpius was looking at her closely, his intent gaze wandering over her face. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You probably didn't want me to know, but—I heard about your aunt."

"My aunt?" he murmured. He seemed too distracted by her to notice what she was saying.

"I never knew you had an aunt, or that she was sick." Rose tightened her hold on him, puzzled now by his lack of reaction. "Tarquin told me everything. I'm so sorry."

Scorpius blinked slowly, as though still dazed by her presence, then her words finally seemed to catch up to him. "I'm not following—what are you sorry about?"

"Your aunt, Scorpius," she said, emphasising the words. "Tarquin said she was dying."

It was hard to miss the wry note in Scorpius' voice. "Aunt Daphne's always dying."

Rose paused, her eyebrows lifting in confusion. When Scorpius spotted her bewilderment, he cleared his throat. "What I mean to say is… she does have a fatal blood disease. It's a Greengrass curse, but my mother was spared from it. Aunt Daphne's had a few complications, but it'll take a lot more to kill her. Frankly, she's always exaggerated her condition to get our attention…" Scorpius trailed off then, noticing the look on Rose's face. "What did Tarquin tell you, exactly?"

"She's—she's not dead?" Rose said, her voice coming out in a squeak.

He stared back at her, comprehension dawning on his face. "No."

"You're okay?"

"Listen, Tarquin's a good friend," Scorpius said carefully, looking like he was trying not to smile now. "But you shouldn't believe everything he says. I don't."

It all became clear to Rose in that instant.

Tarquin Zabini had lied to her face without batting an eyelid… about a death in Scorpius' family, of all things! Was common decency beyond him? This was unacceptable, even for that awful, despicable, traitorous lowlife—

This indignant burst of outrage snapped Rose out of her thoughts, and she withdrew her arms abruptly from Scorpius' shoulders.

"I'm going to kill him," she said tightly, turning swiftly on her heel to head back for the doors.

But Scorpius was much quicker than she was. Before she could step away, he'd reached forward deftly to drag her back towards him. He looked vaguely amused now, which only infuriated her further.

"Do you think this is funny?" Rose demanded, torn between fury and embarrassment.

"No. Well, yes. A little, but…" He had drawn her close, a question in his eyes. "Is that why you're here?"

"Yes!" Rose cried, the colour blotching her cheeks as she tried to pull away from Scorpius' hold. "Tarquin made it sound like your aunt died, Scorpius!"

There was a tentative disbelief in his voice. "You were worried about me?"

She couldn't help her impatience. "Of course I was. I didn't want to leave you alone if you'd lost her. And really, I'm so glad you didn't, but…" Humiliation flared through her once more. "I'm going to hex Zabini's arse right now, I don't care he's your best friend—"

She only glimpsed Scorpius' smile before he'd tugged her upwards against him and kissed her. Rose made a small sound of protest, but his palm had come up to cradle her cheek, coaxing her to softness in his arms. She fumbled for purchase on his broad shoulders as the delicious warmth of his mouth fit sweetly over hers… his tongue meeting hers with a sly tilt of his head.

And then, just like that—he pulled away. His blurry gaze meeting hers. A silver of light in the dark.

Wordlessly, Scorpius leaned in once more, nuzzling into her cheek. Rose turned her face to his, trying to regain her bearings as their foreheads gently touched. Her blood was blooming hot in her veins, the cloud fog of her thoughts alert to nothing but the man before her. She could feel his desire in her bones even before she felt it from his hands.

Something about Scorpius' affections, she realised dimly, always made the world under her feet shift a little bit.

"I'm still going to hex him," she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

He hummed dreamily against her jawline. "Love to see it."

"And you can't just kiss me every time I'm mad about something."

"I know, sweetheart. I just…" His mouth had found hers once more, his words underlined by the renewed urgency of his kiss. "…can't help myself with you."

God, it was tempting to let it all go. Everything unsaid that thrummed beneath their hopeless attraction. His possessive tendencies, her righteous decisions. How tempting it was to pretend all was well with a kiss… to bury the unpleasantness of the past two weeks between them and never mention it again… to rebuild their natural camaraderie through the growing force of their physical chemistry. But Rose already knew, just from a lifetime of observing Ron and Hermione, that even the smallest of resentments would return to haunt them if they were not nipped in the bud.

Common sense won out then. Rose released him abruptly, stumbling a few steps back to put distance between them.

They stared at each other, chests heaving and faces flushed. Rose felt a terrible awareness shudder through her then… her heated skin now overly sensitive to every shift in the fabric of her clothes. Scorpius looked equally undone, his pupils blown wide, his mouth wickedly red from their kisses... Against the narrow light, the shadows emphasised the handsome angles of his face, giving his stare a wolfish quality.

He looked utterly ravenous. For her.

A foreign shiver, swift and delightful, went down her spine.

God, what was wrong with them? Surely they could get through a damn conversation without having to touch each other. Rose tried to school her erratic breathing as she moved back further towards the window.

On impulse, Scorpius stepped in her direction.

"Don't," Rose managed, inching backwards.

"Why?"

"Because we need to talk."

"We're talking."

"No, we won't if you come too close—" Rose bit back a smile when he stopped where he was, looking disgruntled at her words. "Scorpius, this is important. I want us to figure this out before we…" She cleared her throat. "Get distracted."

Scorpius cursed under his breath, rubbing his face with his palm as he regarded her. "I know," he said in a low tone. "I've just missed you too much."

His honesty made a warmth bloom in her chest. "Did you?"

"Didn't you?" he returned, looking far too serious for her liking.

Rose's mirth faded. It seemed impossible, she thought, that she should still feel this shy and inadequate with Scorpius. But if they were going to talk, then it would be no help to evade the truth. She had to—try.

No matter how uncomfortable it made her.

"I've missed you too," she admitted softly, her hands clasped tightly together to hide her nerves.

When she could finally bring herself to look up, Scorpius was watching her with a sort of wonder. Flitterbies, Rose told herself, trying not to blush as he approached the velvet chaise a few feet away from her… every movement restrained and deliberate as he lowered himself into the cushions and settled there. He looked deceptively comfortable as he rested his chin in his hand and leaned forward, the intensity of his gaze putting the flutter in her stomach once more.

"Let's talk," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers. "Before we get distracted again."