AN: This turned out to be the longest chapter yet, 2-3 times longer than all previous chapters, so I'm glad I split it up, haha. That said, it does also come with a Trigger Warning for assault, domestic abuse, and the associated aftermath.
Thank you to tatapb, MarieBoheme, and Mochi for the reviews. I hope this chapter clears up some of your questions, at least. Now, with that out of the way - onto the next chapter! I hope you enjoy.

"That includes you, Malfoy," Rose called loudly, when everyone else had dispersed to change in preparation of their night out.

He jumped a bit at the sound of his name, and turned his permascowl on her. "What?"

"You're coming, too. Obviously." When he continued to glare at her without a single move, she raised a brow. "Did you not hear me? Surgito Sirens has a surprise performance at D-Trip tonight. Come on," she said with an ushering chin-jerk toward the exit.

"Why in the name of Merlin's wrinkly left testicle would I want to come with you?" he growled at her.

"Because I come bearing gifts, and I have a dress for Els that you'll kick your own arse for missing if you don't," she said with a confident smirk, nose wrinkling in jest. When he paused to consider it, but still didn't rise from his chair, she huffed and moved back into the kitchen. His eyes were glued to the floor, so she crouched in front of him, elbows on her knees and hands linked between them like an adult trying to have a serious conversation with a small, upset child - an analogy she'd have loved to taunt him with, if he wasn't already wallowing. "Look, Malfoy, I know you hate me-" he grunted in agreement, she rolled her eyes, "-and rest assured you aren't my favorite person either but-" she cut herself off with a sigh and a glance away.

After a calming breath, she initiated eye contact again, face softening. "You love Elspeth. Yes?" He gave her a guarded look, but nodded. "So do I. And she," Rose punctuated the sentence with a nudge to his extended leg, "loves you, ya crotchety bastard. So, I'll be damned if I'm going to let you two fall apart because you can't figure out how to talk about your feelings. Got it?"

He lifted his eyebrows at her with one long inhale, which he then held.

"Come on, scorpion." Rose started tugging at his hands and arms. He sank further into his seat, obstinate as usual. "Don't make me drag you there, because I will and it'll be hopelessly embarrassing for the both us."

"Fine," he ground out, prompting a celebratory whoop that had him scowling again. He lifted himself from the chair with such painstaking reluctance that she'd have thought he was mourning his seat's absence, if she didn't know any better; Al's dining chairs were notoriously uncomfortable, and mysteriously resistant to cushioning charms. Still, Rose practically skipped out the kitchen with Malfoy in tow. "...But only because of the dress."

"Sure, Malfoy, we'll go with that." She tossed a smirk over her shoulder at the grouch, eyes twinkling. "Don't worry, with this dress, everyone else will believe you. It'll be worth the trip." She winked, he squinted. "Promise."

The Dirigible Trip was a bustling underground nightclub in more than one sense of the word. It was situated somewhere beneath the intersection of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, but anyone would be hard-pressed to pin down a more specific location due to the fact that it didn't actually have an entrance at street level. The only way to access it was by apparating in from the corner, which meant that all newcomers were vetted by someone willing to let them ride side-along. This brought them to a stone chamber with one door on each of the seven walls, all but one of which were tricks. Rose brought in Al and Hugo, while Malfoy played passenger to Elspeth.

Rose lead the group to the correct door and tapped one knuckle against the wood to the tune of Do the Hippogriff - the password song of the week - grinning at the small stained glass window that swung open to reveal a critical pair of light brown eyes. "Well if it isn't Rose Granger-Weasley," rumbled a deep, warm voice; then the door swung outward, and Rose stepped aside to reveal Bilius Orpington, former beater for the Chudley Canons. Dad had tried to set them up a few times during the summer after Hogwarts, but had failed spectacularly; a blow which was only softened by Orpington's near-fatal quidditch injury and subsequent early retirement, she was sure. As the others shuffled into the narrow hall, he gave her a dazzling grin and held his arms open. "Get in here, lass."

She happily stepped into an engulfing embrace, face pressed to his shoulder. "Been too long, Billy Goat. Will we see you inside?"

"Nah, I've got door shift all night."

"Shame," she pouted.

"This place is oddly quiet for a nightclub," Malfoy chimed in grumpily from further into the hall.

Rose excused herself with a peck on the cheek and a promise that she'd save Bil a dance next time. "It's called magic, Malfoy. Reckon you've heard of it?" He scowled, she laughed. Elspeth led them the rest of the way down the hallway.

They round the bend, and were immediately swallowed by the roar of the crowd. Its only competition was the sonorous wrock music that boomed through the cavern. Rose had long suspected that the club's many bewitchments included something extra special that made the bass positively thrum through one's veins. It was always an... immersive experience.

Elspeth disappeared into the pulsating masses, while Rose led the rest of their group to the bar. This area, as well as the smattering of tables on the opposite edge of the club, was magically muffled for the sake of keeping D-Trip's bartenders able to actually hear their patrons' orders. "Schletters on the rocks, please," she smiled sweetly at the witch behind the bar. Her eyes swept through the crowd while the others ordered, and eventually landed on the blond next to her. Rose leaned back, elbows propping her up on the bar behind her, and smirked over at him. Al and Hugo were chattering about prospective dance partners on his other side, but Malfoy was paying even less attention than she was. He only had eyes for one: the brunette in a shimmering silver dress that cinched at the waist but pooled deliciously over the soft curves of her hips and chest, held together by tantalizingly thin straps that swept over her shoulders and - as they saw when she spun to the music - crisscrossed down a dangerously low back. "Told you it'd be worth it," Rose whispered, shoulder pressed to his so she could reach his ear.

His eyes dilated.

Their drinks arrived accompanied by a round of small vials of a deep brown liquid, which the bartender said was "On the house." Her fingers had lingered on Rose's wrist longer than necessary, and the lidded gaze she pinned her with as she spoke toed the line of lurid. Warmth pooled in Rose's belly, eyes following the witch until she was roused by her cousin downing his entire vial and glass in two quick gulps. He then promptly disappeared into the crowd.

Rose's eyebrows flew toward her hairline. She threw her arm out in front of Malfoy and Hugo before they could grab theirs. "Wait. Either of you taken Elixir 7 before?" They shared a glance, then shook their heads no. "Don't take more than-" she lifted the vial, estimated about fifteen drops, "-a third of this at once. It enhances the effects of alcohol and other party potions. Any more than that and you'll be in over your heads in no time, so you'll want to wait an hour between doses; two maybe, to be careful. Do you have work tomorrow?"

Hugo shook his head again, but Malfoy frowned and admitted, "Got opening shift at the Committee."

Rose gave a curt nod. "Don't take more than half," she instructed decisively. "The hangover can make you rather... randy," she explained carefully, eyes pointedly avoiding her brother, "especially on the first try. It's nothing a little private time can't fix, but it's no good in an office setting."

Malfoy gave her the side-eye, cheeks coloring. "Thanks for the warning." She nodded and dropped her arm, turning to her drink.

Hugo took a swig of his, then cleared his throat and asked, "How'd you meet Graves, anyway?"

Rose snorted at his eagerness to change the subject, but she also didn't object. She did find herself inexplicably unable to answer, though. No matter how she searched her brain, she couldn't seem to remember how, exactly, Thomas Graves had entered her life. Her brow furrowed in distress. First the tea that smelled and steamed like love potion, a fact she couldn't believe she'd missed before that night, and now... missing memories? She thought, perhaps, it'd been during her expedition in Australia, but... no, Thomas had never been there. "Through work," she settled on eventually, as it was the only bit of factual information she managed to recall. Dread dripped down her spine, but she did her best to ignore it. Whatever she'd gotten herself into, she refused to let it ruin her night, not when she was supposed to be comforting her family and getting the couple that accompanied them back together.

Her eyes jumped to Malfoy, who for some ridiculous reason was still standing next to her instead of out dancing with Elspeth. "Wait, did you say 'the Committee?' Don't tell me you're still working in Muggle-Worthy Excuses?"

"What of it?" he returned with a glare.

"Aren't you... well, bored?"

The way he sniffed and looked away told her that she was correct, but that he was loathe to admit it - at least to her. "No."

She rolled her eyes, shoved at his shoulder and sipped at her drink. "Liar."

Hugo finished his drink with a groan and pocketed his remaining Elixir 7. "Aaand, that's my cue," he grumbled, extracting himself from the group. "Only you two would be talking work right now."

Which left Rose alone at the bar with Malfoy, who was looking oddly offended. "Elspeth works there," he said defensively, as if she needed reminding.

"And she loves it. It's a creative outlet for her. Perfect fit, really." When he raised a brow at her, she sighed. "Don't get me wrong, Malfoy, I'm not disparaging the job itself. It's a respectable position, as far as Ministry work goes at least. I just..." She paused to take a drink, mulling over her words.

"You just what, Weasley?" Malfoy asked bitterly. "Thought I'd have quit by now, Al's favor be damned? Thought I couldn't hold down a job to save my life?"

"Oh, not at all!" Rose hurried to interrupt, hand resting on his forearm. She blinked wide eyes up at him, searching his face. He shifted under her gaze, then turned to lean his forearms against the bar, breaking contact. Rose chewed her lip for a second before leaning one elbow on the bar, head tilted so she could still see his face. "That's not what I mean, scorpion," she said softly, barely loud enough to be heard over the music even with the muffling charms. "Honestly, I... I just thought you'd have transferred to the Department of Mysteries by now."

That startled him enough to resume eye contact. "Come again?!"

"It's hardly that crazy of an idea, is it?" She tilted her head, smirking. "I mean, you like puzzles almost as much as I do, which is saying something." When he continued staring, mouth agape, she finished off her drink and dripped half her elixir onto her tongue before continuing. "It's regular enough hours that you'd still have time for hobbies and relationships and whatever else. The pay is good. It involves enough variety and intrigue to keep even you interested, and you're bloody brilliant enough that they'd take you in a heartbeat. Not to mention you'd have access to more restricted tomes than Malfoy Manor and Hogwarts combined, by multitudes, and considering you were probably the only one in school more studious than me, you can't convince me you wouldn't love that. Plus, you'd still get to see Elspeth at work; not as much, sure, but if anything a little separation between your personal life and your work life would probably help your relationship more than harm it, now - why are you looking at me like that?!"

Malfoy's eyes positively sparkled, and a Cheshire grin took over half his face. "Red, did I just hear you call me brilliant?"

Rose rolled her eyes. "Of course that's what you'd get from this."

"Bloody brilliant, I believe were your exact words."

"Merlin, I need another drink," she grumbled, lips pressing together. So, she ordered one, but when she looked back he was still grinning like the cat who ate the canary. She scowled, and somehow she was pretty sure his smile grew. She wouldn't have thought it possible if she hadn't seen it herself. "Ugh, yes, I did, but you're going to have to cling to that memory for the rest of your life because I won't be repeating it." She lifted her chin, and he laughed. She rolled her eyes again. "Point is, it'd be a good fit. Think on it, Malfoy. And in the meantime," Rose nodded toward the crowd, where a particular brunette was making come hither eyes at them. "Els is going to have a conniption if someone doesn't dance with her soon."

He hesitated, so Rose decided to give him a push.

"Race you," she taunted in a whisper directly into his ear, then slipped into the throng, drink in hand.

Elspeth ended up sandwiched between Scorpius and Weasley, both of whom swore they'd gotten there first. The curve of her hips in his hands kept Scorpius from complaining, though. He wasn't sure how long they gyrated; the only thing he had to track time with was the start and end of each song, which was hardly sufficient when he was six shots to the wind and had approximately eight drops of Elixir 7 flooding his veins. The crowd pressed in on them as they bounced, rolled, and twirled into a sort of fugue.

At one point, the women had been dancing so closely they'd damn near kissed when Elspeth bounced. Weasley's sense to pull back slightly and turn her lidded eyes on him wasn't enough to stamp out the spark of jealousy in his eyes as he dipped his head to nip at Elspeth's neck. She'd left them to their own devices after that, but was always in the periphery - and as the songs blurred together, Scorpius found his gaze roaming over to her undulating form almost as much as Elspeth's did.

Eventually, Sergito Sirens ended their set. When D-Trip's regular DJ stepped up to the plate, Scorpius let Els guide him by the hand as she weaved through the crowd. She pulled Weasley out of the arms of her most recent dance partner, and took them to the tables that lined the wall opposite the bar. "Time for a break," she explained breathlessly, dropping Weasley's hand once they'd gotten far enough away that the music muffled. She perched on a tall stool while Scorpius remained standing at her side, and Weasley leaned against the table on his other side, facing Elspeth.

While Els flagged down a cocktail waitress and set about ordering their next round, Scorpius squinted suspiciously at the redhead next to him. She looked... on edge, for lack of a better term; which made no sense whatsoever, since he'd been watching her down calming draughts like candy all night. She rested her cheek in her hand, but then jerked back up with a wince. He frowned. She pressed ginger fingers to her cheekbone, just below her eye, and winced again. With a scowl, she rubbed her arm - massaged it, almost - then shook out her hand. Is she... in pain? His eyes swept over her, but if she was sporting any scrapes or bruises he couldn't see them; which he supposed shouldn't come as a surprise. Their venue wasn't exactly well-lit.

"You're staring, Malfoy."

His eyes widened and snapped back to hers. Thankfully, it seemed the fates were smiling on him, as he was saved from having to explain himself by a pair of masculine arms wrapping around Weasley's waist from behind. It wasn't until she leaned to the side slightly and turned her head to look at the man that Scorpius recognized him: Corbin McLaggen. I take back my thanks, he thought bitterly. Weasley, on the other hand, seemed thrilled to see him.

"Hey there, tiger," she practically purred.

Sickening, really.

"Rose, it's been an age," Corbin slurred into her shoulder. "You coming home with me tonight?"

"Did you miss the part where she's engaged?" Elspeth snapped.

Weasley gave her an odd look, but it was Corbin who responded with a laughing, "So? The Rose Weasley I know wouldn't be caught dead in a monogamous relationship."

"True," Weasley chimed in, though she was frowning, and that far-off look had returned to her eyes. "But still. Not tonight, I'm afraid." She pat his cheek, and that should have been that, but Corbin remained running his grubby paws down Weasley's sides.

"What?" He cast a glance around their group, and laughed. "Don't tell me you're sharing a bed with that Death Eater spawn?"

"We're not-" Scorpius had started to rebuff the implication that he and Weasley would ever be involved in such a way, but the resounding crack of Weasley's fist making contact with Corbin's nose killed the words in his throat.

"Keep talking out your arse, McLaggen, and you'll find your head shoved right up it," Weasley spat, voice rising quickly and full of an unexpected venom.

Corbin's thumb dabbed at the blood gushing down his face, and when he turned his head to spit, it sent a tooth clattering onto the stone floor. "You know," he slurred, "I always knew you were a crazy bitch, but I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be defending Malfoy, of all-"

His gesture toward Scorpius was interrupted when Weasley gripped his hand, twisted it behind his back, and kicked the crook of his knee. When he fell to the floor, she braced one of her calves against his back, knee digging in between his shoulder blades, and leaned forward to growl into his ear. "What did I just say?"

"What's going on here?" Hugo asked from where he approached, hand-in-hand with an unfamiliar, sandy-haired wizard.

"McLaggen is being reminded that Rosie gets her temper from her daddy," came Al's amused response. Scorpius blinked. When had Albus turned up? Brow furrowed, he looked back to the tussle in time to see Rose grip Corbin's jaw, jerking his glare away from their table.

"Don't you dare. It's time for you to leave, tiger; and unless you want to see just how crazy I can get, I suggest you make haste." With that, she shoved off him with her knee, which sent Corbin sprawling across the ground. He scrambled clumsily to his feet and gaped at her like a fish out of water - presumably hoping to get off another snide comment on his way out, but Weasley wasn't having it. "Not another word," she snapped her fingers in front of his face, curls bouncing about wildly as she shook her head, "don't even look at him. Go on. Shoo. Get out of my sight. Now, before I break more than just your nose."

"Wouldn't test her, mate," Al added with great mirth.

Weasley pointed toward the exit and glared flaming daggers until Corbin finally seemed to realize he was in over his head, and left with his thumb pressed to a freshly split lip. Upon her return to the table, she knocked back two shots of firewhiskey and what looked to be another calming draught before her eyes finally cast around the group. She froze, a full vial of Elixir 7 at her lips. "...What?"

When they just continued to stare at her in silence, she shifted uncomfortably and brought the vial down to fiddle with between her fingers. "What? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Don't even look at him," Hugo mocked.

"And unless you want to see just how crazy I can get, I suggest you make-" Al joined in on the mockery, but couldn't keep a straight face, and his laughter spread to the others until the "haste!" was gasped out amidst their guffaws.

Rose rolled her eyes and poured the elixir down her throat, then sniffed indignantly. "He should've known better. Only I get to talk to Malfoy like that," she muttered with a scowl. Scorpius, the only other one that wasn't laughing, found himself oddly hypnotized by the fire that still raged in her eyes. "Anyone else and he's prone to do something stupid like believe them," she huffed, then caught him still staring and tilted her head. The fire died down a bit - much to his disappointment - as her expression shifted into something he couldn't quite decipher.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt the festivities," said Hugo's companion, who Scorpius had entirely forgotten about and still hadn't caught the name of, "but you appear to be bleeding."

Rose frowned down at her arm, which had a growing line of blood down it. She wiped the blood off with a cocktail napkin and a wince, to reveal... well, nothing. There wasn't a scratch on her. Scorpius frowned. Her hand clamped over her forearm and hid it under the table, but not quickly enough to keep Scorpius's intent gaze from noting the blood that reappeared a second later, seemingly from nowhere.

"Think I'm gonna call it a night," she announced, the far-off look returning to her eyes. Scorpius was getting tired of that look. He much preferred the fiery one.

"No, already?" Elspeth pouted.

"Don't worry," Rose responded with a small smile that didn't fit in with the rest of her face. "I've decided I'm going to be in town a while." Glee bloomed in his chest at her words, but he scowled the second he noticed it. "See you lot tomorrow. Pleasure to see you, Tate-" ah, so that's his name "-I trust you'll make sure my brother gets home safely."

Then she was gone with a pop, and Scorpius was left feeling rather shell-shocked. Conversation picked back up around him, but his mind was somewhere else. That is, until Elspeth's hand found its way into his. He cast a mystified look around the circle. "Is she always like that?" he asked.

The rest of them exchanged glances, and responded with a resoundingly fond, "Yeah, pretty much."

Huh.

Rose gripped the sides of the sink with shaking hands as she stared at herself in the mirror, struggling to build up the courage to dispel the glamour that she was now certain blanketed every inch of her skin. She'd been pacing her hotel room for at least an hour trying to piece things together, and all she'd managed to glean from the experience was that she had far more holes in her memory than she'd anticipated. Thomas's doing, she was sure of it, especially given that a double dose of the potion she'd made to treat memory loss didn't seem to be helping at all. It didn't help that all the calming draughts in the world proved incapable of quieting the way every nerve in her body screamed in yearning of him, despite the fact that she hadn't consumed a drop of the suspiciously Amortentia-esque tea - which Graves had been practically spoon-feeding her for Merlin knew how many months - in over forty-eight hours.

She'd grown more and more irritable throughout the night as she fought against the urge to go running back to America, against everything in her that begged for his presence, and had been practically climbing the walls by the time McLaggen in all his dimwitted vitriol made the mistake of being the prick that broke the hippogriff's back. It was maddening.

Her knuckles were white as the porcelain of the sink by the time she took hold of her wand and started methodically casting counter-spells over her body. She did her best not to look at the marks, the cuts and bruises, the scars both old and new, some familiar and some not... the gashes held together with crude stitching. Only once she was sure she'd revealed all that she could did Rose let her gaze return to the mirror.

A sob racked through her with such vigor it knocked her back against the cold glass door of the hotel shower.

She had a black eye, a fat lip, a scrape on her chin, and not one but three scars she didn't recognize - and that was just on her face. She pressed her quivering lips together and forced herself to undress so she could take full stock of her injuries. In the end, she found them all to be relatively minor; nothing she couldn't mend with the meticulous application of some basic healing spells, and a lot that had already begun to heal the old-fashioned muggle way. She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse, as it meant that they'd been left there on purpose.

Shoulders tense, she turned on the shower and sunk to the tile when it steamed. For a few minutes, she sat with her knees tucked to her chest and stared at the wall, letting the hot water wash over her. It did nothing to ease the cold, hard terror that kept her shivering as she tried and failed to take deep breaths. In fact, the second attempt was enough to send her over the edge and right into a hyperventilating frenzy as she began scrubbing frantically at her skin. She wanted it gone, every trace of him, every part of her that she'd ever let him touch. It was only when she'd scrubbed herself raw and the water ran red that she realized, sometime since she'd entered the shower, the tea had finally worn off.

A small comfort, but a comfort all the same.

Her fingers absently pulled out stitches until her tears ran dry, vacant eyes glued to the drain as her blood washed away.

By the time Rose's breathing had leveled out, the sun was rising. Her knees buckled as she rose to wash her hair and body twice more before turning off the water. She summoned her wand with a wave of her fingers, and set about mending her wounds. When she was finished, she finally climbed out of the shower and left the bathroom without another glance at the mirror.

She spent the morning analyzing the remnants of tea left in the floral pink tin with renewed focus. The leaves and petals seemed to have been soaked in an altered version of Amortentia and then magically flash dried, which made sense given everything she'd learned the day before; but it also contained traces of Murtlap Essence and a downright shocking amount of nicotine. The Murtlap Essence, she theorized, was included to dull her pain enough to keep her from noticing her injuries when he didn't want her to. Diluted to the degree that it was, it wouldn't heal much of anything, and the pain would return if she spent too long without it - without him. She highly doubted that it was an accidental side effect. The nicotine was even more obvious, though she thought it an aggravatingly clever addition. After all, if she was quite literally addicted to the stuff, he didn't even need to keep encouraging her to drink it.

She scowled at the components in front of her and narrowly avoided setting the whole desk ablaze.

Nothing in the tea explained her memory loss, but she hardly found that surprising. Before he'd become an Auror, Thomas Graves had spent a few years in the Federal Bureau of Covert Vigilance and No-Maj Obliviation - a position he'd excelled in. He'd only transferred to the Department of Aurors because his time there swayed his political views distinctly leftward, until he found himself caught up in a building movement to repeal the Statute of Secrecy entirely. Or, at least, that was what he'd told her.

Clearly, his word meant nothing.

Rose settled into the stiff hotel bed with a scowl and a quill, resigned to spending the next few hours writing down everything she could remember.

It wasn't much. She'd barely managed to fill two and a half pages, and her head was pounding from strain by the end of it. Eventually, she came to the reluctant conclusion that she simply couldn't handle this one by herself. Patience wasn't one of her virtues, Graves would be expecting her back soon, and she had a stable full of beasts that she no longer trusted him with to think about.

So, she packed her things, checked herself out of the hotel, and floo'd to the only place she could think of: her parents' house.

Her dad was in the sitting room when she arrived, but she didn't have time for the rage on his face because she had her own to deal with, damn it; so before he could get a word in edgewise, she greeted him with an abrupt "I'm not getting married," and found herself promptly engulfed in a bear hug that lifted her toes from the rug.

"Oh, thank Godric," came her father's gruff reply, and she laughed because it was better than crying.

She squeezed back and took a few deep, steeling breaths before patting his back and pulling away to cast her eyes about the room. "Where's mum?"

"Where do you think?" Ron responded with a fond smirk, the tension seeping out of his shoulders with every second his daughter was back in her childhood home.

Rose smiled softly and went in for another hug. "Of course," she mumbled, "the library."

"Mm," he hummed his confirmation, and nodded with his chin on her head. "I've missed you, Rosie Posie. We all have."

"I know," she whispered, though even at that low of a volume she struggled to keep her voice from shaking. "I've missed you, too, dad." He rubbed her back comfortingly. She was sure he had a laundry list of questions he was dying to ask, but he knew her well enough to know that now wasn't the time; granted, he'd've done it anyway if he still thought she was marrying some bloke he'd never met. The thought roused her, and they pulled apart with one last pat on the shoulder. "I won't be gone so long next time. Never again," she shook her head, eyes glazed with tears she internally begged not to spill over, "promise."

"I'll hold you to that," he rasped, then cleared his throat and blinked back tears of his own. "Go on, pull your mother from her book for me. I'll put on some tea." He ruffled her already mussed hair and made his way for the kitchen. "Don't you dare try to sneak out of here without saying goodbye," he tossed over his shoulder at her, and Rose found laughing a little easier this time.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

She found Hermione, predictably, curled up in the window seat of their library with a throw blanket draped over her legs and a surprisingly thin book in her lap. Rose leaned against the archway that served as an entrance to the ever-growing room that somehow retained its quaint charm no matter how many extension charms they had to put on it whenever the bookshelves ran out of room. "Mum," she called out.

"Hmm?"

Rose snorted at the daydreaming eyes of her mother as they moved over the pages in front of her, one finger already poised to turn to the next one. "Mum," she said, more emphatically this time, then added in a singsong "I'm home" for good measure.

That finally brought Hermione back to earth, and she blinked over at her daughter once, twice before the book went flying, forgotten, to the floor a few feet away as the witch scrambled to grab hold of her daughter before she could disappear. "Rose! Oh, Rosie, we've been worried sick, where have you been?!" She swat at her daughter's arm, face red and mouth pouting. "Rose Minerva Granger-Weasley, don't you ever pull something like this on us again! Merlin, I could throttle you if I didn't miss you so much, I-"

"Mum," Rose said again, her hands moving to meet her mother's where they were busy fretting over her hair. The shake in her voice brought the older witch's eyes to hers.

"What's going on, dear?" she asked carefully, those too-keen brown eyes staring right into her soul.

"I-I..." she started, but her lip wobbled. "Mum, I think I need your help."

Hermione's eyes widened, and then Rose was cradled in her mother's arms and suddenly she couldn't stop the tears anymore. "Oh, Rosie," her mum soothed, rubbing her back and petting her hair. "Tell me everything."

So, she did.

As soon as she could breathe again.