Ok, so this is the second part to my 350th fic, and I hope you enjoy it.

I was originally planning on updating on my birthday (tomorrow) but I realised that I may be busy, so have it today!

Dedicated to anyone at RoseScorpius Fans (Forum) which any self-respecting Scorrose fan should be part of. :D

Weeks pass from when Rose left Scorpius (again) and after a day or two off, citing period pains as the reason why she couldn't work, Rose is back on the corner, getting picked up by clients as usual—no Scorpius, though.

Angela doesn't believe that he didn't give her any money at Trafalgar Square, even though it's the truth, and when he doesn't reply to her phone calls, she admits defeat, saying that Rose was a stupid girl for not taking the money on the first night—but Rose doesn't care. She was an idiot for going back out with him when all she wanted to do was to get on with this new life…and there's no going back to it, now.

Even when she's writing essays for the classes she's taking, she can only think of Scorpius, and soon she's unable to sleep, tossing and turning and only thinking of his face in that moment she told him that she couldn't be with him: it's so clear in her mind that it seems like only yesterday, when in fact, it's already been almost three weeks.

Things seem to keep on breaking in her flat, and soon, the money runs out; she's been working less than usual due to the exam pressure—she's finishing her GCSE English in only another three weeks, in time for the November exam season, and she's trying to ensure that she knows enough of the correct literary terms to be able to pass it with the best grade—and anyway, Angela's not been so keen on her ever since the client issue. Whenever her boss tries to discuss the client's details, Rose clams up, so now, Angela knows not to bother—she just doesn't trust Rose any more.

Rose can't blame her.

She's become even more of a mess, dreaming of magic, finding herself thinking of the spell she'd use to clean the dishes, the spell she'd use to get the knot out of her hair, and even the one that would repaint the flaking ceiling in her bedroom. Rose realises just how much she misses everyday magic, not just the spells that would save her in a fight, but the magic that makes witches and wizards' lives easier to manage; who needs electricians and plumbers when there's a spell that can fix it?

Some days, she finds her feet taking her in the direction of Diagon Alley and she has to stop herself getting within two hundred metres of the Leaky Cauldron; if she was any closer, she'd run in and her disappearance would be no more. She can't go back there, to a world where she doesn't fit in any longer, and a world filled with things that made her want to leave in the first place.

Muggle London is her home now. And so, unless someone brings her a wand, no magic will be used—no magic can be used.

The desire to cast a spell, however, doesn't leave Rose, and she finds herself holding her pens as wands, pretending to levitate things into the air. They don't work, though; her magic isn't strong enough any longer to do spells without a wand, so nothing will move.

One day, she comes home from the college, the night before her exams, to find that she's been left a parcel at the door of her flat.

Intrigued, she picks it up and walks inside, the parcel in her hands, and winces as the door's shutting causes another piece of the plaster to fall off the wall; the place is falling apart, just like Rose's mind.

Rose quickly opens the package to discover a note, and…a wand. Her wand.

Scorpius.

He knows where she lives, and he's given her the wand she had from eleven years old—and that scares her. Though, somehow, Rose manages to make herself calm down long enough to read the note:

I don't know where you live; I had to use magic to send you it.
Sorry.
Don't bin your wand; use it—even just to cast the one spell you want to.

Yours forever

Scorpius

Rose can't help but let a tear fall from her eye as she realises just how much she misses Scorpius Malfoy.

~x~

Life goes on, and soon, Rose has taken her English GCSE and half of her Maths one, and she's just starting on something to do with Science, because apparently everyone wants all the core subjects passed, but she's managing a bit better now. She's still limiting her use of magic to one or two spells a week—more than that would basically be admitting she wants to go back to a world she's not sure about—yet she doesn't have to spend her money on maintenance men or repairs, so the only outgoings she has are rent and food. Clothes can be mended, appearances can be magically changed, and with the knowledge her ISA is accessible in only six more months, Rose feels as though things may finally be looking up for her.

But it's not.

She's missing Scorpius and her family more and more as every evening passes, and it's getting harder for Rose to resist writing a letter to her parents' house and explaining everything that's gone on—or even just going there, now she can Apparate once again—because she swore that she wouldn't bring her parents into this. She can't…at least not until she's got a decent job and is getting on with her life. One thing they can never know is about this…this blip on the radar that's lasted over a year now—prostitution isn't something the Potter-Weasleys would exactly endorse, and even though they'd support her, Rose knows that they'd always look at her with pity in their eyes.

She's in this on her own.

The one contact she has with Scorpius is a quick Patronus message—all the range with the younger generation, it being the equivalent of a Muggle text message—where she says, thanks for the wand, and watches as the eagle flies out of the window. It's not long before he's sent a reply, saying, no problem, I figured you would need it…here's my mobile number—the person in the shop told me that's what it's called; I didn't pay attention in Muggle Studies—so if you ever want to talk to me…you have the choice.

She couldn't not write down the number, but deliberately puts it in a notebook in her bag, rather than in her phone's address book, just so that if she gets the urge to call him, it'll take a longer time to find the number, then dial it in, so she can decide if she really wants to talk to him. It's the only solution she can find, because the idea to dispose of the number and never, ever call Scorpius is alien to Rose. It's something that she can't do, no matter how much she wants to separate her lives again.

Now that he's given her the wand—now he's been in her life, really—Rose doesn't think that she can go back to the life she was building before; it's got to be a mix of wizards and Muggles. She realises now that it was stupid for her to cut everything out of her life, because it's not only herself she's damaged, but her entire family, and Scorpius, too; she doesn't know what's gone on whatsoever, and that hurts. Lucy could have given in to her drug addiction, Victoire and Teddy could have actually tied the knot, and Dom may have managed to admit that she loves Katie Ford—but Rose doesn't know.

And she won't know.

There's no going back to a wizarding life, but there's also no going back to the blissful (almost) eradication of magic from her life; the wand in her possession is proof of that, at least. This strange, eclectic mixture of the two is certainly something she never considered before—it's just deciding what is enough to take from both worlds that's the issue.

Yet she holds her strength and, somehow, manages to resist calling Scorpius. Rose thinks that having him in her life is just too much of a step towards magic for now—when she has a good job, maybe. But not until she's got enough to give him as he has to give her.

~x~

Then, one day, it transpires that Rose needs to ring him.

"Rose Weasley, you are under arrest for solicitation," one of the officers arresting her says, cuffing her wrists behind her back. "You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you say may be given in evidence." He reads Rose her rights before pushing her into the back of the police van, her bag still tied around her wrist.

She was standing on the corner, with Angela and Georgia, one of the new girls, when all of a sudden, a police car rounded the corner. There was no escape, at least for Rose—heels aren't exactly practical for running in—and so that's how she's came to be locked in the back of a police van with Angela, and another girl she recognises from a different corner, who goes by the name of Sweet Sally.

Rose doubts that's her real name, but the way that she snapped at Rose when they were on the same side of the street a few weeks back makes her scared to ask the girl any questions.

And so they're transported to the nearest police station, Rose wondering whether or not it'll look strange for her to have a piece of wood in her bag—she definitely doesn't have the ability to cast a spell on those holding her, due to the CCTV cameras that will undoubtedly litter the building, and that's a bummer.

Processing takes less time than Rose would have thought, being a stage where she has to hand over her personal belongings and give her information to one of the members of staff in the room.

"The system's down; put all the information there and Lucy will process it tomorrow morning," one of the more senior officers says to the man taking Rose's name. "And give them all their phone call—we've got the Governor coming tomorrow and I don't want there to be riff-raff hanging around."

Rose's cheeks colour at the thought of being deemed 'riff-raff' and she's about to say that she's the daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, who live in a mansion-sized house in Surrey, before she recalls that she's been caught, dressed as a prostitute, trying to get clients to sleep with. She isn't classy; she's the scum London Council want to try and get rid of.

She's nobody, if you look at the big picture.

"I…I have the number in a notebook in my bag—I can't remember it—so can I just take a look?" she asks the man she's standing with, flashing him a smile. "Please, sir…he's the only person I can call; he's the only person I have," she presses when he doesn't look as though he's going to let her look in the bag.

Finally, his face softens. "Have the bag back for a minute," he says, handing her it. "Get the number—and get it quickly. The boss is tetchy tonight."

Rose doesn't say anything, merely begins digging in her bag for the book, thankful that she put the number in here because if she hadn't, she'd be trapped in here until her ISA matured and she could get the money out herself.

She finds the number and dials it, putting the book back into the bag and handing it back to the officer—PC Johnson, she sees—with a smile of thanks.

And she waits.

The phone rings and rings, almost at the answerphone message by the time Scorpius answers. "Hello?" he says sleepily, evidently not recognising the number. "I…I did answer this, right?"

Rose has to laugh; he has no idea how to use it, evidently, and she supposes that she's lucky that he actually did answer it. Something tells her that the one phone call rule holds.

"Yes it did," she replies, suddenly nervous. Her hands start to sweat and she almost drops the receiver. "It's me, Scorpius. I'm in trouble—I need some help."

Scorpius suddenly sounds wide awake. "Rose, is that you? Where are you?"

"I'm down at the police station near to Trafalgar Square," she says slowly. "And I need you to bail me out—please, Scorpius. I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"I'll be there in ten minutes," Scorpius responds, hanging up the phone as soon as he finishes speaking, though Rose has a feeling that this is an entirely accidental coincidence.

"Thank you," is what she says to the police constable who's standing with her as she makes her call. "You helped me and you didn't need to—thank you."

He doesn't say anything in response as he leads her to a holding cell, where she waits for Scorpius, her hands balled into fists as she tries to calm herself down. It's only been a few months since she told him to never bother her again, and even less since he gave her back her wand, and the entire time she's been dreaming of him. And now she needs him, like literally needs him.

This time, Rose isn't sure if she has the ability to send Scorpius away, if she can stop herself being selfish and wanting him in her life.

~x~

He's there before she can even begin to properly process what's happened and what she's going to do when she's free, signing the forms to get her released and handing over the bail money.

"Make the sheet with my name on it disappear—it's in that pile," Rose whispers to Scorpius as she hugs him. His smile is incandescent as he sees her, and Rose feels something in her stomach; it feels as though it's been merely minutes and yet eons since she last saw him, and that's strange enough in itself. "And Scorpius, thank you."

He smiles again, wider if that could be possible. "I told you, Rosie, I'll do anything for you—whenever you need me, I'll be there." These words only serve to confirm something that she's been trying to dissuade herself from believing: Scorpius Malfoy is still completely, one hundred percent in love with her, just as she is with him, and he's not going to give up. He's been around for ten years that he could have spent with someone else, just waiting for her; he found her when nobody else did—he's in this for the long haul.

She smiles and breaks apart from him, taking her bag from the PC who took it from her before moving to the door to breathe in the early morning breeze. Scorpius joins her a few moments later, tucking a piece of paper into his jacket that she presumes to be her information.

"I'm afraid that I could only Apparate over here, as I was back in Surrey, so we can either do that to get back to your flat or we could try and get a taxi," he says, sounding apologetic, but Rose shakes her head. Even though it's late—or early, depending on how you look at it—there are still little cafés open all over the place, and Rose spies one almost one hundred metres away.

"Let's go for a coffee—my treat, since I need to repay you for doing that for me," she says quietly, beginning to walk over there, Scorpius hot on her heels.

"You don't owe me anything," he says just as quietly as they enter the shop.

They order their drinks and take them from the sleepy looking waitress, taking a seat in the furthest away corner so that they've got less chance of being overheard, and then Rose speaks.

"You saved me—again," she murmurs, and Scorpius laughs. "Wait, what are you laughing at? It's not funny!"

"Sorry," is Scorpius' response, still chuckling. "But you're being a little overdramatic, Rosie; you were in jail, not exactly in a death camp waiting to fight to the death."

"That's a Hunger Games reference…oh wait, you don't know what that is, never mind," she begins on a Hunger Games discussion, but then notices a blank look passing over his face and she realises that it was merely a coincidence. "No, but if you hadn't been there to release me, I wouldn't have gotten out! And it would have looked a little suspicious on the CCTV if I got out a piece of wood and then started blasting myself out, wouldn't it?"

He smiles and nods. "I guess you're right, as usual," he says, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, where does this leave us? I'm supposing that you're going to thank me again and then tell me to piss off and go back to doing whatever idiotic and boring thing I was doing before you called, right?"

She hesitates. "No," Rose says finally, her eyes on the table rather than looking at Scorpius. "I don't want that, Scorpius. Things are still so confused and I think that I need to be distant from the wizarding world still, at least until I get a decent job, but…I need you. You're the one who helped me here, the one who started the process of saving me—and I love you."

She didn't mean to say the final three words, they just sort of popped out, but she can't take them back now, and slowly, Rose raises her gaze to meet the man's sitting opposite her; he looks dumbfounded.

Then, after what seems like an age, Scorpius replies, "I love you, too. I've loved you every day since you left, without doubt." She doesn't doubt him; there's something in his tone that makes Rose believe him.

They both take a sip of their drink at the same time, Rose working out just how this can work; she needs to keep him distant until she gets her job and is settled in wherever she gets to, and then…then she can get close to him and hopefully (possibly) get the chance to be in contact with her family again after her self-imposed separation.

"I need to finish my education first before we're anything," she says suddenly, looking up from the table once again. "I've taken some exams to give me qualifications to try and get a job, and if I pass, I can get straight out into the job market," she clarifies, noting that her mention of getting an education confused Scorpius.

"Ahh…how long will that take?" he asks, reaching out for her hand, which she lets him take without an issue. "But Rose, seriously, we need to talk about…about this. About what you've been through."

Anger surges through Rose, even though she knows it's not rational, and she snatches her hand back from Scorpius as though he's made it burn. "We don't need to talk about anything!" she snaps. "You found me, for which I'm grateful, you know I am, but we don't need to talk about it. Really, we don't need to talk about it."

"But, Rose, you've been with people for money," he presses, and Rose has to suppress a laugh: Scorpius really doesn't get that she doesn't want to talk about it, does he? "I know that I have no idea what it must have been like, but…but I want to help you with it."

She stands up, her eyes blazing with anger, her entire frame shaking and she sets the cup down on the table with such force that the liquid inside sloshes onto the table. "We don't need to discuss anything!" she yells. "I'm going to go now, and I'm going to go and get some sleep before my final exam in a couple of days, and then I'm going to pass and get a job and maybe then I'll call you…if you can stop being such a prejudiced, pretentious bastard, that is!"

She stalks towards the door at this point, ignoring all the words yelled after her, and when she feels Scorpius' presence at her back, she slips the heels off and breaks out into a run, heading straight out in front of the traffic. Cars swerve to avoid her, their horns beeping in outrage at her jumping right in front of them, but Rose just shoots them the finger, trying desperately to try and get as far away from Scorpius as possible.

As she runs, Rose realises that she's in the wrong and that he didn't actually say anything wrong; sure, he was a bit pushy, but if he had been in her position, she would have wanted him to know that he had the chance to talk to her whenever he wanted to. And he wasn't being a pretentious or prejudiced; she had just chosen those adjectives and decided that they fitted the insult—but, really, they didn't, and she's just pushed him away.

Her pride will stop her speaking to him until she's got something to show for her endeavours in the classroom, until he has hopefully forgotten about the horrors she's been putting herself through for fourteen or so months. She doubts he will, and it'll be a struggle in the future to stop herself reacting like this.

Rose is just going to have to stop herself contacting Scorpius until she's gotten everything she wanted to achieve in the Muggle world—everything besides a boyfriend.

~x~

After that night, Rose quits the 'business'; she doesn't want to have to explain to Angela how she managed to avoid even getting a blot on her record, let alone a court hearing, and anyway, she's done with this part of her life. It was only meant to be temporary and it's already lasted for far too long—when she thinks about it, she feels sick about what she's done, so Rose tries not to think.

She also rips the page out of her notebook that has Scorpius' number on it, burning it with the tip of her wand and watching as the cinders get swept up by her magical sweeping brush; it's burnt into her mind now, the eleven digits, and she's not going to forget them—unfortunately. She doesn't need a physical reminder that he's out there, waiting for her, does she?

Rose tries to give herself a fresh start; she charms the walls to be a different colour, she redesigns the furniture to be fitting for a twenty-something year old rather than being the cheapest things in the charity shop. The only thing she struggles to buy is food, given that she can't charm it into existence due to some law her parents tried to teach her about, and with her lack of income, it's a bit of an issue to survive, sometimes, but Rose buys things that she can multiply and store in the cupboard for a long time, so it's fine.

She's living less of a Muggle and more of a magical life every day that passes, and sometimes that irritates her to the point that she wants to throw her wand away, but she doesn't; if she did, then she would be back to square one, with a flat that she can't afford and no food in the fridge, and that's something she can't face.

The time flies, Rose spending every possible second in the college, taking classes designed for people almost half her age, but she doesn't care; it's interesting to learn the Muggle opinion of so many things, to question ideas that she was taught in Muggle Studies and to learn what chemistry and Muggle history is.

She takes exams in everything she's studied and it's an anxious two months' wait to get the results, but she finally does, and they're all something called an A*, a grade she equates to an O in her world's exams.

"Well done!" one of her professors—teachers, she reminds herself for the thousandth time—says, reaching out to give her a hug. "Since you're officially no longer a student and we're both single, would you like to go out for a drink with me?" he asks, and Rose hesitates for a second: he's handsome, gorgeous, and if Scorpius didn't exist, there'd be no question about it.

But he does. She still loves him with all her heart, even if she hasn't spoken to him for another three months now, and she knows that it can't be long before she's got a job and feeling as though she's right to call him into her life.

She's not just doing this because she was mad at him—she knows that she was wrong to be so judgemental about his reasoning for saying what he did, and why he did it—but because she doesn't want to be dragging him into a life which isn't perfect. Or, at least, liveable; she wants him to enter her life when she's emotionally ready to have someone to be with for life, rather than someone to help her pick up the pieces of her shattered one.

Rose wants someone who can take her home to her parents and for them to be happy, neither of them embarrassed about the other's life, and that can't happen until she has a respectable job doing something that doesn't involve removing one's clothes: journalism.

"I'm sorry, but I can't," Rose says finally, realising that her teacher is waiting for an answer—she's drifted into her own world again. "I've been in love with someone for fifteen years, and only now do I think that I deserve him. Thank you for everything, though," she continues, noting how Mr Finch's face falls at the mention of her being in love with someone.

Rose runs from the college site, the results in her hand, and she heads straight for The Times' headquarters; that was the paper Scorpius referenced that first night in Muggle London together, and that's where she wants to start her hunt.

She doesn't know how long it will take. All she knows is that she hopes that soon, she'll be worthy of someone as whole as Scorpius Malfoy.

~x~

Three weeks later, and she has an internship at The Times; it's not paying a lot more than her old occupation was, but at least it's legal and it's a foot in the door, which is something more than she had this time last year. All she does is photocopy and make drinks, but sometimes they let her proofread the articles before they get sent to be printed, and once, when every single journalist was either out of the country or busy, they let her write a 300 word review of one of the up-and-coming artist's albums. It was in the back of the paper, just before the sports and after the sex advice column, but it was something, and Rose has her article framed on a wall.

She just doesn't know how to approach getting Scorpius back.

Thirty four times now, she's tried to call him, just to chicken out before she's dialled the last digit, and thirty four times she's chastised herself for being such a chicken. It's as though she has a block in her mind saying that she can't contact him, because she pushed him away, and no matter what, she can't fight past it—and that worries Rose. She needs to prove herself so much that maybe she's not ever going to think that she's enough for Scorpius.

One day, however, it comes that she needs him.

Again.

It's ten pm on a Sunday night and the entire journalism team bar the printers have gone home, ready to get back to writing articles and columns tomorrow, and Rose is just finishing off some work she was meant to do earlier that day, but forgot, when she slips.

And, unfortunately, she slips from a height of about two metres, onto a concrete floor, her leg, naturally, getting trapped under a pile of papers that just happen to fall to the floor as she does.

It feels broken, or at least sprained, and Rose doesn't think she can get it out of the papers without damaging it further, and her wand is in her bag, which is three floors down from where she is.

All she has is her phone.

All she has is one number.

"Hello?" Scorpius' voice answers the phone, sounding just as it did that night in the jail: sleepy, as though he's about to head to bed.

"Hi, um, Scorpius?" she says hesitantly, suddenly worried that he's moved on and doesn't care about her any longer and is now with someone called Julie and expecting a baby called Julian—her mind begins to ramble. "It's Rose…"

"Rose!" he says, his voice instantly perking up, making Rose hope that her imagination has just been running wild with her. "What…what can I do for you?" he's hesitant all of a sudden, and Rose can't blame him.

"I, uh, well, I'm sorry for being such a bitch all those months ago," she says in one breath, squeezing her eyes closed. "But I've got myself sorted now, and I was wondering if you could maybe come and help me out—again?"

He sighs, a deep, great, mocking sigh that Rose can tell is faked. "I'm always saving you, aren't I, Miss Weasley?" he laughs, and she can't help but laugh, too, even though her ankle is killing her.

"Hey, I'm just helping you out with this hero complex you've always had!" she replies, and suddenly, it feels natural. It feels like it did before she left home, effortless like breathing—and that's how she wanted it to be. "I'm in the photocopying room in The Times, on floor twenty three. Feel free to Apparate right in—oh!" before she's even finished giving instructions on where she is, there's a crack and Scorpius has appeared before her.

He gives her a cocky grin, one that she hasn't seen in a decade (and that hurts her heart, so she tries not to think about it) and he waves his wand lazily to remove the newspapers. "Episkey!" he says, pointing his wand now at her leg, and there's a burning sensation that passes over Rose. It disappears and with it goes the pain.

"I…thank you," Rose says, suddenly awkward now she doesn't know what to say or do. "You've saved me more than once, Scorpius—you're the reason why I'm here."

Without a word, Scorpius crosses the distance between them and helps Rose to her feet before wrapping her in his arms, pressing his lips to her neck. "I've missed you so, so much, Rosie, you don't know how much." His voice sounds as though he's being torn into pieces, and Rose instantly feels guilt for what she's done to him.

It's not just her who has been affected from the last decade; it's Scorpius, her parents, her brother, her aunts and uncles, her cousins and her friends—she's not been as alone in the grief, in the pain, as she thought. She's been selfish, self-centred and completely egoistical, thinking that nobody cared about her but herself, and that's wrong.

"I am so, so sorry," she whispers into Scorpius' ear, tears streaming down her face as the waterworks burst open. "I should never have left you, not when I caused so much pain and heartbreak and everything, oh god, I'm sorry!"

"It's alright, Rosie-Posie," he says quietly, rubbing his hand up and down her back, his voice its usual, soothing self. "You're safe now. But you needed to do this to find who you are—and look at you now! You've got a chance to be a world-class journalist—or you will do, at least—and you're doing good, right?"

She nods slowly. "Yes…but I need you, now. Scorpius, you're the one who got me here; without you…without you, I would—"

"Be here," Scorpius cuts in, pulling away from Rose so that he can cup her face in his hands. "You don't need a man to get to where you are, Rose; you would have gotten here eventually. I just love you, and I needed to make sure that you were ok—you would have been fine, even if I didn't barge into your life."

Somehow, Rose manages to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks (or maybe she's cried her quota of tears, she doesn't know) and smiles. "I love you, Scorpius. And I love this job—I love my life now, and it's not Muggle or magical; it's both. And I don't know if that's safe or normal or even if it can last…"

"Hey, hey!" he murmurs, noting that she's about to start crying again. "It will work because we'll make it work; we can get a flat together in the city, near to here but not too near—you don't want to see your workplace out of the window, believe me—and then we can live together. We can go visit your parents and I'll ask your dad if I can marry you, because I know already that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Rose smiles wider, the tears dripping onto her clothes now, and she wipes them away before putting a hand on her beau's face, pulling him closer to her. "I say yes already," she murmurs, closing her eyes. "You've saved me from everything, and even from myself, and I don't know if I could live without you any longer, Scor. So, I say yes, yes one thousand times, even though you've not even asked the question yet!"

He laughs and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "That's something else that I've always loved—and missed—about you, Rose Weasley: you always jump the gun. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

Their lips meet, and for the first time in a decade, Rose feels completely and utterly at home. Finally, she thinks, finally I have the life I want—and I got it all by myself.

(She decides to ignore the hiccups along the way.)

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