A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow. ~Charlotte Brontë
***
Rose took a deep breath. She swayed lightly and followed his lead. The Duke of Bedford pulled her a little closer and she pretended not to notice. They turned about the room to the music with grace and ease. It was the last waltz of the evening and Rose's spirits were waning. Finally, she spoke.
"I was not expecting to see you here this evening, Your Grace." She stared into his cool eyes as she spoke calmly despite being flustered.
"And yet, here I am," he said rather amused. It was Wednesday and she had come to Almack's Assembly with her mother accompanied by her cousin Albus.
"Indeed, here you are," she agreed a bit testily. She had hoped to have a private accord with him prior to their dance. Perhaps allow him to fetch her some lemonade and sink away into an alcove where they could not be overheard. Alas, he had only shown his face during the last twenty minutes.
"You promised me your last waltz, did you not?" Lord Malfoy said, raising one blond eyebrow at her. Rose flushed.
She heard one of the women gossiping, Miss Jenkins, "Indecent, the way he is holding her!" Rose knew without a doubt that the her in question was one, Rose Weasley.
Never having been much for gossip, Rose turned her nose up. "I believe, sir, that you are holding me a little too near for proprieties comfort."
"But not yours?" he whispered. Rose looked away. She feared that if she were too close for her own comfort, there would be a lot more than mere propriety at stake. He did not loosen his grip. She glanced at him and found that he was smiling serenely down at her. "Is it true Miss Weasley that you never dance with anyone at assembly? Only your cousins?"
"I am afraid that it is true, my lord," Rose said feeling slightly ruffled. He simply smiled.
She did not smile back, only blinked as the dance ended.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Rose said curtsying, "For your kindness."
He took her hand and brushed his lips over it, "Call me Malfoy." Rose's heart jumped into her throat. She merely nodded and turned from him to clear the dance floor. Home… she needed to go home. She found her mother gossiping with Lady Lily's mother in law just off the assembly room.
"Mother, I fear I'm growing fatigued," Rose said after greeting the Dowager Lady Finnigan.
"Find your cousin, and we shall retire for the evening then, my love," Hermione Weasley said with a calm smile, "It is a growing late, and I fear that I have an appointment early tomorrow."
***
Rose was sitting in the morning parlor sipping a cup of tea when the first morning caller arrived. Her pink muslin gown was freshly pressed and perfect, "Young Lord Longbottom," the butler announced.
"Show him in, please," she said with a smile. Rose stood as Godric made his way into the room and met him halfway. He was wearing a light colored riding suit cut to fit his slightly plump frame. His sandy mustache covered his top lip and his grin was infectious.
He took her hands in his and squeezed, "Ah, the lovely Miss Weasley is a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dreary life."
"You flatter me, Godric," she said with a grin. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I forwent the tables last night. I fear I am on my way to the country for a week," he said ruefully, "My mother is playing matchmaker again."
Rose patted his hand in commiseration. "I believe my mother is doing the same. She had an early errand today." He groaned. Mrs. Weasley was undoubtedly out to tea with her mother in law, Grandmother Weasley, trying to devise a plot to see Rose wed by her twenty third birthday. Possibly even out with Longbottom's mother, the Dowager countess trying to match the two of them together. Rose shuddered at the thought.
"My sympathies," Longbottom said in a grave voice. They were friends, as close as male and female could be, but felt nothing romantic for one another. The thought of providing him with an heir, well, if she wished to retain her breakfast, she would not think on it long.
"Miss Weasley," the butler addressed from the open door, "Another caller has arrived, The Duke of Bedford. " Rose's eyes went round as tea saucers.
"Do you not wish to see him?" Longbottom asked. "I will make your excuses, Rose."
"No, no, I am fine. Give me another moment with Longbottom and then show him in, Wells," she nodded to the butler. Her hands were shaking, so she set her teacup down.
"Are you certain you are okay?"
"Yes. No need to worry, my dear Lord Longbottom," Rose spoke with confidence she did not feel. She glanced behind her to make sure her chaperone was where she had left her. The plump maid sat embroidering a pillow front, her eyes shrewdly assessing the pair every few stitches.
He glared at her for a moment and spoke quietly, "Is Malfoy courting you?"
"No!" she said with more enthusiasm than she had meant. He was not courting her, was he? Rose was not entirely sure. She did not wish to be courted, not by any man.
"Promise me, Rose, you will guard yourself accordingly. He is not known for being a gentleman," Longbottom said with emphasis.
"He is a rogue, a scoundrel. Yes, I've heard it before," Rose said somewhat annoyed.
"He is, and you'd do well not to forget it," he said fiercely tapping his boot with his cane, "I only say these things for your benefit, Rose. Only out of concern for your reputation."
She smiled at him and stood as excused himself. He kissed her hand and bowed to her. She glared at her maid, daring her to say a word, and gave him a hug. "It is appreciated. Have a safe journey, Godric. Perhaps you will see my dear cousin James. He's departed for his Devonshire estate two days past."
"I shall pay him a call," he bowed again and grinned.
Longbottom turned to the door and met Lord Malfoy with a curt nod. The contrast between the two was quite striking. Longbottom was short and stocky, while Malfoy stood tall and broad. One was light, while the other dark. Godric turned to her and said, "Take care in my absence, Rose."
Rose smiled, "I will. Farewell my lord."
He waited until Lord Longbottom had left the room before turning to her in all his splendid glory. His unfashionably long white hair was tied back in a black ribbon. His black riding clothes were starched and neat. "Good morning, Miss Weasley," Lord Malfoy said bowing to her.
"Please, have a seat, Your Grace," she motioned to the green velvet divan where he took his seat Straight-backed, Rose perched herself in a round floral chair to his right.
His eyes held hers for a moment, "Malfoy or Bedford, if you please, Miss Weasley? I tire so easily at answering to my title."
Rose answered with a curt nod, "As you wish, my lord." She folded her hands across her lap and lowered her eyes to the ground, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Lord Malfoy?"
"I wished to issue an invitation to the theater tonight," he looked around the room, "Is your mother out?"
"She is. An early appointment," Rose said with a smile that did not quite meet her eyes. She smoothed the muslin of her morning gown across her lap, "I fear we have already made an engagement with the Lord and Lady Potter to attend The Gardens this evening."
"Perhaps tomorrow evening?" he said smoothly.
"Perhaps."
"You will send word?"
"I will, my lord," Rose agreed.
"Would you be agreeable to a drive around the park this afternoon?" he asked in the silence. He looked baffled at his own forwardness, but composed himself quickly.
"I should like that very much," Rose said smiling demurely.
"Then I shall call again at two," Malfoy rose and bowed over her hand, "Until then, my precious Rose." She fluttered her eyelashes. She felt faint. Surely her stays were on too tight.
Rose bolted upright from sleep her breath coming in rapid spurts. Flinging open her bed hangings, she jumped from her bed and began to pace at the foot. The sun was shining in the wake of the storm, but the winter chill permeated her quarters. These dreams had been plaguing her every night for the past week, and in their wake, she'd been doing some soul searching. She wrapped her heavy flannel dressing gown about her shoulders and put her slippers on.
Surely there must be something to be done for it. She'd stopped reading her romance novels, and had stopped paying attention in NEWT level History of Magic where they were covering the Regence era Goblin rebellions. She'd even given up chocolate before bed, but to no avail. It wasn't that the dreams were unpleasant, they were far from that. But they were quite unsettling. She'd started blushing whenever Scorpius looked her direction. The other night at dinner, he'd caught her eye across the Great Hall and she'd put her sleeve in the gravy. Somehow, some way, this had to stop.
In her mind, she'd even started calling Scorpius, Lord Malfoy. It was bloody annoying to sit across from him in Potions and remember how good he'd looked in her dreams wearing a tight black waistcoat, dinner jacket and starched cravat. Good enough to eat, she recalled with a groan.
She blamed her mother.
If Rose had not been forced to read Jane Austen at a young age, and then watch old films at her grandmother's house during the summer… she'd have never been able to imagine these things so clearly. And if it hadn't been for these silly Muggle romances her mother kept sending her, Rose would not be contemplating the sensation in her stomach when Lord Malfoy brushed his soft lips across her knuckles. Nor would she have realized the scorching effect it had when she was pressed up against him.
And what was worse still, was that while all these things were going on, she was certain that Scorpius didn't have a clue. Since that night in the Astronomy tower when he admitted that he didn't think of her as family, Scorpius had been keeping his distance outside of classes.
And Rose missed him.