*** -continuation of Rose's dreams
That night, Rose falls asleep in front of the licking fire, basking in the warmth of the darkness. Scorpius watches her from the other armchair, the even rise and fall of her chest.
Voldemort's hunting you, he reminds himself, his father's own words spoken. You'll put her in danger. He remembers seeing his own frightened reflection in his father's steely gray eyes, trying not to believe it and knowing that he has no choice. He remembers hearing his father tell him that Voldemort will attack the people closest to him, one by one, until he's stripped of his life and love – until he's no more than Voldemort himself.
And the whole time, Scorpius cannot manage to choke out the one word stuck in his throat – why?
He stares at Rose, knowing that what he did today was for the best, knowing that her broken heart will be better broken than not pulsing at all. Stay away from her, he tells his heart.
But
she twitches in her sleep, her eyebrows creased in frustration. And
when he feels like he can't bear it anymore, Scorpius carefully
makes his way to where Rose lies, and adjusts her so that he's
sitting beside her. Immediately, she stirs, and Scorpius freezes,
both wanting and dreading to be caught where he is. But she goes
still again, settling her arm around Scorpius's midsection, leaning
on his shoulders. He can't help but absorb her scent, feeling her
soft hair gliding over his bare arms, watching the dancing shadows of
her eyelashes spindle across her cheeks, light as thistledown.
"Scorpius," she whispers, still lost in sleep.
She
does this with the confidence that Scorpius is there, with the
security that it's him. And holding Rose in his arms, Scorpius
can't help but think about what will happen when he's no longer
there to catch her.