Rose leapt out of bed.

Albus crawled.

Rose sprang around the room gathering shirts, skirts, robes, cat - all as silently as possible. Amy slept the sleep of the dead, but even the dead tended to notice when the cat started kneading the soft skin just above their breasts.

Albus tried to destroy the watch. Which was Scorpius's job. Albus was going to have words about shirking responsibilities.

Rose was a morning person, and therefore made it to the hospital wing for 8 o'clock, having had breakfast and finished that potions homework that she had meant to do yesterday.

Albus was not a morning person. Albus considered it impressive that he had made it to the hospital wing at all. Granted, it was with a steaming cup of tea in one hand and a buttery croissant in the other, but still. He was there, wasn't he?

Rose got to the hospital wing at 8 o'clock, which Madam Pomfrey considered uncouthly early. He is seriously injured, Miss Weasley. Come back at a more civilised hour and you can see him. The matriarch remained immovable, even after Rose's pleading, and especially after Rose's attempts at bribery.

Albus got to the hospital wing at 9 o'clock. Madam Pomfrey smiled at him when he asked to see Scorpius, and told him to go right ahead, dear. He even got to take his croissant in with him.

Rose slunk away.

Albus ambled in.


"When you told me that you had fallen hard, I was expecting something else."

Scorpius had brightened considerably at the sound of footsteps. Not that he was moping. Merlin's beard, never. But he had counted the tiles above his head seven times, and then again in Latin. He had made up stories about the dustmites, for God's sake.

Footsteps were exciting though. Footsteps that weren't his father's familiar tread, and without the click-clack of high heels, which ruled out Madam Pomfrey (and, incidentally, Naya, but Scorp was refusing to be dispirited.)

"Albus!"

"You moron."

Albus reached Scorpius and stood over him, and Scorp registered the relief in his friend's eyes moments before-

"Did you bring me a croissant? And tea? Did you bring me breakfast?" Scorpius could see the light sheen of grease that the flaky pastry was leaving on Albus's fingers. He could see the hazy steam drifting from the blue mug of tea. He could do everything but taste that glorious, sinful, croissant.

He was so busy salivating over the food that he missed Albus's remorseful eyes. "You're not allowed solid food, Scorp. I'm sorry, mate."

That hurt.

"Albus," Scorpius said, wounded, wrenching his gaze from breakfast. "Did you come in here to taunt me? That's astonishingly rude. I'm an invalid, here."

Albus shrugged, tore off a piece of pastry and popped it in his mouth. Glibly. Cheerfully. Like it was no big deal. Like it was not more painful than two bottles of Skele-Gro swimming around in his system.

"I have," Albus checked his watch with a swift movement that left Scorp very worried for the fate of his tea. "two minutes before I have to run to Defence Against. Do you really want to spend it arguing over something that you are never going to touch?"

"Like your mum?"

"Oh, good. And I was so worried that your sense of humour would have perished along with your sternum."

Scorpius laughed, struggling to sit upright. He gave up, collapsing against the sheets as his friend tore off another piece of the pastry.

"Albus," he said weakly, rapidly opting for Plan B. "I'm dying. I have just days to live, you know. The damage was so-"

"No, you aren't."

"So severe that-"

"No, it wasn't."

"I long for simple things, Albus. Clean air, long Hampshire nights, a woman's touch-"

"Nice, nice."

"A singular bite of that croissant. Potter - Don't walk away from me! Where are you going?!"

"Potter!"

"Albus!"

"Al!"

"You bastard."


When Rose was eight, she was taken to London for the first time. In the middle of Trafalgar Square, she stood at the base of Nelson's Column, and asked her mother how tall it was. She'd have asked her Dad, but her Mum knew things. Important Things.

"Fifty-one meters." Her mother had said without a moment's hesitation, whilst scrubbing dirt from Hugo's pert little nose.

Rose, eight years old, had nodded and gone: "So that's a meter taller than the big quidditch hoop."

Her mother had hummed in agreement, already rooting through her bag for something. An Important Something.

But her father had scooped her up onto his shoulders so that she could see better. She had dug her hands into his thick red hair and tilted her head riiiight back to see the top of the monument. She fancied that it touched the sky. She fancied that it could touch the stars. She would have liked to have asked the guy standing on top of the column whether he could catch a star for her in his hat, but she was eight and even then knew that that was a bit nonsensical.

Rose couldn't imagine falling from the top of Nelson's Column.

Time took it upon itself to drag it's heels. Rose had seen the team briefly at breakfast, and had promised them an update by the end of the day. Now, lunch was drawing to a close and Rose had not been near the hospital wing since being turned away that morning. Instead, she had been ensconced in a bloody meeting about whether or not the quidditch match could go ahead the following Sunday, and all she wanted to do was yell "If you would let me go and see my player, maybe I could give you an answer!"

But she didn't.

Rose Weasley was not the kind of girl to be yelling at the other quidditch captains. She was not the kind of girl to pout. She was not the kind of girl to obviously flout authority.

If Rose Weasley were the kind of girl who would make sure that all of their shoelaces came undone repeatedly throughout the day, and that their quills ran out halfway through a sentence, then that was just one of those things. Not handily at the end of a sentence. Not just before they started. Their quills would run out exactly in the middle.

Rose Weasley was not the kind of girl to let herself be deterred by weather or schedules.

Rose Weasley had always been the kind of girl to run along corridors.

Rose skidded to a stop outside of the hospital wing as soon as the halls filled with students heading for lunch. Not stopping to think, Rose put her shoulder to the huge oaken doors and pushed. Sticking her head in, she saw no sign of Madame Pomfrey or of her assistant Knott. Ha, Rose thought, point to Weasely.

Other than Scorpius's bed at the end of the room, the infirmary was deserted. All but skipping past the empty beds, Rose was not thinking about how different it was from the night before. She barely noticed that the sun was slanting through the high windows, when yesterday the storm had seemed relentless. She did not think about the fact that her face was unmarred by another's blood. Instead, Rose had a smile playing about her lips. Okay, yes, she had almost killed Scorp – but not completely! Only a little!

"Rosie?"


Scorpius had enough pain medication swimming around his system to knock out a dragon. Earlier, following Albus's rude exit, all Scorp could think about was breakfast. And now lunch. Food. Earlier, Scorpius had decided that actually, he felt fine. He had felt far worse in the past, but the Malfoy men had an absurdly low pain tolerance. It was embarrassing, really.

Earlier, Scorpius had reasoned that his bones had had all night to mend. He had brand new bones! They were stronger than the bones that he had had before! And when Knott had vetoed Scorp's request for a cinnamon whirl, Scorpius had taken it upon himself to swing his legs out of the bed to go and get himself one.

Knott had come running at Scorpius yell of pain, and found the blond lying on the floor, scowling at the ceiling.

"How many muscles do you imagine that we had to repair last night?" Knott had asked dryly, levitating Scorp back onto the bed.

Scorp was on fire. He couldn't see flames, but sweet mother of all things holy he could feel them.

"Six, Mr. Malfoy. We had to repair six muscles."

Scorpius lay there, eyes and jaw clenched shut. Knott seemed like a nice bloke, he didn't deserve what would happen if Scorp opened his mouth.

"How many muscles do you imagine that we'll be repairing for the rest of the morning?" Knott continued, unwinding the dressings from around Scorpius's torso. The healer traced his wand over the skin, the healthy pink of it had turned to black and blue and yellow. Scorp would have flinched if he could feel it, but his brain had had enough abuse and was taking a holiday.

"Six, Mr. Malfoy. We will be repairing six muscles."

Since then, Scorp hadn't really moved. He had been a dream patient. Whatever Pomfrey or Knott needed to do to him, he let them without complaint or lip.

They had knocked Scorpius out.

(He had come around to a note on his bedside table, saying "I don't work over-time. Stay put. Knott.")


"I am so sorry." Rose said miserably. "You look awful."

"That's ridiculous. I am never anything but gorgeous."

"Have you actually seen your face?"

"I broke my face?!" Scorp rolled his jaw, but nothing twinged. "How badly?!"

Rose's face, which had gone from ecstatic to grey as soon as she saw him, lightened. "Horrendously."

"The school will be hearing from my father." Scorp grumbled, but there was no weight behind it. "How much training have I missed?"

"None." Rose reached down to where her bag sat at her feet and pulled a packet of cards out. "Can't do an awful lot without our keeper."

"What about Bennet? Can't he sub?"

"We can't do an awful lot without our keeper." Rose repeated firmly, and Scorp would have been the first to admit that the show of faith warmed him. "I've got an hour before anyone bothers telling McGonagall I'm missing – how much money do you think I can rob you of in that time?"

Scorp lifted his arms and wriggled his fingers experimentally. Everything important was working, so – "Pittance, Weasley. Absolute pittance."

Rose grinned evilly, and started to deal.


"Oh, shit. One more round?"

"Didn't you say 'pittance'?"

"Weasley, can I make a confession? I'm trying to support a secret wife and three children, don't take all of my money."

"All in?"

"Fuck you, Rosie."

"Aw, don't make that face."

"You can't give yourself extra cards."

"But I need them."

"But you can't."

"Rosie, you're not listening. Watch my lips, okay? See them moving? They are telling you that I need those cards."

"Ha. No."

"Not again."

"You cheat!"

"You have no proof."

"Are you hiding cards in your cast?!"

"Stop trying to look under my clothes, Weasley."

"Hey, Scorp."

At some point, the sun had started to slip down the walls and the shadows had grown longer and longer, crawling across the floor and over the crisp white sheets of the infirmary beds.

"Mmm?" He wasn't falling asleep, not really. He was adjusting to life as a lesser, broker man and it was much easier to do that through slitted, sleepy eyes. Rose shifted next to him, because he had slapped the space on the bed next to him impatiently when she had gone to sit in the adjacent chair. Weasleys had a reputation of being fiendishly tricky to beat at cards, and if Scorp wasn't to lose the entire family fortune then he needed to be close enough to see her cards every now and again.

"Are you okay?"

Scorp opened his eyes some and glanced down at Rose. The question in and of itself wasn't remarkable, but it was the way Rose had asked it. She was looking up at him searchingly, and he had a feeling it extended beyond the fact that about 50% of his body was brand spanking new. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Weasley, you've taken all of my money, most of my dignity, and I've honestly never felt better. Nice to have a holiday. Get away from it all."

Rose's face split into a grin, even as she shook her head at him. "Did the Maldives not appeal?"

"I'm watching my carbon footprint." Scorp batted back, letting his eyes droop closed again. It struck him that Rose's shoulder was just the right shape to lean against. The muscles and bone had formed a really convenient napping spot, and maybe he would write somebody a thank you note. That was the polite thing to do, right?

"Responsible." Scorp heard cards shuffling and shook his head.

"Rose, the only thing I haven't given you is my wedding ring. I can't play another round."

"What a way to propose. No, I have to run – it's gone six."

"Nope."

Scorius didn't see so much as feel Rose's amusement. It saturated her voice as she said "Are you denying the time? Really?"

Dragging himself up straight again, Scorpius looked down at Rose. She had one eyebrow arched impishly, hands busy again – this time at straightening the playing cards. "It's a figment of your imagination. Time is a very flexible concept."

"True," Rose agreed slowly, playing along. "But guess how many detentions I have scheduled?"

"Too many?"

"Precisely, and Hugo always tells Mum, who always-"

"Threatens dismemberment, I remember."

Laughing lightly, Rose eased herself off of the bed. It was cold, Scorp realised grumblingly, without her. "Well, I'd hate for anyone to think I was hogging you whilst you were at a disadvantage"

Making a disparaging sound, Scorpoius watched as Rose's hands stuffed the cards back into the packet and then tugged at the straps on her messenger bag. "Al beat you to it this morning. He brought me breakfast and then ate it himself. It was almost romantic."

Rose snorted, dragging her fingers through her hair. "Wow. I bet Naya loved that."

"Couldn't say," Scorp said lightly, eyes on the glint of golden ring on Rose's middle finger. It had this pattern on it, and it looked like acorns? Or feet? Something pear shaped? "Haven't seen her."

The fidgeting hands stilled.

"Seriously?"

By now, Scorpius's bedside cabinet was stacked high with gifts that had either been sent over or delivered in person. Throughout the day, students had been dropping in and checking to make sure that Scorpius was a) still alive and b) not going to miss the match on Sunday. Because, as Sean Finnegan had explained when he and Amy had stopped off in between Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, there were only five full days to go before match day. Slacking at this point in the training programme was downright despicable, wouldn't you agree, Captain? ("A very fair point.") ("Hahaha-no.")

Scorpius had commented that he had never felt more loved after Albus had stuck his head in for the third time that day. But, now that Rose thought about it, the intimidating Ravenclaw hadn't been a part of the sea of faces. Rose had assumed that the prefect had already been to see Scorp, that she had been in before Rose had evaded capture after lunch.

Okay.

Okay.

Scorpius wasn't looking at her. His eyes were on a spot just above her head. "Scorp." Rose said lowly. "Malfoy."

He looked shifty. Rose had seen Scorpius most days since the September that she turned eleven. She had seen him in a myriad of different ways. This particular look was classed under "avoidance," subsection "nah."

"Okay, I'm going to g-"

"She probably hasn't even heard." Scorp said to the ceiling. He didn't want to look at Rose. "She's busy; That essay of Eschowich's? She'll be holed up in the library."

"Sure." Rose was noncommittal, but it wasn't her place. It wasn't. It was not. It- "But Scorp?"

Grey eyes met blue. Rose steeled herself, trying not to focus on the dark rings around Scorpius's eyes. "She should have been here." Softly. "You know she should have been here."

Scorpius's mouth tightened and he said nothing for a long moment. "That was uncalled for. How's your love life doing, Rose? Because by all means, the blokes you've dated have been the absolute fucking picture of perfection."

"I never once claimed that – Listen to yourself, Merlin! Is that possible? Or is your head too far up your own ass?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Am I speaking out of turn?!"

The pair glared daggers at each other for a few long seconds. "I'm leaving." Rose said abruptly, pushing her hair out of her face with a sharp, jerky motion.

"I think that would be for the best." Scorpius replied coldly. Later, he would berate himself for his timing. Because fine, nice comeback. But bad timing – Rose was already stalking away down the hall.

{{Apologies for the delay in getting this up! I ended up in Fiji for a couple of weeks, which was a surprise. Thank you for your wonderful comments, you make the world a brighter place :) x }}