When Rose awoke the next morning, the sky was a dull gray and snow whirled through the air. Rolling over and seeing Scorpius's sleeping face, though, warmed her more than any amount of sunshine could have done. She took advantage of the moment and stared unabashed. So much of what she saw was just as she remembered - the tiny wrinkle between his eyebrows that always appeared when he slept and the green pajama bottoms covered in fluttering snitches. But then there was so much new - his bare chest and his hair falling over his eyes and the way his hand seemed to reach out for her.
Carefully, she slipped from beneath his quilts, wincing when her feet hit the cool floor. With a wave of her wand, she warmed the wood and with a swish conjured a pair of toasty slippers. She knew she should get dressed - it was the dead of winter after all - but she found strange comfort in rolling up the sleeves of the too-big pajama top. She tapped her wand to her hair and it wound into a long, red plait.
Scorpius's flat was spacious and full of light. Every available wall in the large living room was covered in bookcases. A large green leather sofa sat atop a muted rug with armchairs grouped around small tables. Scattered about were pictures in antique silver frames, mostly of her and Albus, some of his parents, and a few of Hogwarts and a memorable Quidditch game or two. Down the hall was another bedroom, clearly being used as a small office, and she smiled to see that the desk that sat in the middle of the room had a chair on each side.
Resisting the urge to curl up before the fireplace with a book, Rose made her way to the kitchen. It was warm and well appointed, if a bit on the small side. She couldn't perform a household spell to save her life, but her dad had insisted that she learn how to make breakfast the muggle way. ("Trust me, if you're ever stuck in a forest for months on end you're going to be glad you can fry an egg.")
As she fumbled around Scorpius's little kitchen, she paused to dash off a quick note to let her parents know that she would be home for tea that afternoon. Scorpius's eagle owl, Archimedes, held out a foot regally, giving a dignified hoot before soaring out the window. While the kettle boiled and she monitored her scrambling eggs, she thought about the previous night with a smile. The snogging had been excellent, of course, but it was the talking and laughing and closeness that had filled the eighteen-month old hole in her heart.
Rose was just pouring boiling water into a little brown teapot when she heard a crash from the bedroom. Seconds later, Scorpius came stumbling down the hall, his eyes darting about the room and his cheeks flushed red.
"Scorpius?" she questioned, and he sagged against the doorframe with relief at the sound of her voice. "Breakfast," she said, waving her wand and toasting the bread on the table.
He didn't respond, just walked across the room and pulled her to him. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "I thought I'd imagined last night."
"Don't you mean dreamed it?" she asked and gave him a teasing smile.
"All my dreams are of you," he said with a solemnity that took her aback before she saw the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Git." Rose said, pressing her cheek against his bare chest.
"Well, almost all of them."
She stretched up to brush his lips with hers. He caught at her shoulders before she could move away, pulling her bottom lip between his and deepening the kiss. With a gentle push to his still-bare chest, she separated them. "The eggs will get cold."
"Sod the eggs," he murmured against her throat, his lips trailing down across a stretch of exposed shoulder.
"Scorpius," she objected with a laugh. "I need to eat."
"Fine," he said, sitting down and tucking into his eggs. "But eat fast."
Pouring herself a cup of tea, she slid into the seat across from him and propped her feet on his leg. "I can't stay here all day. I need to sort out where I'm going to live."
"And I still say you're being ridiculous," he argued. "This isn't like when normal people start seeing each other, Rose. I've spent a year and a half without you. I want to wake up and see your face and fall asleep to your teeth grinding and - "
"I do not grind my teeth," she said, appalled.
"Suit yourself," he said, taking a bite of toast. "But you need a flat. I have a flat. It seems rather obvious."
In her mind, she thought of all the arguments against living with him and quickly realized most of them were rubbish. She took a sip of tea and regarded him before nodding. "You know, you're right."
He froze, fork halfway to his mouth, and stared.
"You are! I've spent the past year and a half living alone. So have you. And maybe we have just started dating or seeing each other or whatever normal people call it, but who cares about that rubbish."
"You're serious," he said slowly. "You really mean it?"
"Yes, I think so," she replied, finishing her toast. "It's the logical thing to do."
Scorpius snorted. "Logical. Right. And it has nothing to do with the fact that you liked falling asleep in my bed and waking up and making me breakfast?"
Rose blushed. "Well, if you're going to tease me about it."
"No," said Scorpius, standing and walking around the table to sit at her side. "I'm not going to tease you."
"It is a lovely flat," she said, looking round. "And Mayfair is my favorite neighborhood."
"I know," he said simply, and understanding turned her smile almost shy.
Rose's reply was interrupted by the return of Archimedes, who gave a low hoot and dipped his beak into her tea. She removed the scroll from his leg before he stole a piece of toast and returned to his perch. Unrolling the parchment, she sniggered. Scorpius snatched it from her and read. His pale skin went white.
"Bollocks," he breathed. "Please tell me you didn't owl your dad that you spent the night at my flat?"
"As we're about to tell him that I'm moving into your flat, I don't see the problem," she said brightly. "Come on. Let's get ready and get this over with.
"And that was it? No row? No lectures? Nothing?"
"Nothing," Rose told Al, taking a sip of her ginger beer. "Even Mr. Malfoy seemed pleased for us."
"Why wouldn't he be pleased?" Scorpius said, downing the last of his firewhiskey. "His only child and the future of the Malfoy name has somehow managed to snare himself a Weasley."
"When is Margaret stopping by?"
"Whenever the damn muggle bus decides to make it here, I imagine. I don't know how she puts up with it."
Rose was about to reply when a grin spread across Al's face bigger than she'd ever seen before. Turning around in her seat she saw a pretty girl with short blonde hair, brown eyes, and a distinctly nervous look on her face.
"Margaret!" Al called, waving emphatically.
"Be forewarned," Scorpius told Rose under his breath. "He's almost insufferably cheerful when she's around."
"It was only insufferable because you were being a bitter little toerag," Al said between his teeth, the smile never leaving his face.
When Margaret approached the table, Rose looked up at her as Al made the necessary introductions, leaning over to press his lips to her forehead.
"It's so nice to meet you," Margaret said, twiddling her fingers as she slid into the booth next to Al.
"Don't be nervous," Al said, cheerfully. "She's not intimidating in the least, I promise."
Margaret scowled and elbowed him in the side
"I think she's going to fit in just fine," Scorpius announced.
"I'm sorry," Margaret huffed, dropping her bag onto the floor and unwrapping her scarf from around her neck. "This entire thing is a bit mad and bugger if I know why I haven't scarpered."
"An excellent question," Scorpius said, leaning back and putting an arm around Rose's shoulders.
Al gave a beleaguered sigh. "And now the three of you gang up on me."
"We're just trying to make Maragret more comfortable, Albus. Come on."
"Albus?" Maragret asked, perking up. Al's put his bottle down with a clunk and buried his face in his arms.
Rose and Scorpius looked at each other in surprise before breaking out identical grins.
"Even better," Scorpius confided. "Albus Severus Potter."
Margaret blinked, looking down at the messy black hair hiding her boyfriend's face. "Albus Severus? No wonder you never said."
"Can't be worse than Scorpius Hyperion," Al said giving Scorpius a wounded look from beneath his fringe. Rose rolled her eyes skyward.
"Go away, boys. I want to talk to Margaret."
"But - "
"I'll be on my best behavior," she said sweetly, ignoring the suspicious look Al cast over his shoulder as Scorpius dragged him toward the bar.
"So how are you doing with all of this?" Rose asked once they were out of sight.
Margaret's eyes widened. "Doing with all - "
"Margaret," Rose said with a conspiratorial smile. "You make Al happy, and that makes me happy. But come on. The bumbling bloke who somehow, and search me if I can figure it out, managed to badger you into dating him just announces he's a wizard? That magic is real? You're putting on an awfully brave face."
"I don't know if it's quite managed to sink in yet."
"Probably because Al's dancing around the subject," Rose said sagely. "You have to let him know it doesn't scare you - that who he is doesn't scare you. It doesn't, does it?"
"No!" Margaret said at once.
Rose regarded her for a long moment before finally smiling. "I believe you."
"Oh, thank God," Margaret breathed. Rose looked inquisitively at her and Margaret went on. "Al never shuts up about you - before I figured out you were his cousin, I was about to chuck him entirely because of it - and if you hadn't liked me?"
Rose was spared responding by Al's abrupt arrival.
"She hasn't managed to scare you off, has she?" Al asked, green eyes darting back and forth between them.
"I thought you said she wasn't intimidating," Scorpius said, sitting and pulling Rose's hand to his lips.
"Who knows what tricks she might have learnt from the creepy gits she works with."
"Hey!" Rose interjected. "They're neither creepy nor gits. They're discrete."
"What creepy gits do you work with?" Margaret asked, and Al gave her a quick sideways glance before giving Rose and Scorpius an imploring look.
Rose ignored him. "I work for the Department of Mysteries."
"The Department of…Mysteries?"
"Sort of like your MI6," Scorpius said helpfully. "Only actually top secret."
"So you're what? A spy or something?"
"Not exactly."
"A data analyst?"
"Not quite," Rose said, beginning to enjoy herself.
"Now you've done it, Maragret," Scorpius warned. "She's gone into know-it-all mode."
"Princess Rose of the Smugs," Al agreed, wrinkling his nose.
"I'm simply not at liberty to discuss what it is or isn't that I do," she said loftily, examining the fingernails of her free hand.
"Got it," Margaret said. "Secret government operative. Sounds way cooler than Al's gig."
Al gave her an indignant look. "I am a potions master."
"And he has the piece of paper to prove it!" Scorpius said, puffing out his chest.
"Why did I think this was a good idea?" Al moaned as Margaret burst into giggles. "You two were meant to talk me up!"
"It's almost like he hasn't known me his whole life," Rose said, glancing up at Scorpius with a smirk.
Once she caught his eye, however, she couldn't look away. Gone were the frown lines and the haunted look; he was looking down at her with the most openly joyful expression she'd ever seen on his face. Without stopping to think, she slid a hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers.
"Oi! Do you have to do that in front of me?"
"I think it's sweet," Margaret defended.
"Nothing about the pair of them is sweet," Al said darkly, and Rose and Scorpius were forced apart by their grins.