They Apparated to Thornhill Square and stood side by side watching the Victorian terraced house materialise between its neighbours. Scorpius' stomach clenched as though he'd performed long-distance Apparation.

Rose said, "Dad might be roaming the house in his boxers. We'd better ring the doorbell."

"Yes, let's." His words came out stilted. His body felt leaden. Scorpius cast a Counter Charm without effect.

"You're frowning. What's wrong?" Rose asked.

He told her.

"There's no new security ward," she said. "You're nervous."

"I'm not."

"Malfoys don't get nervous?" Her tone playfully mocked. "They don't have dimples or fall in love with a Weasley, either, I suppose."

"Never," Scorpius said. "But I do."

Rose reached for his hand, linking her fingers with his. "It's going to work out."

He nodded, but despite his resolve, the walk to the front step seemed abnormally long. Rose squared her shoulders and rang the doorbell. "I hope Mum answers."

"Me too." Her father might yank Rose inside and slam the door in Scorpius's face.

They both relaxed their grip on each other's hand when Rose's mother opened the door, although her attire of satin lounging pyjamas made Scorpius uneasy. Rose's father could be wearing black and white dotted silk boxers to match.

"Hello, Scorpius. Rose, we didn't expect you until later." Alone was implied.

Rose said, "I changed my mind."

Her mother's face lost colour. "He can't sleep over. Ronald . . . I can't even imagine."

Scorpius had no problem conjuring mental images. Painful ones.

Rose's cheeks burned red. "That's not what I meant."

"We'd like to talk to you and Mr. Weasley," Scorpius said.

Rose asked, "Is Dad in the lounge?"

"Listening to a sports talk program on the Wireless." Colour had returned to Rose's mother's face. "If the Cannons are predicted to do poorly he'll welcome the interruption." She led the way down the corridor.

They entered the lounge, an informal room with comfortable furniture and soft rugs accenting dark oak floors. Rose's father sprawled on a sofa, eyes closed, muttering slurs against the wireless announcer while eating crisps from a bowl balanced on his chest. He wore black lounging pyjamas, and the crisp bowl teetered with every exhalation.

Rose's mother said, "If I have to use another Cleaning Charm to remove grease stains I'm buying linen slipcovers, Ronald."

"No you won't. They wrinkle." Rose's father opened his eyes and promptly sat up, sending crisps and bowl tumbling. "What's he doing here?"

"Evanesco!" his wife cried.

Rose's father yelped. "Oy, that was three packets of cheese and onion." He scowled at Scorpius.

"Displacing anger doesn't help anything," Rose's mother said. "They want to talk."

"About what?"

"Why don't we have a seat and let them tell us?"

Rose's parents sat on the sofa, leaving chairs separated by the length of a coffee table. Scorpius moved an ottoman to the side of a chair so he and Rose could maintain a united front.

"Well?" Rose's father said. "Go ahead. Talk."

"I don't want to live at home during Ministry training," Rose blurted out. "I only agreed because you convinced me it was the sensible thing to do."

"It's the only way to save money," her father said.

Rose's mother asked, "Would you rather live in a bedsit? That's all I could afford as a trainee."

Rose's father added, "She had to clean a grotty communal shower every morning to avoid foot fungus."

"She didn't have to, she chose to," Rose shot back. "Nana and Granddad have nice bathroom suites. I bet you didn't tell her to stay with them and save money."

Scorpius tried to defuse the father/daughter glaring match. "Rose has more alternatives than a bedsit."

"Yes, of course," Rose's mother said. "Roxanne shared that one of her flatmates is getting married. Rose could—"

"—I'm moving in with Scorpius."

Rose's parents stared. A flush swept up her father's throat and darkened his face. "Moving in?" He spoke each syllable as if trying to sound out a foreign language.

"Count to twenty, Ron," Rose's mother said. She took a deep breath. "I know you've been spending a lot of time together since you left school."

"Holiday," Rose's father said. "You've been on holiday." His eyes narrowed. "Holidays end."

"This isn't a summer romance, Dad. We're partners."

Rose's father turned his incredulous gaze on Scorpius. "Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Equal partners? She's paying half the expenses?"

"Money has nothing to do with it," Rose's mother said sharply. "You earn more Galleons selling wizard wheezes than I make working for the Ministry. Am I not your equal?"

Rose's father shook his head. "You're loads smarter . . . and beautiful . . . and more forgiving . . . ."

"Oh, Ron." His wife sighed. "I know you're concerned. We both are." She told Scorpius, "How will your grandfather react?"

"Or those friends of yours, the Knights of Walpurgis?" A muscle jumped in Rose's father's cheek, but his voice remained calm.

"I'm not planning on telling anyone," Scorpius said. "It's no one else's concern."

"Not even your parents?" Rose's mother asked.

"No." They already assumed he and Rose were living together.

"I'll keep some books and clothes in my old room," Rose said. "I'll visit. Mum and I can have lunch together." Her voice wobbled. "You aren't losing me."

"Aw, Rosie." Her father stood, and then Rose and her parents were embracing.

Scorpius rose to his feet and took a step back, out of group hug range. He glanced at his watch. "It's getting late," he said, "and you three have Ministry . . . things . . . to discuss. Any packing can be done tomorrow."

Rose left the family circle to hug him. "Wait up for me."

His lips curved. "I will."

.

.

A/N: It may be late afternoon/early evening, but this still counts as a Friday post. Huzzah! The posting streak continues. Now I have to do something about naming chapters. :D

For anyone interested in how weird things inspire, I was writing the part where Scorpius and Rose are following Hermione to the lounge and thinking about whether to have Ron sitting in a chair or lying on the sofa, when lines from You're Pitiful (Weird Al Yankovic's parody of James Blunt's Your Beautiful) came to mind:

You're half-undressed, eating chips off your chest, playing Halo 2, no one's classier than you . . .

As much as I like Ron, without Hermione the man would be pitiful. And I'd be pitiful without reviewers, so I have to thank everyone who took that one giant step for readers and reviewed: alix33, arrrgghimapiratenow, Calenmarwen, Carnivalgirl, cinroc, fynnsmom, lalalove-Rae, Marina Del Pilar, Missdagane, Moontime, Nocturna Mae, Rose of the West, SGed, tambrathegreat, VanillaMostly, and whathappenedtotruelove.