Seventh Year

The responsibilities of being a leader had never seemed such a burden to Rose as they did that first day on the train back to Hogwarts. All she wanted was to curl up in a little ball and pretend the world didn't exist for a while. Instead she was forced to carry out her duties as though nothing was wrong, as though nothing had changed; going on patrol, putting on a brave face, ignoring the way his absence suddenly seemed to take up the whole world, so incredibly obvious that she had no idea how she had wandered around in ignorance for such a long time.

She kept her eyes downcast as she walked throughout the carriages, avoiding eye contact and praying desperately that she could somehow avoid running into anyone she knew. It was a futile wish.

"Rose!" Dom rushed up to her almost as soon as she left the sanctuary of the Prefects' carriage and entered the main part of the train. "What's going on? I just spoke to Daisy and she said – " her cousin pulled up short at the sight of Rose's still red-rimmed eyes and ghost white pallor. "Oh," she said softly. "It's true then?"

Rose dragged her gaze away. What could she say? She hated the way Dom was looking at her, as though she was a delicate china doll that might break at any moment. If only she hadn't told her cousin about Scorpius. If only she hadn't told anyone…

"We're on patrol," commented Lorcan. He had offered to accompany Rose on her rounds and she had accepted, leaving Albus in control of the rest of the Prefects. At least most of the students tended to keep a safe distance from Lorcan, a fact she was hoping would rub off on her a little. Sometimes it paid to be an oddity.

Dom hadn't taken her eyes off of her. "I don't understand," she whispered. Rose wished she wouldn't; the tortured look in her eyes was threatening to set her tears off all over again. It would hardly be a good look to break down in the middle of the corridor. She needed to stay in control; she needed to act like this didn't affect her. Like she didn't care. It didn't matter. It –

"Would you like to accompany us?" asked Lorcan. Dom blinked at him, as though noticing his presence for the first time. "You see," he explained patiently to her confused expression. "It doesn't set a good example to the rest of the student body if we stand here in the corridor talking. We are Heads, after all."

Any other day Rose might have laughed at the look of shock on Dom's face. "Er… " her cousin hesitated a moment, before shrugging and looping her arm through Rose's. "Sure, why not, I'll come."

The physical contact felt nice, and Rose clung to her cousin's arm like a lifeline. "Thanks," she muttered under her breath as they continued walking.

"No problem," continued Dom in the same undertone. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Gods, she was going to have a hard time keeping her emotions in check. "Not really. I – " she swallowed against the lump in her throat. "There's not really much to say. He's gone."

She felt Dom's arm tighten around her own, as the part-Veela grumbled something unintelligible under her breath. Rose thought she caught the words 'prat' and 'strangle' buried in there somewhere.

"You can say it, you know," Rose sighed.

"Say what?"

"That you were right," her voice dropped to a whisper as a deep emptiness seemed to open up inside her, crushing her feelings in lieu of a complete and utter blankness. "That I shouldn't have trusted him."

"Rose…"

"Never trust a Malfoy." She stared straight ahead, but she hardly saw the corridor, or the students sitting in their compartments all around them, laughing and chatting as though there was absolutely nothing wrong in the world. It was like a dream, a horrible nightmare that she wasn't going to wake from.

"I'm sure he – "

"I don't want to talk about it," she cut her cousin off, and heard Dom sigh. "Lorcan, let's talk about Ziggamees."

"What do you want to know?" he asked curiously.

She looped her spare arm through his, trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest. "I don't know. Tell me anything."

There was a light drizzle at Hogsmeade as they stepped off the train, and the air was unseasonably cool. Straining her eyes to spot the looming form of Hagrid in the dark, Rose was somewhat surprised when he didn't immediately appear. Usually the half-giant stationed himself somewhere close to the centre of the platform, an easy target for all the nervous and intimidated first years to find. It was usually impossible not to notice him.

"Where's Hagrid?" she asked Lorcan, who was by her side as he had been throughout the journey.

"Perhaps he's running late," he offered, but she dismissed the suggestion with a shake of her head.

"Hagrid's never late."

"Maybe he had another task to attend to?"

Rose opened her mouth to tell Lorcan he was being ridiculous, that Hagrid always took the first years and this year would be no different; but she was cut off by a very un-Hagrid-like voice that began calling out in the darkness.

"First Years this way! First Years this way!"

A stone dropped into her stomach. "What…"

Professor Sami was standing in Hagrid's normal place, holding up a lantern in one hand and calling across the platform in a magically magnified voice.

"First Years to me!"

Without thinking Rose shoved her way through the crowd towards the teacher, concern pushing all her other emotions to one side. When Professor Sami saw her coming she smiled, a sentiment Rose didn't return.

"Hello Rose – "

"Where is he?" she demanded, not bothering to be polite. When Professor Sami only stared at her in confusion she almost growled. "Hagrid," she clarified. "Why isn't he here taking the First Years across the Lake?"

Professor Sami frowned at her, as though she disapproved of Rose's concern. "Professor Hagrid was not feeling well enough to come tonight," she stated matter-of-factly.

The stone in Rose's stomach grew heavier. She opened her mouth, but could think of nothing to say in the face of her teacher's stare. She was acutely aware that they were being surrounded by nervous first years, all desperate to know what was to happen to them next; that Lorcan had come up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder; that Professor Sami was still speaking….

"… help me guide them to the boats."

But none of it mattered. Hagrid couldn't be sick. He just couldn't. She glanced around the crowd of students, desperate to find someone who would appreciate the sinking feeling erupting in her chest. But Albus was nowhere to be seen, and Scorpius… she choked, her vision misting over as the ignominy of it all swept her.

"Rose?" Lorcan's voice was in her ear, gentler than she had ever heard it before. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she answered, stumbling blindly after Professor Sami's lantern, feeling somewhat like a first-year herself. "Let's just go."

She had a job to do, after all. The rest of it could wait.

By the time she had led the first years over the Lake and into the castle, the drizzle had increased to a steady downpour and she was drenched to the bone. Most of the first years resembled drowned puppies, swamped by their cloaks and sporting near identical terrified expressions. Rose didn't have the patience to try and calm them, her own mind too frantic and confused to be much assistance beyond the absolute necessities. In that regard Lorcan proved surprisingly invaluable. He entertained them all with a captivating story of getting lost in a Burmese jungle with his parents, distracting them so successfully with tales of tri-horned Humdingers and angry locals that they hardly even noticed Professor Millew open the door to announce that the Sorting was about to begin.

"Very well done," the Head of Gryffindor told them after the first years had been organised into a rough queue and were waiting for their next instructions. She gave them both approving nods, her tight lips almost curving upwards into the ghost of a smile. From Professor Millew this was rather high praise, and Rose felt a tinge of guilt that she had been next to useless and yet was still receiving credit. "You may take your seats among your houses now." She turned aside before pausing. "I'm sure you're both eager to see your new dormitory."

Rose didn't reply. She didn't really feel eager for anything right now, except maybe curling up in a ball and going to sleep for a long time. She knew that having her own private room was something she was supposed to be looking forward to, but the whole thing was so tainted by the day she had had that Rose very much doubted she could raise the appropriate enthusiasm.

"You will find your new rooms on the fifth floor," continued Professor Millew when neither of them spoke. "The password is Tentacula."

"Strange," mused Lorcan as he watched Professor Millew shepherd the first years through a narrow doorway. "Did you know Derwent Shimpling once ate an entire Venomous Tentacula and survived?"

"Mm-hmm," she murmured without really registering what he was saying. She was too busy thinking about their late arrival to dinner and whether it would be possible to avoid everyone's stares as she entered the Great Hall. Maybe she could slip inside without anyone even noticing? There had to be a secret passageway for the House Elves somewhere that she could use. Perhaps she could shrink herself and… why had she never considered becoming an Animagus before?

"Rose?"

She blinked, realising she was standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall and staring into space. Lorcan was a few steps ahead of her, worry darkening his face as he waited for her to follow him. Rose almost laughed at the expression on his face. You knew things were bad when even Lorcan thought you were acting crazy. Then the laughter turned into a sob and she swallowed and turned her head to the side to hide her expression.

"Are you coming in?" he asked.

The Great Hall was already packed with the rest of the student body, having all taken a much faster route to the Castle than across the lake. Through the doorway Rose could see them all at their tables, chattering away and waiting for the Sorting to begin. There was no way she could slip in without attracting attention. Her eyes skidded to the Slytherin table, where Albus was deep in conversation with Hector Nott. A few places down, Flora was scowling at her empty plate as though it had done her personal injury. Rose felt her stomach perform a little flip.

"The Sorting's about to start," said Lorcan.

She dragged a hand through her hair. "I think I'm going to go and check out our new rooms," she said without quite meeting his gaze. Lorcan was far too perceptive and she didn't want to see the understanding in his eyes right then. "See whether we get a better fireplace than the rest of the Gryffindors, you know?"

"You should eat something."

"Not really hungry," she mumbled. "You have a good night though. I'll see you later."

"Rose – "

She turned and walked off before he could finish, not allowing herself to think too much about what she was doing. With automatic steps she made her way up the familiar staircases to the fifth floor, stopping at the burly suit of armour which she knew from previous years disguised the entrance to the Head rooms.

"Tentacula," she said when he lifted his visor to regard her. With a series of creaks and grumbles the knight bowed stiffly and stepped aside, revealing a smoothly polished oak door set in the castle wall that had been completely invisible moments earlier. It swung open easily at her touch.

Rose barely noticed the sumptuous furnishings of the room she entered. It was a large common room with a roaring fire, two comfortable looking armchairs, a sofa and a pair of large study desks with matching chairs set on opposite sides of the room. Beside one desk a statue of a large bronze lion had been erected, and besides the other, a proud looking silver eagle. It was supposed to be quaint, she supposed, and traditional, but part of Rose hated that they were still, even now, emphasising House above everything else. She stared hard at the eagle, wondering how a snake would have looked in its place.

At the far end of the room a half-dozen carpeted steps led up to an elevated landing where two doors faced one another. Ignoring the rest of the room, Rose strode forward and tried opening the one on the left. It was locked, and didn't respond to her Alohamora. The second opened when she turned the handle, revealing a warmly coloured room dominated by a huge four-poster bed that was a larger version of the one she had slept in for the previous six years. There was another desk beside a window that appeared to overlook the Great Lake. One side of the room was floor-to-ceiling mahogany wardrobes, and a full length mirror that showed only shadows in the darkness.

Her luggage was already laid at the foot of her bed. Since there was nothing else to do, Rose walked over and sat down on the mattress. She tried to conjure a reaction within herself to what would be her home for the rest of the year, but nothing was forthcoming. Objectively she supposed it was welcoming enough, but to Rose it seemed lacking somehow. After six years of longing for a room of her own, she now found herself wishing there was someone else there besides just her. Someone like Dom, to keep her entertained with all sorts of titbits and laughter. Even Daisy and Peoria's bickering would have been preferable to the stifling silence that seemed to settle around her as she sat in the centre of the room.

On the desk a scroll of parchment and an inkstand had been set up for her, almost as though those who had arranged her room had known exactly what she would want. Rose eyed the blank parchment almost distrustfully, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist writing to him and hating herself for her weakness. Then she scrambled over to it, sliding into the seat and picking up the quill with trembling hands. She touched it to the edge of the paper and took a deep, steadying breath.

Scorpius,

She frowned, biting her bottom lip until she drew blood. What on earth could she say? Her first instinct was a torrent of abuse and outrage, but she didn't know what purpose that would serve. Should she write him nicely and ask him to explain? Or should she scream at him and tell him she never wanted to see him again. Would that even be true?

I learned today that you're attending Durmstrang. I wish you'd told me before.

She exhaled heavily, fiddling with the quill. Truth was she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to say to him. The ink spread in a large blot over the words she had written, like a dark tear, before she vanished it with her wand.

Please write back and help me understand.

Rose.

Her stomach gave a loud groan, reminding her of her missed dinner and the fact that she had hardly eaten a bite all day. It was a bad look for a Head Girl to skip the opening feast. The teachers would surely have noticed, particularly McGonagall; probably she would get a reprimand for it from someone later. And Dom would be upset with her. Sudden tears sprang to her eyes, and she stood up abruptly before stumbling back to her new bed. No point sending the letter now; the owlery might not even be open yet, and she would need to use someone else's owl to send a letter all the way to Durmstrang. Pig wouldn't be able to make the distance. Rose shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. She could hear the rain hitting her window, a steady sound that she usually found comforting but which seemed almost sinister to her right then. All summer she had looked forward to coming back to Hogwarts, to things going back to normal in her life. But now she realised how mistaken she had been. There was no such thing as normal. There was only the present, the reality of life at that moment, in which she was Head Girl and alone and Scorpius was somewhere far away in another country. She didn't even really know where.

Rose fumbled for her wand, waving it almost blindly and casting the room into darkness as her tears overwhelmed her and she finally gave in to her despair.

She woke at dawn the next day, to find that the storm had blown itself out and the sky was clear and pale. The letter she had written the night before lay on the desk, the ink gleaming slightly from the rays of the rising sun. As she had guessed her window held a beautiful view of the lake, its surface utterly still in the calm of the early morning, and the Forbidden Forest stretching like a dark canvas from its shore. Getting out of bed, Rose padded over to the window sill, from where she could just see the very edge of Hagrid's hut. It was dark and silent, but the thin flume of smoke rising from the chimney told her that he was awake at least.

Making her decision, Rose threw on her cloak and a pair of shoes, the only things she had bothered taking off the night before, and left her room. Lorcan's door was shut, and the living room was dark and silent, as undisturbed as it had been the night before, except for a few loose scrolls of parchment lying on her desk which she presumed to be her timetable and hall roster. Ignoring these, she strode across the room and let herself out.

The Bloody Baron was wandering the second floor, floating so silently that Rose nearly ran through him before she noticed his presence. She halted in her tracks, staring at the Slytherin ghost as he passed without even a glance in her direction, a new appreciation of his morbidity forming within her. Her mother had told her once that the Bloody Baron was still atoning for sins he had committed several centuries ago, and that he would probably never find real peace. Looking at his gaunt features, Rose wondered what it would be like to carry that grief around with you for such a long time. It was a depressing thought, and she lowered her eyes in almost awe-like respect as the spirit drifted through a wall and out of sight.

She didn't meet another soul on the way to the Entrance Hall, nor as she let herself out onto the chilly grounds. It was too early; in fact, Rose wasn't entirely sure she was even allowed out at this time of the morning. Brushing aside this thought with an ease that would have disturbed her had she been fully conscious of it, she trekked her way across the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. When she got there, she pounded on his door without hesitating, her heart lifting somewhat at Shadow's answering bark.

After a few moments the door creaked open and Hagrid's face appeared, still bleary-eyed from sleep.

"Blimey!" He greeted, blinking once or twice as though to confirm she was actually standing there. "S'a bit early, isn' it?"

He had lost a lot of weight, and appeared to have shrunk considerably, so that he took up far less space than he had before, and his clothes hung like oversized bed sheets on his frame. But his beetle black eyes still shone with the same characteristic warmth, and he smiled happily at her once the initial shock had faded.

"Well, bes' come in then," he said, hobbling away from the door to let her through. He moved awkwardly, using the furniture to prop himself up as he shuffled around the room. "Yeh're lucky, I jus' put the kettle on."

"I'm sorry for coming so early," she said, watching his movements in alarm. The short walk from door to table seemed to have exhausted him, and he was visibly struggling to lower himself into a seat. "I wanted to visit as soon as I could, and – "

He waved away her apologies with a plate-sized hand. "Couldn' sleep anyway," he mumbled.

"You weren't at Hogsmeade yesterday," she said, trying to keep her voice free of accusation and only partially succeeding. "Professor Sami took the first years instead."

"Eh, I know," he said, not quite meeting her eyes. "Heard yeh've bin made Head Girl though!" When she only nodded he went on, "Tha's great, isn' it. Always knew yeh would be. Jus' like yer mum, yeh are."

Rose nodded again. She had rushed down to his cabin in such a hurry that she hadn't even thought about what she would say when she got there. Now everything she could think of seemed pointless or childish. Idly, she ran her hand along Shadow's neck, searching for the right words.

"Heard abou' Scorpius too," Hagrid added in a solemn voice. He reached over and unhooked the cast iron kettle from where it hung over the fire, blowing hard with the effort of the movement. "Real shame, that is."

She opened her mouth, eyes prickling, but nothing more than a strangled assent came out. Instead she clung to the steaming mug Hagrid placed in front of her and tried to pretend that she was thinking of something to say.

"There, now I've made yeh upset," Hagrid rumbled in a voice of regret. With one hand he reached across the table and patted her arm; but the sight of his bony knuckles and the wasted skin of his hand only made the pain in her chest increase. Shadow, sensing the tension in the air, curled up on the rug and tucked his head into his side.

"Don' cry Rosie," murmured Hagrid.

Was she crying? Rose blinked as the calm surface of her tea was disturbed by a falling teardrop. "I always wanted to be Head Girl," she said in a chocked voice, searching for a way to release the tumult of emotions inside her with some kind of coherency. "Ever since… ever since I was old enough to know what Hogwarts was. I wanted to make my mum proud. And my dad. That was all I wanted." She broke off, trembling, but Hagrid stayed silent, clearly waiting for her to continue. "And – and I worked so hard to be what they wanted me to be."

"Yeh've made them proud, Rosie. I know yeh have."

"Until – until I fell in love with him," she continued."Against all my better judgement, against my family, and my friends, and – and I forced them to accept him and I even fought with my dad - " she squeezed her eyes shut as the awful reality pressed down upon her like a physical weight. " And now he's gone and I just look so stupid and – "

"Yeh're not stupid," interjected Hagrid, but she shook her head in denial.

"I am. I am. If I wasn't, I wouldn't have lost sight of what was important. I wouldn't have allowed myself to believe some stupid fantasy that didn't – that didn't ever mean anything."

There was a long silence, before Hagrid cleared his throat. "I may be a bit clueless abou' these things," he began. "But I saw th' way young Scorpius used ter look at yeh. And I know it meant somethin' ter him."

Rose hated how desperately she wanted to believe his words. Her vision blurring, she pushed herself out of her chair and stumbled across to the half-giant, who seemed to understand what she wanted and opened his arms so that she could fall against his chest. Rose buried her head in his cavernous overcoat, allowing the guilt and despair to spill forth in hot, salty tears. Hagrid patted her back gently, waiting for her sobs to finish.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed at last, accepting the tablecloth-sized handkerchief he offered her and blowing her nose. "I shouldn't come here and – and waste your time like this. Not when…"

Hagrid shrugged, almost dislodging her onto the floor with the movement. "S'no' th' firs' time I've had a student needin' ter cry on me shoulder." He gave a chuckle that turned quickly into a deep, hacking cough. Rose stepped back, remembering with a spike of fear what had brought her to his cabin in the first place.

"Hagrid," she whispered. "I – "

But he was oblivious to her concern, his face growing redder as he struggled to breathe through the gripping cough. Shadow whined and padded restlessly about the room, as though desperate to help in some way. Rose shared the animal's distress; she fingered her wand, wishing she knew a healing spell that could relieve the pain from her friend, but knowing that such a thing was far, far beyond her power.

When it was over, and Hagrid was taking in deep, shaky gulps of air, Rose could see the lines of exhaustion on his face and the deep circles shadowing his eyes. She tried to say something, anything, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it, and she didn't have the strength to force the issue. So she simply hugged him again, trying to ignore how his bones jutted into her, and promised to visit again soon.

Lorcan was awake when she returned, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in front of him. He got to his feet when she let herself in.

"I went to see Hagrid," she said in answer to his inquisitive stare. Her whole body ached with fatigue and grief, and she felt as though she could quite easily curl back into bed. If only she had such a luxury.

Lorcan gave her a searching gaze as she shuffled past him. "I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said.

She nodded. "I'm alright."

"And Hagrid?"

The answer caught in her throat, and she shrugged without meeting his eyes. It took all her willpower not to breakdown again.

Lorcan reached out and squeezed her hand, his fingers warm against her own chill ones. He didn't speak, but she sensed the unspoken support in his silence, and the strength behind his gentle touch. A sudden longing for human contact overwhelmed her, and she reached out blindly. Lorcan responded by putting his arms around her, gripping her tight against his chest. He was warm from bed, and for a moment Rose closed her eyes and allowed herself the simple comfort of behind held. If she was very still, and didn't breathe, she could almost imagine that it was –

"Better get ready." Lorcan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, shattering the illusion that she had been building. Rose jerked back to reality with a start, the chill air rushing to envelop her like a curse. "Class starts soon, and there's breakfast."

"Yeah." She slipped out of his embrace, berating herself for being so weak, so cowardly. For not being strong enough to forget him. "I'd better go get ready." She shuffled over to the door of her room, which was only just beginning to lighten as the sun rose above the level of the Forbidden Forest. When she shut the door of her room Lorcan was still standing in the living room, his hair glowing golden in the first rays of the dawning sun.

And on her desk her letter to Scorpius still lay, pale and innocent in the light. Rose walked over to it, picking up the quill almost without thinking, and added a final postscript to the page with numb fingers.

Hagrid is dying.