Scorpius,

How could you do this? Why didn't you tell me this was happening? How could you just leave like this without a word? We would have helped you; we would have stood up to your father if that's what you wanted.

I thought we meant more than this? I can't understand why you've been so silent.

Rose.

Scorpius,

Please reply. I miss you. I need to understand why you've gone and what that means for us.

I still love you.

Rose

Scorpius,

I can handle that you wanted to end our relationship.

I can handle that you've gone to Durmstrang and apparently want to start a new life with new friends. That's your choice, after all.

Merlin, I can even handle the fact that you no longer want any of us in your life anymore. I might not like it, but I understand.

What I can't handle is the way you've done all this. Not a single explanation, no courtesy letter, not even a rejection. Nothing.

I deserve an answer from you.

Rose

Scorpius,

I'd give anything to see you again. Or even just to hear your voice.

There's no point to anything anymore and I don't know what to do.

Please, if you ever had even the slightest bit of affection towards me, please reply.

Rose.

Rose stared down at the letter in her hands. Her heart was heavy and it felt as though there was something choking her throat every time she tried to take a decent breath. After three unanswered letters, she had finally succumbed to more or less begging. Disgust at her own weakness churned in her gut, and she wished she had the strength to crush the parchment into a ball and toss it off the edge of the tower. And yet, despite the deafening silence from Scorpius for over a month now, a small part of her still held a shred of hope for a reply. Perhaps there had been some problem with the owls. Perhaps he really hadn't received any of her letters. Now he was at Durmstrang and free of his father, surely he had to answer… perhaps if she just sent one more…

Albus' owl Galleon clicked his beak in impatience, and Rose realised that she had been staring at the page in her hand long enough for the sun to start to set. She sighed, and went to tie it to the owl's leg. From his perch nearby, her own owl Pig twittered at her reproachfully, the tiny pygmy unable to understand why he was being continuously snubbed for all her letters.

"I'm sorry Pig," she whispered in a strangled voice, trying to catch the creature's eye. "It's just such a long way. You wouldn't be able to make it."

Pig gave an offended hoot and flew away up to a higher perch.

"Pig…"

But her owl ignored her. Rose scrubbed a hand against her face, turning back to the task at hand. Galleon seemed to stare at her pityingly. Great, now she was receiving sympathy from a bird…

"Make sure you deliver this to Scorpius," she said softly, triple tying the knot that attached the scroll to the owl's leg. Maybe the last one had fallen off… Maybe that was why he hadn't written back to her…

Galleon gave a hoot and took off, his powerful wings pushing the wind into her face as he took flight. Rose watched as he grew smaller and smaller, until he was nothing but a dark speck on the purple horizon, before vanishing out of sight completely.

"Please," she whispered, to no one in particular. "I need you."

She threw herself into her Head Girl duties and her studies, determined not to give herself a single second to think about Scorpius. It worked surprisingly well; she was so busy that the days seemed to pass in a blur of activity, and when she fell into bed each night she was so exhausted that she didn't even have the energy for dreams.

She knew her family was worried about her. It was in Albus' sympathetic gaze whenever they had a chance to spend time together, in the way Dom tiptoed around her as though she was made out of glass; it was in Hugo and Lily's fearful looks, almost as if they expected her to break down at any second and start sobbing like a hysterical child. It was in the way her other cousins, who had always treated her with friendly casualness, now went out of their way to be nice to her.

She found herself spending less and less time with them, since their timidity only served to remind her of her miserable reality. Instead she took to hanging around with Lorcan, whose quiet, quirky presence was infinitely more enjoyable. She liked to lie on the couch and listen to him read the Quibbler to her, pausing now and then to add his own anecdotes to the story or else regaling her with tales of his parents' many bizarre travels across the globe. Lorcan never asked her about Scorpius, never gave her any pitying looks or condescending pats on the shoulder. And as Head Boy he was the one person she saw most, lounging in their shared common room or making his strange cups of 'good luck' tea in the annexed kitchen they had use of. So they became fast friends just as they had been in earlier years, and Rose wondered why they had ever stopped being so close.

She kept an eye out for owls, but with every passing week she became more and more resigned to the fact that Scorpius wasn't going to write to her. She wasn't even sure if she wanted him to anymore, and how she would react if he did. And yet, as much as she tried to tell herself that she didn't care, she still felt the iron band squeezing her chest tighten each morning when there was no mail dropped into her lap over breakfast. And she still made the trek to the owlery every week, to send another letter. Just one more. Just in case.

And so the days passed into weeks and the weeks into months and her seventh and final year at Hogwarts slowly slipped away. And his absence was like a black cloud around her that she couldn't dislodge, no matter how hard she tried.

And then one morning, came the news she had been dreading. Rose clambered out of bed already late, threw on her robes and ran her wand through her hair before stumbling out into the corridors ready for a headlong flight to her first lesson, only to find the castle utterly still and silent, as though the entire population of Hogwarts had been obliterated in the night and she was the only survivor. Banishing this rather terrifying thought, she hurried down the corridor with a sinking feeling forming like poison in her stomach, making her limbs shake and her breath come in short, shallow pants.

At the end of the corridor was a painting showing a gathering of Franciscan monks outside a ruined monastery. On most days the inhabitants wandered mournfully back and forth across the frame, but today they were standing together in a tight huddle, whispering and shaking their heads. Rose skidded to a halt besides them and cleared her throat.

"E-excuse me."

Their baleful eyes seemed to bore into her as they turned their heads. "What is it, little Miss?" asked one of them.

She gestured to the empty corridor. "Where is everybody? Class starts in five minutes."

The monks in the painting shared a look that made Rose's chest tighten. "Haven't you heard the news?"

"What news?" she made herself ask.

They muttered to themselves, shaking their heads.

"What news?" she demanded.

"Best get to the Entrance Hall, m'lady," said one. "You'll find out soon enough."

She didn't hesitate, setting off at a run in that direction. Her footsteps echoed around her as she ran, sliding down flights of stairs and across corridors as though Voldemort himself was at her heels. She didn't meet another soul until she reached the steps above the Entrance Hall. There, as the monks had said, almost the entire student population had gathered, milling about in hushed, buzzing circles. There were no teachers to be seen.

Rose knew what had happened. She knew it even before she caught sight of Dom, her face streaked with tears and her normally impeccable uniform in disarray; or Albus, sitting with his head in his hands on the bottom step. She knew it even before Professor Millew came out of the Great Hall with a face more drawn and stern than Rose had ever seen it.

"Rose."

She turned at the sound of her brother's voice. Hugo stood off to one side of the landing, his hands shoved in his pockets and a black look upon his face.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Hugo stared back at her, his own mouth tight and his eyes harsh with grief.

"It's happened," he said. "He – " he choked and looked away, shielding his expression with his fringe. "He's…"

But she didn't need him to explain. She slumped against the banister, staring around her at the crowd of students without truly recognising any of them. Everything seemed muffled somehow, and condensed, so that even though she was surrounded by the tearful faces of those who supposedly shared her grief, at the same time she had never felt so alone. As though there was a barrier between her and the rest of her peers, an invisible shield that stopped her from reaching out and finding solace with another person. And her troubles and worries with Scorpius paled into insignificance like a little lumos swamped by a vast and torturous floodlight.

Beside her, she could see the subtle tremors in Hugo's shoulders that he was trying desperately to hide. Her own legs were beginning to shake, and she knew that if she stayed there much longer she would end up falling in a messy heap as many of her friends had done. That thought, along with the responsibilities she knew she would be given as soon as Professor Millew caught sight of her, was enough for Rose to find the energy within herself to turn and run. Leaving her brother where he was she ran and ran, back up the stairs she had flown down only moments before, and further, until there were no more stairs to climb and she was at the top of the Astronomy Tower, trying to breathe, trying desperately to breathe. And there was no smoke coming from Hagrid's cabin, which lay cold and lifeless in the early morning. And then the tears came, hot and angry and desperate, and she curled up there in the tower and tried to forget that she was alive.

But of course life had to move on. A week of mourning was declared, and preparations were swiftly underfoot for a full Hogwarts' funeral. Parents and friends of Hagrid would be invited, and there would be a ceremony at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where the half-giant was to be buried next to Dumbledore's tomb. It was to be one of the biggest events Hogwarts had ever seen, a fitting celebration of a person as incredible and larger-than-life as Hagrid himself.

As Head Girl it was Rose's duty to help with the organisation of this. Within a few days she and Lorcan had been instructed to assist in sending out owls to relevant members of the public, helping to co-ordinate the Flu and Portkey networks in Hogsmeade, arranging speeches and music and co-ordinating with all the Prefects to get the student body arranged in an orderly fashion. All this she tried to do, knowing that it was the responsibility that came with a position she had coveted for years. But no matter how hard she tried she could never really focus on what she was doing. For her the world had gone onto autopilot the morning when she learnt of Hagrid's death, and it didn't seem as if it would return to normal any time soon.

The day of the funeral was overcast and windy, which seemed fitting somehow despite the inconvenience it caused. Rose worked without stopping to think, wandering around directing people to their seats and helping Professor Sami organise some of Hagrid's favourite animals, including a pair of Hippogriffs and a herd of Thestrals that she couldn't even see. News of Hagrid's death had spread throughout the Forbidden Forest and Rose was a little tentative as she scurried around its edges, knowing the many weird and wonderful creatures that Hagrid had befriended in his lifetime. The last thing the school needed was for a horde of acromantulas swooping in upon the proceedings, although Professor Sami assured her such a thing would not happen.

"They'll keep well out of sight of us, don't worry," she said, bending over to drag a cage of twittering bowtruckles closer to the shade of the forest. "But they'll be there, watching. The centaurs too, no doubt."

Rose wasn't sure whether she felt comforted by this or not, and she couldn't help keep an eye on the darkness of the trees for the rest of the day. She hadn't forgotten what had happened to her the last time she had wandered into the Forbidden Forest, and for all her bravado the thought of what might be lurking in there still terrified her.

There were other things to attend to that took her mind off Hagrid's curious assortment of animal friends, however. Parents and friends began arriving by midmorning, most of them apparating outside the gates and then walking into the school grounds by foot. Among these was her own family, easily spotted by their bright red hair and the certain aura of intensity they seemed to bring with them everywhere. Rose, who at that time had been assigned to help direct people to their seats, watched them enter with a strange sort of trepidation. She had hardly written to her parents since the beginning of term; there had been other things taking up her time, and if she was being honest, she was afraid of what their reactions would be when they learnt of Scorpius' departure.

If she was in doubt as to whether or not they had heard the news, her father's expression upon entering the castle was a good enough answer. Ron was scowling heavily even before he caught sight of her, and when he did his brows tightened in such a way that Rose knew exactly what he wanted to say to her. She took a deep breath as they approached, trying to ready herself for what was to come.

"Rose," her mother embraced her warmly, kissing her cheek before drawing back and staring keenly into her face. "Oh Rose. How are you?"

She struggled to give her mum a smile. "I'm okay," she managed.

Hermione didn't look convinced. "You look tired," she said, putting a hand against Rose's cheek. "Are you eating well? How are you finding your classes?"

"They're fine. I'm fine," she edged away, and Hermione let her hand drop. "Really, I'm just… just tired."

"Of course you are," her mother's gaze was sympathetic.

"We heard the news."

Rose had been wondering when her father would cut in. Ron stood by Hermione's side with a face like thunder, his whole body tense and his jaw clenching and unclenching as though he was grinding his teeth together continuously.

"Your seats are over there," she said, ignoring his weighted statement. She gestured vaguely in the direction of the marble table that had been set up at the front of the rows of chairs, and although Hermione nodded and moved to walk away, her father remained exactly where he was.

"I'd like a word with you first, Rose."

She closed her eyes for half a moment, before nodding. There was no real point in delaying. Ron was obviously waiting to explode, and the longer she put it off the worse it would be. Best just to get it over with.

Her mother squeezed her hand for a moment before letting go. "I'll be at our seats," she said to her husband, who nodded stiffly. "It's a hard day for everyone, Ron. Try not to… " she trailed off with a sigh and walked away.

Rose didn't say anything, allowing the silence to stretch. She could see Albus and Lily standing nearby with their parents and grandparents. Harry was magnificent in full dress robes; Rose didn't think she had ever seen him look so striking.

"Didn't I tell you?"

She bit her tongue, unable to prevent the stab of pain that shot through her at her father's accusing tone.

"Didn't I tell you to stay away from him? I warned you what would happen if you got too close to him."

He was right, of course. He had warned her. And if she had listened to him she wouldn't be standing there right now. "I'm sorry."

Ron breathed out heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I went against my better judgment. I should never have allowed this to happen. This is my fault."

Her eyes snapped to her father, surprised at the sudden guilt in his tone. "It's not your fault," she said.

He shook his head. "I told myself to trust you – I convinced myself that Albus might be right – " he scowled again, the tips of his ears dark red. "But it turns out I should have listened to myself. A Malfoy will always be a Malfoy."

She didn't answer; it was hard enough to keep her composure as it was without opening her mouth. Behind her, the students had nearly all assembled in their seats. She could see Lorcan in the corner of her eye, guiding his parents to their section, both of them dressed in blinding white. It wouldn't be long until the ceremony started.

"I'm so sorry he hurt you Rosie." She felt her father's hand on her arm, the gentleness of his touch belying the anger embedded in his voice. "I swear to Merlin that if I ever get my hands on that boy, I'll make him regret the day he decided to touch you. I swear it."

She blinked, unable to hold back the tears now. "I'm fine, dad," she said in a choked voice. "I have to go." And she hurried away before the temptation to fall into his arms like a five year old became too hard to refuse.

The ceremony itself was simple, with soft music and speeches from Professor McGonagall and her uncle Harry. Hagrid's boardhound Shadow circled the open cut grave beside Dumbledore's where the gigantic tomb was soon to be laid, as though he knew what was happening and was desperate to try and stop it. For the most part Rose stared straight ahead, her eyes fixed on nothing in particular and her mind going in a strange blank loop from Scorpius to Hagrid, each time more painful than the last. Once or twice her gaze drifted to the forest, and she saw within the murky darkness dozens of half-discernible figures, poised in stillness and silence in honour of their friend.

"Look," whispered Lorcan in her ear, and when she glanced at him he nodded with his head in the direction of the lake. And there Rose saw a sea of rippling, pale green faces in the water: the merpeople of the lake, most hovering just below the surface but one or two with their head above water, staring over the crowd of people in the direction of Hagrid's grave. As she watched they began to sing, slowly at first but gathering in intensity and feeling. At the same time Hagrid's body, huge even in death, was carried by the teachers slowly down the rows of seats to its final resting place. They set him down gently upon the earth, and a moment later in a brilliant flash of light what had once been an empty hole became a long, low marble tomb, alongside Dumbledore's. The song of the merpeople faded slowly away, leaving only Shadow's whines and whimpers.

"He's gone," she whispered. Her voice cracked a little from her tears. "He's really gone."

She felt Lorcan shift slightly beside her, and a moment later his hand slipped into hers, warm and comforting. He squeezed her fingers, his grip strong.

"I know." His hand tightened around hers, until it was the only feeling in the world. Above them the sky darkened and a gust of wind brought the first drops of rain.

From deep within the forest, a bird burst into song, a heartbreaking melody of mourning and loss. And behind the sweetness of the call a harsher, deeper voice rang out, rough with pain and loss. But Rose stared blankly ahead, Lorcan's hand like a lifeline around hers. And at the end of the song her inner voice cried out: where are you? Where have you gone?

She sent him one more letter.

Scorpius,

This will be my last letter.

I'm not sure why I'm sending it, as there's next to no chance that you'll reply. But I thought you should know: today I attended Hagrid's funeral.

You told me once that you and he were friends. I think I believed you too. Now I'm not so sure. I thought I knew you but now I don't think I know who you are. Maybe everything you ever told me was a lie.

I think I can honestly say that this is goodbye. You didn't want to fight, and I don't have the strength to do it alone anymore.

I hope you have a good life.

Rose.

She sent it using one of Hogwarts' owls, a friendly tawny bird that nipped her finger affectionately before taking flight. It was night time now, the post-funeral banquet over and all the guests returned home. The sky was dark and cloudy and threatened a storm, typical of late November. It might already be snowing in Scandinavia. Rose shivered, wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself and glancing forlornly at the sullen bundle that was Pig, high up in the rafters, before turning on her heel and walking down the steps of the tower.

In the common room she found Lorcan waiting for her. He had two cups of hot chocolate, one of which he handed to her with a smile.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes sweeping her quickly as though looking for signs of injury.

Outside a gust of wind caused the rafters to shudder, and Rose fancied she could hear the whistling of it through the forest. "I don't know."

"You will be, though."

She looked at him, and saw the certainty of conviction in his hazel eyes. "You think so?"

"Yeah."

She smiled, and took a sip of hot chocolate. "Thanks."

"Anytime." He kissed her cheek, and the first spark of warmth lit within her.