It was just as well she had headed down early, Rose decided a little later that morning, since McGonagall and the other teachers were on a war path already, and it wasn't even eight in the morning yet.

"Go and speak to the house elves about an early breakfast," McGonagall was ordering a resentful looking fifth-year when Rose found her outside the entrance to the Great Hall a few hours later. "Some of the Beauxbatons students like to eat at least an hour before the match. And remind them that they are French, so for Archimedes' sake no crumpets." She spotted Rose, and an expression of acute relief passed over the old witch's features. "Ah Miss Weasley, you're here. I'm leaving you in charge of the Durmstrang students this morning. Do try to make sure they all end up in the right place."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, but the Headmistress was already bustling away, snapping at the Fat Friar to stop hovering near the stairwell and herding a couple of shy Hufflepuffs back into the Great Hall. Sighing, Rose straightened her shoulders and fixed what she hoped was a friendly and professional smile on her face. She was determined to get through this day without thinking about Scorpius… well, perhaps not thinking, she corrected guiltily, but not dwelling, and certainly not –

"Rose?"

She jumped, her heart pounding at the unexpected interruption to her thoughts. Turning, she saw the Beauxbatons' student Jean hovering a few feet from her, fully dressed in sky blue robes. At her startled reaction, his expression turned somewhat sheepish.

"Sorry," he said, the slight lilt to his words betraying his French origins. "I did not meant to startle you."

"It's okay," she replied automatically, "Are you here for an early breakfast?"

Jean frowned. "Er, not really. I was hoping to see you, actually."

"Oh," she tried for a tone of neutral curiosity, her head ringing with Scorpius' earlier warning. "Why's that?"

Jean gave a short chuckle. "You are the only person that I know, here at Hogwarts You are… familiar, that's all." He shot her a hesitant glance, as though weighing her reaction to his words. Rose tried not to let her thoughts show too clearly on her face. "I thought you might show me around this strange castle."

"Lorcan's showing the Beauxbatons students around," Rose replied a little too quickly. "I'm in charge of Durmstrang. And I'm really busy so…"

"I saw what happened yesterday," Jean interrupted. He edged closer and lowered his voice, forcing her to lean in to catch his words. "With your brother and that Durmstrang student. The fight."

"I'd hardly call it a fight," Rose responded scornfully. "And anyway, it was nothing, just a stupid – "

"His name is Scorpius Malfoy, no?" Jean continued as though he hadn't heard her. "The Durmstrang student. I remember you dancing with him, at the Delacour wedding. He is well known to you?"

Although it was quite possibly the understatement of the year, Rose gave only a nonchalant shrug. "I guess. Look, I'm sorry, I'd love to stay and chat, really, but – " she spotted Albus emerging from the Dungeons and seized on the distraction – "I really have to talk to my cousin about the program today. I'm sorry." She flashed him an almost sincere smile, then hurried away before he could protest.

Albus saw her coming and his features turned remarkably wary, whether from the expression on her face or the events of the previous night Rose wasn't sure. It made him look uncannily like his father.

"Thank Merlin you're here," she said by way of a greeting, skidding to a halt beside him and forcing herself not to turn around and check whether Jean was still watching her.

"Nice to see you too," her cousin greeted, his tone tenser than his words as he studied her face. "Everything alright?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Fine, I'm fine." Her eyes caught on his uniform, all black except for the Hogwarts coat of arms emblazoned on his chest, and she smiled. "Looking sharp, Captain."

Albus looked down at himself, his expression critical. "Feels wrong to be wearing Quidditch robes that aren't green," he said, tugging restlessly at his collar. "Stupid badger's going to be bad luck, I know it."

Rose rolled her eyes. "I think you might be missing the whole point of the exercise."

Her cousin's smile turned devilish. The resemblance to his father faded, and Rose thought she could see more of her Aunt Ginny in the mischievous smirk and twinkling eyes. "Nah, don't worry about that," he replied, his gaze sweeping the area around him with a calculating expression. "I know exactly what the point of the exercise is."

"And what's that?"

"To win," answered Albus shortly. "No matter the cost."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin."

Albus smirked and shouldered his broom. "I better go." He made to sidestep her, but stopped when she grabbed his sleeve at the last second.

"Albus, wait – " he frowned at her rather nervous tone, his attention switching to her completely.

"What is it?"

She bit her lip, briefly considering telling him about Scorpius' nocturnal visit and the warning he had given her about Jean. But the words died on her tongue. In the light of day it all seemed rather silly, and besides, what could Albus do to help her anyway? He wouldn't approve of her talking to Scorpius, and she couldn't blame him.

Albus shifted his weight impatiently. He was antsy; Rose could feel his nervousness radiating from him in waves. For all his bravado, she knew her cousin would be desperate to do Hogwarts proud. He had never really forgiven himself for the mess he had made of Slytherin's last game the year before, and this was the perfect opportunity to redeem himself.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I just wanted to say good luck, for today. I'll be cheering for you. And – " she made him meet her eyes and held his gaze – "don't do anything stupid, okay."

Albus groaned and rolled his eyes. "Merlin, you sound so much like mum…"

"Just promise me." She gripped his sleeve and refused to let go, even when he sighed dramatically.

"Alright alright, I promise, nothing stupid be good hug a Hufflepuff yada yada. You just worry about this lot – " he swept his arm around at the students milling about in the Entrance Hall. "And let me worry about the Quidditch." He ruffled her hair and smirked when she scowled, then pushed himself into the crowd. "See you later Rose."

"Good luck!" she called after him. Her heart felt heavy as she watched him go, although she wasn't sure why. Trying to shake the feeling, she straightened her back and surveyed the growing crowd now milling around her. The delicious smell of pancakes had been wafting out of the Great Hall for several minutes, and was starting to attract students in their droves. Through the open entrance, Rose could see a group of Durmstrang students perched at the end of the Slytherin table, casting surly glances around them as they poked at their food. From the expressions on their faces it was obvious last night's events had been neither forgotten nor forgiven. Rose sighed. It was going to be a long day.

There was no sign of Scorpius. Rose entered the dining area and strode up with what she hoped was confidence to the huddled group. She focused on the Captain, a thickset boy with prominent eyebrows and closely cropped brown hair. He frowned when he noticed her approach, but said nothing as she stopped beside them at the table.

"Hello, I'm Rose, the Head Girl of Hogwarts," her voice was painfully bright and Rose took a breath to ease her nerves. "You must be Dragic." She had rehearsed the name several times, and from the surprised reaction of the boy gathered she had managed not to mangle the pronunciation too badly.

He hesitated, then held out a hand for her to shake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she went on with her pre-rehearsed speech. "I'm in charge of making sure you all know where you are supposed to be this weekend. How are you finding your breakfast?"

The boy, Dragic, looked down at his plate, piled high with bacon, eggs and sausages, and gave a stoic nod. "It is good," he replied solemnly.

"Excellent," Rose clapped her hands together. "Well, the Headmistress has asked me to make sure you are down at the pitch by a quarter to – "

"Malfoy," one of the other students spoke up, and Rose's speech evaporated like mist on a summer's day. "Our Seeker. Vere is he?" The group turned expectant eyes on her, and she found herself stumbling for an answer.

"Well, I'm not quite – that is to say – I haven't – " she swallowed and pulled herself together. "I don't know where Mr Malfoy is. I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Ve have not seen him since last night," Dragic informed her. His eyes drifted to her hair and she had the uncanny sensation he was pairing it with Hugo's flaming mop from the night before. "We do not know vere he slept."

Rose shrugged her shoulders, fighting a blush. "Either do I, I'm afraid. Maybe he stayed with your teachers?" The question fell flat when the Durmstrang students scowled collectively.

"Ze boy – ze one who hit him," piped up the student who had spoken earlier. "Is he punished?"

Rose grit her teeth. Her smile was beginning to feel very forced. "Yes, he has been disciplined. Now, if you can make sure you eat your breakfast in time for – "

"Vy did he hit him?" the student persisted, and Rose almost screamed in frustration. "Ve did not hear, and Malfoy did not give a reason. Vy is it, do you know?"

"No, I don't." Her tone was sharp, and she saw several sets of eyebrows raise in surprise. Rose forced herself to take a deep breath. "As I said, I'm sure Mr Malfoy has his reasons for not being here yet and that when he's ready he will come. Now, I'm going to go and eat breakfast myself, and then at a quarter to nine we will go down to the pitch and prepare for the game. Is that okay?"

She waited until they had all nodded, then turned and walked stiffly over to the Gryffindor table, seating herself beside the first familiar figure she saw.

Lily took one look at her and grimaced in sympathy. "You look like hell. Here, have this." She placed a freshly buttered crumpet on Rose's plate.

Rose accepted the food gratefully. "Bloody Quidditch," she sighed. "Seriously Lil, if they offer you Head Girl in seventh year I advise you to run in the other direction."

"Thanks for your sage advice, but I doubt I'll be considered," Lily flicked her hair over her shoulder and eyed Rose critically. "Sleep alright?"

The question seemed loaded somehow, and Rose had to make an effort not to fidget. "Not the best," she hedged.

"Have you spoken to Hugo?"

"Yeah." Rose winced at the memory of that particular conversation. "Last night. We were both pretty angry."

There was something akin to understanding in Lily's eyes. "Yeah, I can imagine. I was mad at him too."

Rose fixed her younger cousin with a direct look. She had never quite seen eye to eye with Lily on a lot of things, but when it came to Scorpius it had often felt like she was the only member of her family that was even remotely on her side. Rose could still vividly recall the conversation the two of them had shared on the train back from Hogwarts at the end of sixth year; how Lily had accepted her relationship with Scorpius without a second thought. Without judgement. Rose toyed with her crumpet, deep in thought.

"Can I ask you something, Lil?" she said at last, somewhat hesitantly.

Her cousin's reply was immediate. "Of course."

Rose took a deep breath, staring at her plate until the porcelain began to swim in her vision. "If you… if you were in my shoes and… and Scorpius had left without – without giving you any word, any kind of reason, and ignored every letter you sent him for six months – " she glanced at Lily, but her cousin was listening with an impassive expression that made it difficult to judge her thoughts. Rose made herself go on. "And then – and then he came back and acted – and acted – "

"And acted like he was still in love with you?" Lily asked. Rose felt her chest tighten and she looked down at her plate. "What would I do? Is that what you're asking?"

"I don't know. I suppose. I just – I feel so – I don't understand him and I can't ask him and there's no one else who even tries to listen and I – " she broke off, miserable, and hung her head.

Lily seemed to hesitate. Rose watched out of the corner of her eye as her cousin chewed her lip, her fingers tracing a pattern over the table. She opened her mouth to speak, and Rose found herself leaning forward, her heart beat increasing as she waited.

"What am I interrupting?"

Rose jumped in her seat as Dom's voice shattered the moment. She glanced up to see her best friend slide in across from them at the table, blue eyes watchful and assessing. When neither Rose nor Lily offered an explanation, she rolled her eyes and dragged a tray of muffins towards her.

"Great, I just barged in at some crucial moment, didn't I? I'm now 'that person.'" She took a bite of muffin and moaned in satisfaction. "Sorry, needed food."

Rose attempted to offer some kind of smile. "It's fine," she said, straightening and deliberately avoiding Lily's gaze. "We were just – " her excuses died on her tongue when Dom shot her a patronising look, one that told her she knew exactly what the topic of their whisperings had been. "Talking," she amended, eyeing the restless group of Durmstrang students back at the Slytherin table. "Anyway, I'd better go."

"Seriously, don't stop on my behalf," Dom's voice was muffled from the mouthful of muffin. "I'll just sit here and pretend I can't hear you."

"I'll see you both down at the Quidditch pitch," Rose replied, ignoring her. "If I don't get another chance to tell you, good luck Lily."

Her younger cousin flashed her an easy grin. "You too."

"What does she need good luck for?" Rose heard Dom ask as she turned away. She hurried off before she could catch Lily's reply.

It was easy enough to herd the Durmstrang boys down to the Quidditch pitch. They were as eager to be out of the Great Hall and away from all the inquisitive eyes as she was, and seemed to relish the opportunity to stride purposefully across the castle lawns. They arrived earlier than scheduled; only a few students were up in the stands, and besides Professor McGonagall, a few teachers and the match officials, the grounds were empty. Rose enjoyed the temporary respite, knowing how crowded and loud it would become in under an hour.

She led her charges to their change room, showed them around and left them to get ready, promising to return closer to the start of the match. Then, unsure exactly what to do with herself, she wandered back to the centre of the grounds. She had been intending to ask Professor McGonagall if she needed any help, but the Headmistress was deep in discussion with a match referee Rose didn't recognise, examining the case of equipment to be used in the upcoming match, and didn't even notice her go past. Professor Millew and Professor Cauldrish were nearby, putting the final touches on the newly erected scoreboard, assisted by a few eager Prefects, and also waved away her attempts to involve herself. Rose kept walking, her eyes drawn by a huddle of Beauxbatons players that had arrived and were flying a little way away from the pitch, testing the conditions under close supervision from their own Headmistress and another match referee. Rose watched them for a few minutes, her feet taking her gradually away from the main huddle of activity, until she grew bored of their routine, repetitive movements and turned away.

From the top of the small hill that sloped away from the Quidditch pitch, it was possible to see most of Hogwarts' grounds spread out around her. On clear days such as this she could see to the opposite side of the Great Lake, and beyond to the dark canopy of forest that stretched from its banks. Rose let her eyes trace the shoreline, past the boat house and the willow she had loved to sit and relax under in earlier years. Her eyes skimmed over the oak tree, and Hagrid's hut, so glum and forlorn now without the gamekeeper's presence. Hurriedly, Rose kept her gaze moving.

Dumbledore and Hagrid's tombs had been erected side-by-side a little further along on the opposite bank. Rose almost passed them by, not wanting to dwell on the painful memories the sight of them stirred within her chest. But at the last second her eyes noticed the figure sitting at the water's edge beside them, his bowed head and hunched shoulders making him appear far smaller than he was. Rose's breath caught, and she suddenly found herself unable to move, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of him sitting there. His posture, stillness and the early morning light against his skin made him look carved from the same white marble as the tombs. Like he wasn't quite real, just a statue her imagination had conjured for her in her mind's eye.

Rose shook her head, blinking rapidly, and let out a sigh of relief when the vision of Scorpius sitting besides Hagrid's tomb didn't vanish. Then she frowned at herself. What in Merlin's name was wrong with her? Of course he was real – he was too real. And unimportant and cruel and dangerous and –

Somebody cleared their throat behind her. Rose tore her gaze from Scorpius with an effort, looking around in surprise. She could have screamed in frustration when she saw Jean standing a few feet away.

"Fancy seeing you here," he smiled warmly, though Rose thought she could see a slight tension to the corners of his gave him a once over, noting his Quidditch robes and the broomstick tucked under one arm. Jean followed her gaze and his smile stretched. "Are you going to wish me luck?"

Rose shifted her gaze back to Scorpius without replying. He was still seated beside Hagrid's tomb, head bowed, oblivious to his audience. All at once Rose felt rather guilty for spying on him. He had clearly gone off to be alone. She turned away again and gave Jean her full attention. "It wouldn't be very loyal to my own school if I did, would it?"

He shrugged. "I suppose not." His eyes drifted past her shoulders and Rose knew he was searching for what she had been looking at. Hurriedly, she stepped forward, drawing his attention once more with a wide smile.

"But that's not to say I don't wish you well. I certainly hope you beat Durmstrang at least."

"Ah." Jean's expression was a little too understanding. "Because of this…Scorpius?"

Rose strode past him without slowing. "Because my Aunt is French, actually, if you must know."

She fancied she could hear the sheepishness in Jean's next words. "I see. Forgive me, Rose, I did not mean – "

"It's fine," she answered curtly. "Shouldn't you be getting ready with the rest of your team?"

He didn't immediately reply, but she forced herself to keep walking. The sound of his footsteps behind her indicated he was keeping up. She didn't stop until they had reached the edge of the pitch. There were far more students milling about now; the stands were starting to fill and she could see brightly coloured banners unfurling everywhere. Many of the Hogwarts students had chosen sides for this game, since their own team wasn't participating. There was noticeably more blue than red.

Jean was looking at her, and she twitched under his scrutiny. "Was there something else you wanted?" she asked pointedly.

He blinked. She saw his eyebrows come together slightly, the hint of a frown on his features. His lips parted and he seemed about to speak, but in the end all he did was shake his head.

"I… think not. Well, I will see you, Rose." He turned without smiling and strode away towards the Beauxbatons change rooms. Rose swallowed her guilt, telling herself it didn't matter if he thought she was rude or not. Her eyes flit of their own accord back to the Great Lake. It was too far to make the tombs out clearly now, but Rose thought the space where Scorpius had been sitting looked decidedly empty. Her heart gave a painful thud in her chest.

She made her way along the perimeter of the pitch, deliberately dragging her feet to avoid reaching her destination. Halfway there, she was ambushed by Professor McGonagall, who insisted on running through every minute detail of the day's events, as though Rose did not already have it memorised by heart. Rose let her Headmistress talk, nodding her head and occasionally offering a word or two of assent, her thoughts far away. By the time she finally extricated herself, there were only around ten minutes until the teams were due out on the pitch. Rose hurried the rest of the way, her breath huffing in front of her and her heart thudding nervously, and came to an abrupt halt at the entrance to the changerooms.

There was nobody there. Rose cast her eyes around in confusion before turning and glancing up at the sky outside; sure enough, they were all up there, practising their drills and warming up much as the Beauxbatons students had done earlier. Rose let out her breath and slumped against the door-frame, then ran a hand over her face. It wasn't even nine in the morning and already her nerves felt frazzled and there was the hint of a headache tickling at the back of her skull. She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, rolling her shoulders to remove some of the tension.

She was just beginning to feel slightly more at ease when the door to the showers opened and Scorpius stepped out, half-naked, in front of her.

Rose couldn't help herself. Her mouth literally dropped open. Scorpius's chest was bare, a towel draped around his neck and his Quidditch robes folded over his hips in a way that made Rose's eyes sink treacherously downwards. She swallowed and dragged her gaze back upwards. Scorpius hadn't seen her yet, propped as she was in partial-shadow against the door-frame. For a split second, Rose wasn't sure what to do – slink away and try to pretend she hadn't seen anything, or announce her presence and deal with the awkwardness head-on. She hesitated, torn between the two options, and in that moment Scorpius glanced up and caught sight of her.

He froze, the shock on his face mirroring her own. His eyes swept around the empty room before fixing back on her. Rose fought a futile fight against the blush on her cheeks.

"I, uh – I came to – " she swept her hand around wordlessly. "I mean I – I just – " Make sense, dammit! "The game's about to start," she managed at last, choking out the words like they were filled with cement. Oh, Merlin.

Scorpius looked at her a moment longer, then turned and walked stiffly over to a neatly folded stack of clothes in the corner. Rose watched the muscles in his back as he lent and jerked out a maroon coloured shirt, yanking it over his head despite the still-damp nature of his skin. A vest followed, then the long-sleeved, protective cloak bearing his school's insignia. When he was fully dressed he sat down on the seat to pull on his Quidditch boots. Only then did he look at her, a half-glance from between damp tendrils of hair.

Rose wracked her brain for something to say. "I, um, I'm in charge of making sure the Durmstrang students know where to go." The words hung in the air between them, and she fought back a wince.

"I know," replied Scorpius. His expression was dead-pan, without a hint as to what he was thinking. Rose fidgeted.

"I notice you found Hagrid's tomb."

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Scorpius' head jerked up, and there was an unmistakable flash of pain in his eyes that made Rose's heart tighten painfully. His jaw stiffened and he yanked roughly on his boots. "Who's stalking now?" he asked, his upper lip curling.

The unfairness of the accusation tingled something in her stomach. "It was an accident," she answered quickly. "I was just surprised, that's all."

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "It's just – I didn't realise… "

Scorpius finished tying up his laces and stood up abruptly, stalking over to her until he was only a few feet away. His lips were pressed in a hard line. "Didn't realise what, Rose? That I'm still human? That I still care about my friends? That I actually have a heart?"

She sucked in a deep, painful breath, trying to get a grip on herself. Why was she suddenly so close to tears? Rose blinked, staring up at Scorpius as though seeing him for the first time. This was wrong, all wrong. He was the one who had left. He was the one who had ignored her letters for six months, then shown up at her doorstep with all these mixed messages and acting like some kind of martyr. He had broken her heart, not the other way around. So why was it that she was the one being made to feel bad about all of it?

"You really are a bastard," she whispered. The words were quiet enough that, had Scorpius still been sitting in his original position, he probably wouldn't have caught them. But from the way he flinched and recoiled in response, Rose knew he had. His skin paled, so that his lips stood out blood-red on his face, and he opened his mouth, then shut it again with a shake of his head. Wordlessly, he moved past her, swiping his broom from the wall as he did so.

For a heartbeat, they were so close that Rose could have reached out and touched his face had she had the courage. Her fingers twitched, and she curled her hands into fists, the nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palm. An apology hovered on the tip of her tongue; she swallowed it back until it felt like she was choking on her own tongue.

It was only a fleeting moment. A half-flicker of a chance. Then Scorpius was gone, vanishing out the door and into the open grounds of the Quidditch arena. And Rose was left standing, alone, in the empty room.