Trigger Warning: there are mentions of sexual assault and violence in this chapter. It's nothing too graphic, and I haven't changed the rating, but still... please proceed with caution.

.

Rose was flying. She could feel the wind in her hair, and the chill of it against her fingers where they wrapped around the handle of a broomstick. Far below, the lights of the village looked like tiny pinpricks of amber floating in a silky black canvas. She was so high up, and yet, strangely, she wasn't sure she knew how to get down. In fact, now that she thought about it, she didn't know how she had gotten up there in the first place. Her grip slid a little and she gasped, stomach clenching with a sudden rush of vertigo.

A strong arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her before she could panic. "Don't be scared," a voice whispered against her ear, tickling the sensitive skin there. Rose turned just enough to see the person behind her.

"Sc-Scorpius?"

He smiled crookedly, and nodded, his white-blonde hair seeming to glow in the moonlight. "Relax. You know I won't let you fall."

Her heart thumped and she tightened her grip, unable to make sense of it. "Wh-what are we doing up here?" she asked breathlessly.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Don't worry," he said, leaning close enough for his lips to brush hers. "Everything's going to be alright."

Drawn to him like a moth to flame, she lent into the kiss, a sigh escaping from between her lips when his tongue brushed hers. His hands were warm against her back, fingers tracing the curve of her waist before slipping up and into her hair. She pressed against him, shifting restlessly.

"I love you," she whispered, the words like a burst of heat gasped into the chilly night air. Scorpius, busy kissing her neck, didn't reply. She squeezed his shoulders to get his attention. "Scorpius, I - "

He glanced up, and the expression on his face made her blood curdle. The words she had been about to speak choked on her tongue. There was something wrong. He wasn't smiling anymore; instead his lips were twisted in a hateful sneer, and his eyes narrowed viciously. "I've waited so long for this," he said. Her throat closed in terror at the sound of his voice.

"You're not - not - " she struggled to get the words out as his face began to change, his features melting and reshaping, bubbling and twisting into the grey, leering visage of David Cheren.

He bared his teeth at her. "Give up, Rose. It's over."

She screamed, trying to twist out of the other man's grip. He only leered and tightened his hold, fingers stretching to wrap around her neck. Her breath left her in a rush and she shook her head.

"N-no… Scorpius…." Her vision blurred, and before her eyes his cheeks swirled and rippled, chin reddening, nose flattening and eyes widening until his features were transforming once again. Rose's pleas withered as she stared up at the person beside her.

"He's not coming for you, Rose," said Jean, his cold voice burrowing like a shard of ice into her chest. His fingers tightened around her throat and his pupils seemed to bleed into his eyes, turning them blood red. "Nobody is."

She whimpered, and tried to pull herself free, forgetting for a moment where she was. The broom slid from under her and she lurched backwards, feeling herself slipping through thin air. Her breath left her as gravity sucked her downwards with an irresistible force, sucking the scream from her lungs and sending the world tumbling into chaos. Jean sank with her, pinning her to his chest like a vice, his cold laughter ringing in her ears and his fingers digging into her windpipe, squeezing and squeezing until her sight began to blur and she was falling, falling into blackness….

Her eyes snapped open. Rose gulped in a desperate lungful of air, forcing down the pure panic and sense of vertigo that held her limbs rigid and made her pulse thunder in her ears. Nausea churned in her stomach as she registered the fact that she was not, in fact, falling through air, but had both feet planted firmly on hard ground. Her skin tingled and she tried to banish the aftershocks of horror that crawled over her skin like lice. Instead, she closed her eyes and allowed real memories to push their way into her aching, confused brain; the boy on the castle steps, the bullies… the arm wrapped around her waist, and that voice, so terrifyingly familiar, whispering -

She grit her teeth, refusing to give in to the harsh edge of fear that lapped at her mind. Dry lips cracked and burnt as she stretched her mouth, and she tasted the acrid heaviness of blood in the back of her throat, along with something sharp and bitter. Her skin was clammy with sweat, and behind the sticky, matted veil of hair clinging to her face her skull throbbed like someone had taken to it with a bludger. Rose forced herself to breathe through her nose, counting to ten to calm her violent heartrate, and gradually the nightmare faded from her vision, her physical surroundings materialising out of the mist to surround her.

She was in a small, windowless room, filled with what looked like piles of kitchen storage and assorted cardboard boxes with old, peeling labels. Squinting, she realised with a jolt of alarm that the writing on them was all in french. Rose swallowed another wave of nausea at the thought of what this must mean, before reaching up to push her hair back from her temple. Cold terror shot down her spine when she realised she could not move.

Looking down at herself, Rose registered somewhat numbly that her arms were tied behind her back. Her legs were strapped to a chair by cordless rope that snaked around her thighs and disappeared seamlessly into the cement floor. There was no sign of her wand.

Her skin prickled, and she became aware that she was not alone.

"Good, you're awake."

Her eyes darted in the direction of the speaker, and she lost her breath for the second time in a minute. Anger flooded through her, overriding terror and panic, and she balled her hands into fists, ignoring the sharp tug of the ropes cutting into her wrists. Rose grit her teeth, glaring at the man opposite her, wishing she had the ability to kill like a Basilisk.

Jean smirked at her reaction. He stood with one foot propped on a chair, resting his forearm on his raised knee and twirling his wand in one hand. He had shed his outer quidditch gear, but hadn't bothered to change the rest of his uniform. The pale blue emblem of Beauxbatons on his chest seemed to taunt her, glowing eerily in the artificial light.

"It's so wonderful to finally have your attention," Jean continued, and Rose's gaze snapped back to his. "It certainly hasn't been easy, you know."

"Where are we?" Her voice was hoarse, her throat dry as parchment. Rose winced and swallowed. "What do you want?"

Jean rolled his eyes. "Really? That's it? Where are we and what do I want? You couldn't have come up with something better than that? I've waited so long to speak to you, and they all claim you're the smart one. How disappointing."

Rose's brain whirred. She glanced around the room, tamping down a growing sense of hopelessness as she desperately tried to think her way out of this mess. Experimentally, she wriggled her hands behind her back, testing the give of the ropes constraining her. There was none at all, the tension biting into her circulation and sending a stab of pain up her arms as soon as she tried to move. A lump formed in her chest and her voice wobbled despite her best efforts. "I don't understand."

Jean's expression took on a decidedly sour look. He pushed off from the chair and stalked towards her, his movements predatory. Rose pressed herself back against the chair. "Of course you don't, stupid girl. Your kind never do."

Rose stared at him hard. Her mind turned back to Scorpius' warning, and she wanted to kick herself for not believing him. "My kind?"

"Yes," he answered softly, leaning down to stare into her face. "All you holier-than-thou, sanctimonious, self-righteous moral crusaders, who turned the world upside down and ruined countless lives because you couldn't stand people wanting to live differently from you. Because you hated not having the final say on how society should function."

She squinted at him, trying to make sense of his words. "So this… is about blood?" she guessed, and saw his lips tighten. "You're - you're punishing me for what my parents did in the war? Is that it?"

Jean straightened. "Punishing? I wouldn't use such a banal term. I prefer vengeful retribution for wrongs suffered." He glanced at her. "Don't you think it sounds better?"

She was beginning to sweat, her thought process slowing down then speeding up as anxiety crawled along her spine. Her tongue felt thick and heavy, and she began to crave a glass of water to moisten it. "It all amounts to the same thing, I guess," she said dully.

There was a brief pause as Jean considered her. Rose looked past him to the door, imaging it bursting open to reveal Scorpius, or her father, or her uncle Harry. But that was ridiculous. With the excitement of the Quidditch tournament and all the goings-on at Hogwarts, nobody would have even missed her yet. It would be hours before somebody thought to check on her, let alone figure out that she was missing. Please, oh please, let someone have noticed. Let Scorpius have -

"You know," said Jean, interrupting her silent prayer and forcing Rose to focus on his face. He advanced towards her again, tucking his wand into the waistband of his jeans and flexing his long, slender fingers. "I never did understand what he saw in you."

She met his gaze, forcing her breathing to calm, to not react to whatever he was about to do. His hands fell on either side of her chair, bringing his face so close she almost went cross-eyed trying to maintain eye contact. Jean smirked.

"I mean, you're decent enough, I suppose, for an English girl," he said, dragging his gaze down her form. Rose strained against the ropes that pinned her, but it was no use. She was trapped. "Nice little body. And your breasts, well..." Jean stared hungrily at her chest, leering when she jerked in anger. "Uh-uh, no biting now."

She glared at him with all the force she could muster. "Screw you."

He chuckled and trailed his hand along her throat. "Such fire. Maybe that's why he - but no. I mean, I can understand the physical side of things..." He undid her top button, languidly drawing it out of its socket before leaning back to admire the triangle of skin he'd exposed. "Oh, definitely. That part's easy. It's the reason I picked you, after all."

Rose held her breath and stared at the wall, her vision blurring as she bit her tongue hard enough to taste blood.

"But the poor fool actually seems to care about you," Jean continued, drawing the second button out and running the pad of his thumb across her collar bone. "Apparently, he spent half his time at Durmstrang locked in the owlery, sending grovelling letters to you. Imagine that, a Malfoy, pining after a Weasley." His lip curled. "Pathetic."

Rose jerked to face him, his words stunning her so much that for a moment she forgot where she was and what was being done to her. "What did you say?"

"'I'd almost given up on you, at that stage," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. His voice was soft, and dangerous, his thumbnail scratching her skin as he dragged his hand across her neck. "So well guarded, always surrounded by your vile, despicable family, not to mention that bloodtraitor Headmistress. Why bother, I thought, when there are so many easier targets. The others, they wanted Potter's boy. But, well, when I heard what Malfoy was doing - the way he was acting - then I knew you had to be the one, no matter what. The Potter brat can wait. I had to have you."

She barely even heard him. "Scorpius - wrote to me?"

Jean frowned, and the skin around his eyes tightened with annoyance. "We have spies everywhere, you know," he said, resuming his work on her shirt. She tried in vain to lean out of his reach. "Hogwarts, Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, the Ministry. We didn't all just disappear when your uncle destroyed the Dark Lord."

Her brain raced as she thought about this. She wondered if Jean was trying to trick her, but there was no reason for him to lie about such a thing. What purpose could it possibly serve him? And she could tell from his bemused expression that he hadn't expected such a response from her. But if he wasn't lying, then that meant - that had to mean -

"He'll give up eventually, you know," Jean drawled, watching her closely. "You're nothing but a cheap fling, a way to pass the time while he's bored at school." He ran a hand along her cheek, fingering a lock of her hair. "A forbidden fruit to taste before he marries the pureblood girl he is destined for. His… infatuation with you will pass."

Rose stared at him. Her heart began to pound and blood thundered in her ears, as she thought about all the times this had been said to her. By Draco, by her father, by Albus and Dom and her brother. She thought about all the times she had said it to herself, convinced that Scorpius had indeed left her, that she would never see or touch him again, that he'd grown as bored of her as they always said he would. She thought about the look in his eyes when he had stood outside her room Friday night. I care about you...

"You're wrong," she said, and Jean's eyebrows arched at her defiant tone. Her eyes stung but she blinked away the tears, summoning a deep breath and meeting his incredulous gaze head on. "You're wrong about him, all of you. Scorpius loves me, and I love him. It won't just pass. It's true and pure and something you will never - "

He backhanded her, hard. Her head snapped to the side, neck twisting painfully and ears ringing as the ache in her head exploded in a siren of agony. Rose sucked in a dry, painful breath, stunned by the sudden violence, too winded to even cry out. Blood trickled from her mouth and she coughed, trying to gather her careening thoughts, feeling her jaw throb and her vision swim from the impact of the blow.

"Salazar, you bore me," Jean drawled, then pulled his wand from his jeans and used it to rip her shirt clean open. Rose screamed as her chest was exposed to the chill air and Jean's critical gaze. "Green, really Weasley?" he remarked, prodding dispassionately at her thin cotton bra. "What were you hoping to achieve with that, hmm? Stupid whore, I guess I'll just have to - " he broke off, his eyes narrowing in irritation as he turned his head to face the door. Through the ringing in her ears and the sick pounding of her head, Rose dimly made out the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She held her breath as Jean pulled back and raised his wand, praying with everything she had that somehow, miraculously, they had managed to find her.

The door opened, and David Cheren strode into the room, along with several men wearing masks. Jean lowered his wand, and Rose's stomach sank. This time, she couldn't hold back a choked sob.

Cheren's hard, unforgiving gaze swept the scene, lingering on Rose's exposed chest before finding Jean and flashing in apparent fury. Without a word, he strode forward and seized the younger man around the throat.

"What in the Dark Lord's ever-holy name do you think you're doing, boy?"

Jean struggled for a moment, pushing back, before his arms went lip and his head dipped. "Nothing," he wheezed, shooting a poisonous glare in Rose's direction from under his fringe.

"Don't look like nothin'," commented one of the masked men. Rose bit her tongue hard at the familiar voice; here was another of her attackers from the Forbidden Forest. "Looks like you was helping yourself to a piece o' the prize before the rest of us got 'ere."

"Quiet!" hissed Cheren before Jean could reply. His fingers tightened, and Jean's skin began to splotch a nasty red. "I told you to stay outside. How many times - how many times must you be reminded?"

Jean was scrabbling at his throat, turning progressively redder the longer he went without breath. "U-uncle," he choked out, and Rose's heart gave a thud of alarm. "P-lease…"

Cheren bared his teeth in a snarl. "I warned you, boy. These things are not like us - they are dirty, impure, unclean. You are never to sully yourself by touching one of them. You do not desire them; you do not even think about desiring them. Do I make myself clear?"

Jean, unable to speak, nodded vigorously. Cheren held him for a moment longer, before releasing him with a disgusted snarl. Jean collapsed on the floor, spluttering, his hands pressed to his chest as though to assure himself his heart was still beating.

"Good," said Cheren. He turned and walked back to the door, his lackies following like shadows. "Now get her up, we're moving."

For a moment there was silence save for Jean's ragged, breathless pants. Rose felt her chest constrict until the room began to spin, and her head throbbed with such agony she couldn't hold back a delirious whimper. Her gaze flit around the room, from Cheren to the masked men to Jean, still crouched on his hands and knees. Deep in her gut she knew there was no point in begging, but the words spilled out of her regardless, like a desperate flood of tears.

"Please, please don't do this. I - I can't - I'm sorry, oh god..." she was shaking uncontrollably, her tongue stumbling thickly as images of her family flitted before her mind's eye; her mother and father, her brother, her cousins, him. Tears ran hot and salty down her cheeks and dripped onto her bare chest, and through the swimming blur of her vision she saw Jean push himself to his feet and stalk towards her. Terror lodged like a shard of glass in her windpipe.

"Time to move, princess," he whispered savagely, his own voice almost as hoarse as hers and his eyes hateful as he regarded her. With a vicious sneer, he angled his wand at her face, the tip so close it nearly touched her. "Any last words?"

Terrified, Rose choked out one last, incoherent plea. "Please, Scorpius - "

Jean scowled, and thrust the wand against her forehead. "Stupefy!"

And the world exploded in red.

"This is ridiculous, we don't have time for this - "

"It's an important part of the process Ron, you know this - "

"My daughter is in danger, and we're here arguing over details!"

"Those details could help save Rose's life - "

"I want to talk to him. Let me at that slimy git - "

"Ron please, this isn't helping!"

"Gerroff me, Hermione! I knew it, I knew he was up to something when he came back here - "

"Ron, he's seventeen, he's only a - "

"I don't care if he's bloody twelve! If he's touched her, I'll kill him with my bare hands!"

Scorpius winced. He glanced at Professor McGonagall, who sat facing him on the other side of her formidable desk. The Headmistress stared back steadily, her gaze never wavering despite the commotion of voices outside.

"Ron, I'm not letting you in there until you calm down." This was Albus' dad; Scorpius could recognise the weight of authority in Harry Potter's voice anywhere. "You're no help to anybody if you go in there brandishing your wand."

There was a punctuated silence, before Ron let out a heavy breath, followed by a stream of curses that would have made the Bloody Baron blush. Scorpius glanced again at Professor McGonagall, but the Headmistress' expression remained implacable. Behind her, the magical clock erected on the wall showed that it was half past three; already, nearly twenty minutes had elapsed since Scorpius dragged Professor McGonagall unceremoniously from the Quidditch in a desperate attempt to make her realise Rose was gone. Scorpius frowned. They were wasting so much time.

After a minute of furious whispering, the door to Professor McGonagall's office opened. Harry Potter walked in, looking grim, Ron and Hermione shadowing his footsteps. Scorpius could practically taste Mr Weasley's thunderous rage; it was palpable, pulsing in the air around them and making the room vibrate with angry energy. But beneath it was a roiling anxiety Scorpius felt echoed in his own chest, a seasick churning that made his skin itch and his throat ache.

"Scorpius." Harry's voice was filled with a quiet urgency. Scorpius dragged his gaze to the Head Auror, trying not to be unnerved by the man's similarity to his best friend. Ex-best friend, he reminded himself sternly. "I need you to tell me everything you know about Rose's disappearance."

"I've already explained everything to Professor McGonagall," Scorpius said, his gaze darting to the clock again. "We're wasting time here, we should be - "

"Just answer the question Malfoy," snarled Ron.

Scorpius took a deep breath, willing himself to keep calm. There would be time enough to hash things out with Rose's dad later. "I came back to Hogwarts because I heard - rumours - about an attack while I was at Durmstrang," he said woodenly. "Something targeted at the Golden Trio and their offspring. I - I sent..." he broke off, grimacing as he thought about Lily's earlier revelation regarding his letters, then forcibly pushed it to the back of his mind. That could wait, too. "I sent letters warning her about it, but when I - when I didn't get a reply, I knew I had to find a way to get back here and warn her."

"Why not report these rumours straight to the Auror Department?" Harry asked in a hard voice. "If you were so concerned for Rose's safety, why not tell us?"

"It was hardly… they were just rumours," he said. "I thought if I could just come and keep an eye on her, make sure she was safe - " he ignored the scathing noise Ron made - "then it would be alright. I didn't even know if I was being completely paranoid or not."

Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Go on."

"I was keeping an eye on her. I warned her not to go near Jean, from the Beauxbatons team. She didn't listen."

"What made you suspicious about Jean?" asked Harry, as Ron began to pace behind him.

Scorpius grit his teeth. "I watched him at Teddy and Victoire's wedding." Ron ground to a halt, staring at him. "He was following Rose around, sticking to her side, talking to her every chance he got. She didn't even know him, and I could tell she wasn't interested." The night she told you that she loved you. "We could both tell, but he wouldn't quit. It made me suspicious, especially since - "

"Why didn't you mention any of this at the wedding?" Ron interrupted, stepping forward and ignoring Harry's warning look. "Pretty convenient to be bringing all this up now, isn't it?"

Scorpius stared back at him. "As I recall, Mr Weasley, I wasn't given much of a chance to converse with you after... our fight."

There was a chilled, uncomfortable silence. Ron's face turned an ugly puce colour; he looked as though he wanted to throttle Scorpius, and Scorpius almost willed him to try. He dragged his concentration back to the matter at hand when Harry spoke again.

"So you deduced that Jean Daly might be in league with David Cheren?"

He nodded. "I mean, it was just a guess. But yeah, I didn't trust him. And then when I saw him back here, at Hogwarts, and following Rose around again, well… I didn't like it. I warned her to stay away from him."

"When was this?" Harry asked, and Scorpius' chest tightened. He looked away, staring at a blank stretch of wall to his right.

"Friday night," he muttered.

Harry's eyebrows connected. "You saw Rose on Friday night?" he asked, his gaze skidding to his best friend and back to Scorpius. "Where?"

He fought to keep his voice steady, despite the pressure of four sets of eyes on him. "Outside her room. I… visited her there."

There was a heavy pause. Scorpius could feel Ron drilling holes into his skull; he strove to ignore it. "There's one more thing," he said, and Harry raised his eyebrows for him to continue. "Teddy and Victoire's wedding wasn't the first time I met Jean."

Harry lent forward, his green eyes keen and shrewd. "Go on."

Scorpius opened his mouth to comply, when a commotion outside the door cut him off. A familiar voice rang out, sharp with anger.

"I demand entrance this instance!"

"Mr Malfoy, please - "

"Not another word, Filch. My son is being held in there like a prisoner! Potter and Weasley are in there! If they won't let me in, I'll blast these gargoyles down!"

The atmosphere in the room plunged to freezing. Ron drew his wand, and Scorpius sprang to his feet, torn between an irrational desire to block the door and flee the scene. At the same time Professor McGonagall rapped out in a sharp voice that brought everyone to attention.

"Ron, put your wand away, now. Scorpius, sit. Draco, enter." At her final word, the stone doorway melted away, revealing the winding staircase upon which Scorpius' father perched, Filch hovering anxiously behind him. Immediately, Draco rushed into the room, and the door shut with a clang behind him.

"Scorpius!" Draco paused a few feet away, his grey eyes sweeping the scene, lingering on Ron's red face and Harry's grim frown. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Scorpius stared back at his father, unable to conjure anything to say to him. Rose never got any letters. His head rang with Lily Potter's words and his lip curled. With a pointed stare, he made sure his father caught the change in his features. A myriad of expressions flitted across Draco's face in response, his eyes widening with understanding before tightening in a pinched frown.

"Well?" Draco said when nobody answered him. His gaze shifted from Scorpius to Professor McGonagall, then to Harry, pointedly grazing over Ron. "Why is my son being treated like some kind of criminal? McGonagall, your patronus didn't exactly explain - "

"Your son -" Ron began furiously, before Harry cut him off.

"We have reason to believe Scorpius may be able to help us in our investigation." His features turned grave, and for the first time Scorpius could see the lines of worry etched on Harry Potter's face. He'd almost forgotten that the man was Rose's uncle. "Rose is missing, Draco."

"And you think my son is to blame, do you?" Draco responded coolly.

"Nobody's saying that - "

"But if he is," Ron interrupted in a loud voice, giving Draco a murderous stare. "Rest assured he will suffer for it."

Draco's wand appeared in his hand, and he took several steps towards Ron. "Is that a threat?"

"Only if you want to make it one."

Draco sneered. "Your daughter seems to have inherited your incorrigible appetite for trouble, Weasley. And I see you take no more responsibility for it than you ever did - "

"Keep talking, ferret," spat Ron, a vein pulsing on his temple. "I hear Azkaban is nice this time of year. You might remember - "

"If only you spent as much time watching her as you do throwing insults," replied Draco, and Ron's face paled in a pure kind of fury that made Scorpius want to take a step back.

"One more word, Malfoy, and I swear to God - "

"Stop it, both of you!" Hermione interrupted in a commanding tone. She got to her feet, chin quivering and her gaze ragged with desperation as she turned to Scorpius. "Please, Scorpius, you were saying?"

He cleared his throat. "I knew I'd seen Jean somewhere before. When I met him at Teddy's wedding I - but I couldn't put my finger on it, why he seemed so familiar. When they said his name was Jean, I thought maybe I was mistaken, because I'd never heard it before. But I'm not. Even if he has grown up, and dyed his hair... even using a different name, I still recognised him. And now I know that I was right."

Hermione's eyes were glassy, her entire body taut as she waited for him to continue. Scorpius could practically smell the anxiety patterning her skin. He swallowed thickly.

"I only met him once, years ago, when my father took me to France on a family holiday." Scorpius felt his father's eyes on him, but ploughed on without meeting his gaze. "This was before Hogwarts. We were a lot younger and Jean - well, he wasn't called Jean. That wasn't his name, when I met him back then."

"What was his name?" asked Harry, leaning forward.

Scorpius allowed himself the briefest glance in his father's direction. Draco stood like a statue, watching him. "We called him Orry. But his full name was - "

"Orelio Lestrange," Draco finished for him, looking ashen. He stared straight at Scorpius, and there was something about his gaze that locked him in place. "You're saying Orelio Lestrange was at Hogwarts? Here, now?"

Scorpius nodded, and Draco ran a trembling hand over his jaw.

"And just who the hell - " bellowed Ron, so loudly his companions winced. "Is Orelio Lestrange? You can't seriously be telling me that - "

"Rabastan's grandson," Draco cut in flatly. His eyes were on Ron, but they were glazed, as though he were looking straight through him to something none of the rest of them could see. "The boy was an orphan before he was two years old. His aunt raised him."

"The parents?" asked Ron roughly.

"Died with Rabastan in the shoot-out," answered Draco flatly. "Tommas and Irina Lestrange, I believe."

"Irina?" Harry's forehead creased. "What was her maiden name?"

Draco tilted his head. "Cherenova, if I recall."

"Chereno - "

All at once, McGonagall snapped into action. "Contact the French authorities," she said, addressing Harry while Ron cursed and kicked the wall. "Get all known addresses for the Lestranges and any close associates with the last name Cheren or Cherenova. Inform them we have a missing person who may be being held unlawfully within their jurisdiction. It's imperative that they provide us with - "

"There's no need," Draco interrupted. The eyes of the room turned to fix on him.

Ron strode toward him, his outline quivering with fury. "What the hell do you mean, there's no need? That's my daughter you're - "

Draco silenced him with a withering look. "I mean there's no need to ask for the Lestranges' address," he said, staring past Ron to where Scorpius stood. Their eyes met, and something in Scorpius' gut twisted painfully at the look on his father's face. He didn't know what to make of his reaction, and he couldn't bring himself to dwell on it when his worry for Rose was already consuming such a large portion of his mental energy. He found himself holding his breath as Draco spoke. "I know it. I know all of them."

"Draco," Hermione's voice was quivering and laced with fear, but she stood straight-backed as she addressed Scorpius' father, her brown eyes pleading with him silently. "What are you saying?"

Draco met her gaze, and there was such intensity in it that for a moment Scorpius swore the air between them crackled. "If they've taken Rose to France, then I know exactly where she is. I will help you find her."