Language warning for those of you who speak a bit of French ;)
Think. Think. THINK.
Rose knew she had to move, and fast. She knew that. And yet, as she stood there leaning shakily against the wall, a foreign wand clutched in one sweaty, white-knuckled hand, and the harsh rush of her breath filling the air around her like steam, all her thoughts turned suddenly to treacle. Her skin prickled, blood pumped forcefully through her veins, and her heartbeat echoed like the drums of war, harsh and desperate, against the barrier of her ribcage.
Inside her skull, however, there was nothing but a distant, mindless buzzing.
Think, dammit!
A plan. She needed a plan. Swallowing hard, Rose closed her eyes and clutched desperately for a location, anywhere that wasn't where she currently stood. A picture of the Burrow flashed into her mind, its awnings and ramshackle chimneys glinting fondly in the morning light. Keeping the image clear in her mind, Rose took a deep breath, gripped the wand like a lifeline, and span haphazardly on the spot.
Nothing happened.
She staggered sideways, wincing from the pressure that squeezed her chest. The air wrapped itself around her, so thick and heavy with anti-Apparition wards that turning felt like wading through an impedimenta. Her legs trembled, and she gave them a quick shake to reassure herself she wasn't rooted to the spot.
Never mind, she chanted silently, wiping her over-heating palms on her jeans and trying to subdue the panic that clawed at her throat. She'd have been more likely to splinch herself than end up anywhere safe.
Next option. Quickly.
Remembering the Floo Powder she had seen in the parlour, Rose leapt for the door. At the last instant she turned, and, with a deep breath, cast a disillusionment charm over the prostrate girl lying on the cracked bathroom floor. Her spellwork was shoddy, and the wand resisted her fiercely, but the result was effective enough to deceive a cursory glance. It would have to do, she decided, casting one on herself as well before slipping out the door and back the way she had come, all her senses tingling in anticipation of being stopped.
There was nobody in sight. Rose took a deep breath, then, with a quick glance at the top of the stairs, bolted across the Entrance Hall towards the elaborate front doors, charging at them as if she could will them to open through sheer desperation.
If she could only get outside.
The thought coursed through her like a prayer, and for a brief moment she forgot all about trying to obtain the Floo Powder, or send a patronus, or any other half-formed plan currently floating through her overwrought brain. All she could think about was getting out. Out, where she could Apparate, or send for help, or just run and run until there were a thousand miles between her and the Cherens and the Lestranges and whoever else was lurking in this godforsaken prison of a mansion.
Choking back a sob, Rose ran her fingers over the smooth oak polish, down to the ornate golden handles that beckoned her so temptingly. They were hot to the touch, and sent a shock of energy darting up her arm when she tried to take hold. Even without attempting a spell, it was obvious there were layers of spellwork encasing them.
"Finite Incantatum," she whispered, and felt the wand in her hand twitch in resistance. "O-obstructo impedimentum," she tried in a louder voice. The doors shook but didn't open. Her thoughts tripped over themselves with possibilities, but there wasn't time, it was impossible to attempt each one, and besides, she had to -
"Who's there?"
The voice rang out from the top of the stairs. Rose whirled around, tensed to flee, before remembering she had disillusioned herself and freezing like a rabbit in headlights.
Jean skulked at the top of the landing, his eyes narrowed and his head cocked like a bloodhound that has caught a scent. Rose could tell just from looking that he was aware of her presence, even if he wasn't staring at her directly. She took a deep, steadying breath, and made herself as still as a gargoyle.
"Isabella!" Jean called out, his gaze darting around the room the way a detective's might, searching for clues. The silence stretched along a knife's edge. "Isabella?" he repeated, with a sharper bite. "Where are you?"
Rose held her breath, biting her lip to avoid any chance of making a sound. She watched Jean's expression darken, and his hands clench into fists by his side. The grip she held on her stolen wand became white-knuckled.
Slowly, menacingly, Jean began to pace down the stairs. When he was halfway down, he raised his wand. Rose stiffened, but he wasn't aiming at her. His spell hit the parlour door instead, blowing it open with a bang and revealing the empty seat to which she had been strapped just minutes ago.
There was an ominous silence.
"What have you done to my sister, you little bitch?" Jean spat, and Rose flinched as the words whipped towards her. He hurried down the rest of the stairs, then paced into the parlour room before exiting a moment later, eyes frantic. "Where is she?"
Rose forced herself to breathe. Against her back, the spell-locked entrance doors were uncomfortably warm, trembling with the weight of their incantations. If only she had had a little more time...
"I know you're here, Weasley." Jean padded into the centre of the room like a cat stalking its prey. "The doors are barred. You can't escape. I know you're in here."
There was no choice but to stun him, she decided, readjusting her grip and lifting her wand arm an inch at a time to avoid detection. She just had to pray she would be quick enough. And that her stolen wand was willing to co-operate. Rose winced as she swallowed over what felt like a chunk of cement lodged in her throat.
"If you've hurt my sister, you don't want to know what I'll do to you," Jean continued, his upper lip curling into a snarl. "You'd better come out, Weaslette. It's only going to be worse for you the longer you hide." He waited, mock-listening, and Rose wondered that he couldn't hear her heartbeat, so loudly did it seem to ring around the room. "Time's up," he snapped after a moment, lifting his wand and pointing it vaguely in her direction, his dark eyes flashing with malice. "Have it your way, then."
This is it.
With a final steadying breath, Rose aimed her weapon at Jean's chest. Her lips parted, but before she could speak, the wand in her hand gave a violent jerk. A low-pitched whine burst out of it, as though it were calling to Jean from across the room.
There was no time to process the betrayal. Jean's eyes snapped in her direction at the sound, and a blaze of triumph lit up his face as he caught sight of her.
"Gotcha!" he said, the tip of his wand starting to glow. Rose braced herself, her entire body seizing in anticipation of the pain to come. She already knew Isabella's wand would not block the spell. Against her will, her eyes slammed shut. "CRUCI - !"
There was a thud, and the sound of something hitting the floor. Rose wondered if it was her, though the blinding agony she'd been expecting hadn't materialised. The sound of her breathing filled her ears, but she wasn't screaming, and somehow her legs were still supporting her. The traitorous wand dangled innocently at her side, clutched in her fist.
The seconds ticked by. Finally, when she could bear the uncertainty no longer, Rose cracked open an eye. The world blurred then refocused, and she found herself staring, mouth open in an expression that might have been comical under different circumstances, at the scene before her.
Jean lay in a limp puddle on the floor, his limbs splayed and his blank face pressed to the marble, as though he had been felled by an invisible club. Rose gazed at his body in disbelief, half-expecting him to spring back to life and attack her the moment she blinked or looked away. She watched in disbelief as his wand, held loosely in his slack right hand, lifted into the air seemingly of its own accord, then disappeared entirely.
Then, just as she was beginning to wonder if she was suffering the delayed effects of a severe concussion, or some other panic-induced delirium, a voice that resonated like Felix Felicis through her chest echoed quietly into the thick, charged silence.
"That was so much more satisfying than a stupefy."
Rose almost choked on her own tongue. "Sc-Scorpius?" she spluttered, then pulled up short, wondering if this was another trick, or if the stress and hysteria of the day had finally taken its toll on her. She had to be hearing things, because he couldn't possibly - he couldn't actually be -
There was a sound like rustling silk, and then, to Rose's complete astonishment, Scorpius' disembodied head appeared in mid-air, a foot or so behind Jean's unconscious body. His hair was mussed, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes shone bright and fierce as they fixed on her across the room. He looked as real and tangible as if she had conjured him through the sheer power of her imagination alone.
Only… Rose pinched herself, painfully, but the image of Scorpius' floating head didn't waver. This wasn't a dream, she realised with a jolt that rippled down her spine like a current of electricity. This wasn't a figment of her imagination. Somehow, miraculously, Scorpius was here.
Here. He's here. The words processed very slowly through her skull. Scorpius. He's -
"Rose?" Scorpius' urgent tone jerked her out of her trance-like state. Rose blinked at him. His gaze was pinned on her as if he could see her perfectly, and his expression was drawn in a frown. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Are you - "
She flew towards him, all thought vanished from her mind. She didn't care if she was hallucinating, if she'd been knocked on the head without realising, or if this was all just a figment of the desperate, indescribable longing for his presence that had bubbled in her veins for months now. She didn't care that she was trapped in enemy territory and had probably been moments from crippling torture a few seconds ago; that Jean lay unconscious on the floor in front of her or that there were probably more Death Eaters lurking in the upper storeys. She didn't care about any of it at all.
With a muffled cry, Rose threw herself into Scorpius' invisible arms. She pressed herself against the silky fabric covering his body, squeezing so hard it was as if she could sink into his chest through willpower alone. There was a thud as though he had dropped something, before an answering pressure enveloped her, and his arms lifted to wrap around her body, so warm and familiar it was almost agony.
"You're okay." She heard him whisper the words, so softly they felt kissed into her skull. "You're okay Rose. You're okay."
A single tear breached her defences, spilling itself into the soft material of his shirt. She drew back, ever so slightly, and drank in the sight of him for one long moment. Then, without waiting for him to speak, without giving his image a chance to shatter or her mind an opportunity to come crashing back to reality, Rose closed her eyes, leant forward, and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him with all the force that she could muster.
It was only for a moment - now was hardly the time to be making out, after all - but when she pulled back, Scorpius looked as though he had been thumped by a bludger. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he planned to say was cut off by a rustle and, to Rose's dismay, the sudden appearance of Albus' head directly beside them.
"Merlin Rose!" her cousin snapped, his expression torn between relief and indignation. "Is now really the time?"
"Al!" she squeaked, tearing her gaze from Scorpius with an effort and blinking in astonished surprise at her cousin, before throwing her arms around him too. "But how - why - "
"Nevermind that," said Albus, disentangling himself from her and giving her a critical once-over. "What's wrong with your disillusionment charm - I could see your hair from the other side of the room!"
She flushed. "It's this wand," she said, holding it up for them to see. "It belongs to Jean's sister and, well - "
Silently, Scorpius drew his own wand out and tapped her on the head with it. The familiar warm sensation trickled down her spine, and she shivered.
"That's better," said Albus.
"But - but - what are you doing here?" she asked, registering their presence properly for the first time. "How did you even get in - there are wards everywhere and - "
"It's a long story." Scorpius moved past her towards the door, his head still bobbing in mid-air. She watched as he gave the handles a firm shake, then stepped back, studying them thoughtfully.
"You shouldn't be here," she begged, casting a quick, panicked glance up the stairwell. It appeared nobody else had followed Jean downstairs, but it was sure to be only a matter of time. "If anyone sees you - "
"Yeah yeah," interrupted Albus, joining Scorpius in his perusal of the doors. "Maybe save the lecture for another time, hey Rose?"
She glared, but had to admit he was right. "I already tried finite incantatum," she said instead to Scorpius, who had got his wand out and was running it over the oak much as Rose had done. "But not - "
"Ostium Exumai," he muttered. The doors glowed red-hot, and emitted an ear-splitting groan as if they were physically cracking apart.
There was a shout from upstairs. Scorpius seized the handle, but though it shuddered tantalisingly beneath his grip, the doors remained sealed. Cursing, he span around and grabbed Rose by the wrist, yanking her against his chest and wrapping the cloak around them before she had a chance to react. His lips pressed to her ear and the whisper of his breath rushed warm over her neck.
"Don't move. I've got you."
Before she could reply, there was a thundering approach of footsteps. Rose turned so that her cheek was pressed into Scorpius' chest, her arms snaking around his waist of their own accord. Beside them, Albus huddled close, hunched slightly so as to fit himself beneath the invisibility cloak.
In seconds, a large, burly wizard had appeared at the top of the stairs. "Who's there?" he shouted, before catching sight of Jean's slumped figure and scowling darkly. "Homenum revelio!"
A rushing noise swept around the room. Rose stiffened, waiting for the cloak to fly off and reveal the three of them standing there. But it didn't so much as twitch in response.
When nothing happened, the man pointed his wand at Jean instead. "Rennervate."
There was a flash of red light, and Jean stirred, groaning and rubbing the back of his head as his eyes blinked open.
"What's going on?" the man demanded. Jean jerked at the sound of the voice, limbs sliding absurdly on the polished marble floor as he struggled to sit up. His gaze swivelled back and forth in confusion before landing on the object Scorpius had let fall to the ground - a candlestick, Rose saw now - and ignited with remembered fury.
Instantly, he was on his feet. "I - I - that little bitch attacked me!" He swayed dangerously, as if a flood of vertigo had struck him. "That - that - putain je vais la tuer - "
"Enough." The man cut off Jean's tirade of French in a cold voice. "Where's Isabella?"
Jean rubbed his head again, cringing. "I - I don't know… "
There was a tense silence. "You don't know?" the man repeated.
Jean flushed. "I sent her to check on the girl, like you told me, Rooke, but she - she - she's here!" he shouted suddenly, revolving on the spot. "The Weasley slut. I know she is." He shoved his hand in his robe pocket, before his eyes flared and he snatched it out again, empty. "That - that putain stole my wand! How - how - use homenum revelio!" he ordered, spinning to face his accomplice.
"I already did," snapped Rooke, pacing down the rest of our stairs. When he was close enough, he stopped to give Jean a look of utter contempt. "So you've lost your sister, let our prisoner escape, and now you tell me she's disarmed you and stolen your wand. Your uncle will be pleased."
Jean's face turned splotchy with rage. He staggered about the room, wobbling like the floor was a ship in rough seas, his hands outstretched as if he could physically wrench Rose's existence out of thin air. She flinched as he passed close to where the three of them stood. Her palms were sweating so badly she could barely get a grip on her wand, and her mind was buzzing in a way that was making it impossible to think straight. It was bad enough that she had been trapped here, but now Albus and Scorpius as well… if something happened to them because of her stupidity, she would never forgive herself.
"Check the rest of the downstairs," the stranger was ordering Jean, who had finally stopped staggering about and now stood swaying in the centre of the room, red-faced and breathing like a bison. "They can't have gone far. I'll alert the others - "
Jean's face turned the colour of curdled milk. "No," he gasped, taking half a step towards the man and raising his hands. "Rooke you c-can't - you - "
Rooke lifted his wand threateningly, and Jean went very still, eyes wide. "Don't tell me what I can and cannot do, boy. Your uncle left me in charge, so you can just - "
An almighty crack drowned out the rest of his words, and both Rooke and Jean span towards the sound, which had seemed to come from outside the house. Their faces wore identical expressions of shock and fear.
"Was that - "
The front doors exploded inwards. Huddled as Albus, Rose and Scorpius were against it, the force of it threw the three of them forward, and Rose clung to the two boys as they tumbled and skid across the room, only just managing to keep the cloak in place around them. Thankfully, Jean and Rooke's attention was fixed on the entrance, where the hulking form of David Cheren had appeared.
"They're here," he announced before anyone could speak, striding into the Entrance Hall and glancing around. "Potter and the rest of them - they've arrived. Get the girl, and alert the others."
There was a thick, expectant silence. For the space of a breath, nobody moved. Then Cheren spoke again, his voice slow and deliberate and his smouldering gaze fixed on Jean where he stood in the centre of the room.
"Fetch. The girl."
Even from a distance, Rose could see the sweat trickling down Jean's forehead. He swallowed thickly, his gaze darting about the room like a trapped animal, and his free hand came up to tug restlessly at his collar.
"I - I - "
"He's let her escape," said Rooke. The words fell like stones into the silent room. Rose clung a little harder to Scorpius, and felt his arm tighten around her in response.
Cheren had his back to them, facing his companions, so it was impossible to read his expression. But the tone of his voice held enough danger to bring goosebumps to her skin. It was like a knife, slicing through the toxic air.
"You," he spat at Jean, who blinked, shrinking in on himself as if to hide in the non-existent shadows. "After everything that has happened, everything we have worked for… I bring us Potter. Potter! The ultimate goal! And you tell me - YOU TELL ME!" he roared suddenly, and Jean flinched as if the words were a physical blow. "THAT YOU HAVE LOST THE GIRL!"
"N-not lost - " Jean attempted to say in a feeble voice, but with a roar Cheren cut him off, shooting a blast of purple light at Jean which rendered him instantly mute.
"Where is she?" he demanded of Rooke, whose gaze flit between his two companions, clearly fearing that he might be next.
"I heard a bang," he answered quickly. "I ran down here to find the boy unconscious, and the girl gone. She took his wand."
Cheren let off a string of french curse words, but Rose was distracted by Scorpius suddenly prodding her in the ribs. She almost jumped, twisting her head so she could look at him.
Move, he mouthed silently, using his eyes and his body to indicate the now open front doors. Rose blinked. In the commotion of Cheren's arrival, she hadn't even realised that their path to freedom had opened miraculously before them.
Nodding, she began to shuffle, with agonising slowness, towards the entrance. It was tough going. Her nerves were jangling, and it took every bit of concentration she had to make sure she moved in time with Albus and Scorpius, to ensure she didn't cause the cloak to slip or catch an edge of it and give them away. Around her, Scorpius' arms were sure and strong, and she took comfort from their steadiness, since her own felt like they had been jinxed to jelly.
Behind them, Cheren was still speaking, issuing a string of commands to Rooke and the mute Jean. Rose tuned him out, focusing on what she was doing, on what she needed to do to survive. Allowed the tiniest seed of hope to germinate in her chest.
Abruptly, Scorpius stiffened. He ground to a halt, seizing Albus' shirt to ensure he did the same. Rose mimicked the action, holding her breath, and an instant later she realised why. Cheren charged past them, back out the doors, passing barely a hand span from where the three of them stood, clutched together like a moving human chain. The edge of his cloak whipped so close to them that Rose fancied she could feel the gust of air drift over her face, like a chill breeze.
As soon as he had gone past them, Scorpius started moving, slightly faster. Moments passed as they edged around the open door. Rose held her breath as they crossed the threshold, not daring to believe that this might be it. She half-expected a siren to shriek through the air, warning her captors that she was escaping. But nothing happened, and a heartbeat later she felt the sun on her face for the first time in days, and could have cried for how good it felt.
Cheren stood at the bottom of the steps. He was staring out over the manicured lawns of the manor, and, she realised rather belatedly as Scorpius made her stop again, he was speaking. Rose's gaze travelled across the grass, and then she went still of her own accord. Because there they stood, barely a hundred yards away: her parents, her uncle, the Headmistress... and Draco Malfoy.
She opened her mouth, instinctively, but Scorpius' hand snaked out to cover it.
"Not yet," he whispered in her ear. "See the wards? They're still up. Just wait, or they won't be able to help us."
Rose blinked, and looked again. And this time she saw the ripple of air between where her parents stood and the manor, the subtle shimmering haze that was a sure sign of the presence of magic. Her heart sank again.
"...What an honour it is to welcome you to my property," Cheren was saying, his arms spread wide as he regarded the group clustered opposite him. He hadn't drawn his wand, but his posture was tense, poised like a snake about to strike. "Forgive me, but to what do I owe the pleasure?"
It was Harry who spoke. He took a step forward so that he stood at the head of the group, his green eyes fixed on David Cheren with a piercing intensity that made Rose's blood run cold. She could never remember her uncle looking at anyone with such fury before. He looked almost... frightening.
"Enough," he said, his voice carrying loud and clear towards them. "Enough, Dmitry. If you have things to say to me, say them. If you want to have it out, let's have it out. But don't involve our children in this dispute. Rose has nothing to do with anything that's happened between us. She is innocent."
"Innocent, is it?" spat Cheren, and unlike Harry there was such venom in his words it was almost a physical blow, though Albus' father didn't flinch. "You're one to talk of the innocence of children, Potter. How many orphans have you created? How many widows? How many with loved ones they will see only through the bars of Azkaban, because of you?"
"I arrest the guilty," replied Harry, his expression inscrutable. "I defend the world that I love, and I fight those who would destroy it. I have no regrets."
Cheren spat. "Of course you don't," he snarled. "But perhaps you will, once you feel what it really means to lose the innocent."
Ron surged forward abruptly, shoving past his friend's restraining hand. "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?" he roared, striding up to the invisible barrier and throwing himself against it, ignoring the crackle of magic and what must have been considerable pain as he was repelled backwards. "WHERE IS SHE? I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU'VE HURT HER I WILL RIP YOU TO PIECES!"
There was a commotion back at the house. Several men poured out of the entrance, and Rose felt Scorpius tug her sideways so they were well out of their path as they came to join Cheren where he stood at the bottom of the steps. Their presence seemed to enrage Ron, who began cursing and casting spells at the barrier that separated them. The wards glowed into visibility, resisting his attempts to break through.
"Such temper, Weasley!" Cheren called over the noise. His face was twisted in a sort of mocking glee. There was not the slightest hint from his expression that there might be any problem with their hostage. No clue that things were not going to plan. Rose was almost impressed. "Your daughter had a temper, too."
Ron stopped abruptly, his face leeching of colour. Even from a distance Rose could see the way he trembled, and her heart lurched with answering pain. "You - " Ron began, his voice hoarse and weak. "You - what - "
"Oh yes. Quite the wild, untameable little savage, she was," Cheren went on, clearly enjoying watching his victims squirm. "I suppose she got that from her Mudblood side. Though it's not as if the Weasleys have a great deal to recommend them."
Ron simply stared, as though unable to process what Cheren was saying. It was Harry who spoke, his tone as sharp as a dagger.
"Was? What do you mean, she was?"
There was an uncomfortable silence. "Yes, it's rather unfortuante," Cheren said, in a voice heavy with scorn. "I'm afraid there was an accident, between the girl and my nephew. An unfortunate… misunderstanding. It seems weapons were drawn," he pulled something out of his robe pocket and threw it to the ground at his feet. With a start, Rose realised it was her wand. "And well, I'm sorry to say that your daughter... came out second best."
For a long moment, nobody spoke. Then Harry seemed to force himself to ask the question that hovered over all of them. "What are you saying? Where is Rose?"
Cheren sneered. "Aren't you listening, Potter?" he drawled, and Rose saw that he had his own wand in his hand now. "The girl is dead."
"NO!"
Several voices had shouted at once, and Rose realised rather belatedly that one of them was hers. She hadn't meant to, she really hadn't, but the anguish that tore across her parents' faces in that moment was too much to bear. The scream felt compelled out of her, a desperate denial of the heartbreak evil was trying to create here, and before she knew what she was doing, she had broken free of Scorpius' hold, the cloak slipping from her shoulders as she stumbled forward into clear view.
A dozen sets of eyes turned to look in her direction. Because of the disillusionment charm, their gazes fell around, not on, her, but Rose felt the paralysing weight of them nonetheless. There was a brief stretch on time in which the scene hung frozen: her parents on one side of the barrier, the Death Eaters on the other, and Rose stuck between them, frozen in disbelief at what she had just done.
Then several things happened almost simultaneously.
Hermione screamed - a harrowing, gut-wrenching sound that seemed to pierce Rose's skull like an arrow. At the same time Cheren raised his wand, his eyes glowing with fire and his lips drawn back in a feral snarl of triumph, as though he had just been waiting for this exact moment to arrive. Rose saw the spectre of death reflected in his eyes as he spoke.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
There was a flash of green light. It swallowed Rose's vision, as though she were suddenly looking directly into a bright, green-tinged sun, and could not turn away. She watched, as if in slow motion, as the killing curse travelled through the air towards her; fancied she could see her own stunned expression reflected in its swirling colours. There was a roaring in her ears, and she tasted blood.
The next thing she knew, she was flying sideways, a heavy body colliding so forcefully with her chest that all the breath was knocked from her lungs. Her neck twisted, and she looked up, eyes wide, at the exact moment the avada travelled over them, so close to Scorpius' head she saw his hair stir in the breeze as it passed. His face was bathed in an eery glow, and for one heart-stopping breath Rose thought it was more than just reflection, but the spell itself, consuming him. She let out an anguished cry, and clung to his shirtfront, barely aware of the words tumbling out of her.
"Oh god Scorpius, oh god, oh god, oh god oh - "
Then someone shouted, "Protego!" and she heard running footsteps, and a sound like shattering glass as the wards splintered, before the world exploded into chaos. Noises and shouts and hisses of magic swelled through the air, loud and violent, as if someone had swivelled the volume dial abruptly to full. But Rose couldn't process it. She stayed clinging to Scorpius' shirtfront, her chest heaving, trying desperately to get her brain to work.
"Are - are - oh god - Sc - " she drew in a lungful of air, aware of the sounds pouring out of her mouth but unable to wrap her tongue around them in a way that made any sense. Above her, Scorpius blinked, and Rose's subconscious latched onto the motion like a lifeboat thrown out to sea; relief flooded her so swiftly it was almost nauseating.
"You're okay," Scorpius whispered, and his voice was nearly as haggard as her own. "It's okay Rose. You're okay. I've got you."
There was a crack, and another scream, and the sound of what might have been Harry shouting. Crushed as she was beneath the weight of Scorpius' body - his living, breathing, heart-beating body - Rose couldn't quite wrap her head around what was happening. She kept reliving that flash of green light racing towards her; kept seeing it pass millimetres above Scorpius' head, so close she swore she could still taste the terror of it in the back of her throat.
"Rose!" The voice was her father's, shouted above the sounds of spells and a sudden cry of pain that rang terrifyingly close. Scorpius lifted his head, and a second later he was rolling off of her, and Ron's face swam into her vision, pale as chalk.
"Are you alright?" His hands pushed roughly at her hair, her chin, the sides of her head… "Oh Merlin Rosie are you - "
"She's okay." Scorpius' voice was faint, as though travelling from a long distance. Panicked, Rose tried to twist her head to see him, but her father held her in such a tight grip it was impossible to move. Fear bubbled back up her windpipe. "She's in shock, I think. Her head... she needs a hospital. Can you Apparate from here?"
"No, but I have a portkey…" Ron loosened his hold on her, just long enough to rummage in his pocket. Rose seized the opportunity to twist sideways. She caught a glimpse of several fallen bodies before her gaze fixed on Scorpius, crouched beside her on the grass. He was so pale… Desperately, she seized his hand.
"Don't leave," she croaked, far beyond caring what she might sound like, or what anyone might think. Her voice lowered to a breath of sound. "Don't leave me."
Scorpius' fingers laced through hers, his grey eyes flashing with a fierceness that took her breath away. "Never," he replied.
Running footsteps thudded into Rose's awareness. She turned to see Harry racing towards them, his wand out and his glasses askew. He came to a stop a few feet away, scanned her quickly for signs of injury, then turned to Ron.
"McGonagall has Cheren and Rooke. Hermione and Draco are dealing with the others. I'm taking a team into the house, to see if we can't uncover more of what's been going on. Are you okay to Portkey home?"
Ron nodded curtly.
"Good," said Harry. His gaze drifted past them, to something out of Rose's sight. "Take my son as well," he said in a hard voice, and Rose felt something lodge in the bottom of her stomach at the iciness of his tone. "I'll deal with him later." Then he was gone, striding away up the path to the manor.
Ron wasted no time in obeying his friend's orders. He held out what appeared to be an old chequebook, his gaze on his watch, then gestured for Rose to take hold. "We leave in two minutes," he said. "Albus, hurry up."
Albus shuffled into Rose's vision. There was a deep gash on his cheek, and he appeared to be limping. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching out with her free hand to embrace him.
He shrugged off her touch. "Been better," he said, with a half chuckle that ended on a wince. "Thanks, Uncle Ron." Head bowed, he placed his hand on the book.
"You too, Malfoy." Ron glanced briefly at Scorpius, before averting his gaze. But Scorpius appeared not to notice. His eyes were on Rose, and there was something in his expression that made her stomach twist painfully.
"Scorpius, come on," she urged him, dragging the book closer, like an offering. He shook his head.
"I can't. I need to speak to my father. It's important."
Rose felt like she'd taken a bludger to the gut. The adrenaline that had sustained her to this point was ebbing fast, and she felt tremulous and weak. "Can't you do that back at Hogwarts?" she asked, wincing at her own high-pitched voice.
His gaze fixed on her like the steadiest of magnets. "You trust me, don't you?" he said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him.
She nodded without thought. Or perhaps a lot of thought. Either way, she knew the answer, like a deep-seated truth carved into her bones. "Completely," she found herself whispering.
The corner of Scorpius' mouth twitched upwards. The wind shifted the strands of his hair, and he blinked once, before reaching out to touch her cheek. "Well then," he said, leaning closer to press a kiss where his hand had lain. "Trust that I'll be right behind you."
"Thirty seconds," warned Ron.
Rose blinked tears out of her eyes. She couldn't quite grasp the significance of what was happening. All she knew was that the moment Scorpius' hand left hers, she ran the risk of falling apart altogether, like a stick figure held together by a few bits of glue and hope.
"I'll see you soon," Scorpius said. "I promise, Rose. I promise."
She nodded, and he smiled. It was the last thing she saw, that beautiful, precious smile of his, before the Portkey drew her away.