Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

As Rose stepped into her flat, she heard the familiar flutter of wings. Expecting to see Nimbus or Pippin, she glanced toward the window, but instead, a different owl perched there, its feathers a rich shade of brown. Rose's heart gave a small, unexpected flutter of its own, though she quickly pushed the thought aside.

She reached for the letter, her fingers grazing the parchment as she noticed the unfamiliar handwriting. A twinge of disappointment curled in her chest; she'd been half-hoping for a letter from someone much deeper in her heart. Still, curiosity got the better of her, and she unfolded the parchment with a soft sigh.

To her surprise, the letter was from Gareth Fireheart.

Dear Rose,

I hope this letter finds you well.

My name is Gareth Fireheart, and though we've not yet had the pleasure of meeting, I've heard much about you and, quite honestly, I couldn't help but be intrigued. From what I've gathered, you are someone with both great wisdom and a fiery spirit—qualities I deeply admire.

I realize this may be a bit forward, but I would be honored if you might consider joining me for a cup of coffee or a walk through the gardens sometime. I promise it will be a pleasant and unhurried affair, and I'd love to get to know you better, should you be open to it.

Please, take your time to think it over, and let me know if you're interested. Either way, I'll respect your decision, but I couldn't let the opportunity slip by without asking.

Wishing you a lovely day ahead,

Gareth Fireheart

As she read through the polite and carefully written words, a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself. It was sweet, sincere—and much more charming than she'd anticipated. Her thoughts flickered for a moment to Scorpius, and she shook her head. No, this was different. She folded the letter back up, her mind already racing with thoughts of what to do next.

Dear Gareth,

Thank you for your thoughtful letter. It's not every day I receive one like yours, and I must admit, it made me smile.

How about we continue this conversation over coffee tomorrow after work? I'll be at The Leaky Cauldron around six. If that works for you, I'd be happy to join you.

Best,

Rose

It didn't take long for Nimbus to fly in with a letter from him, looking slightly ruffled as if he too had been caught up in a whirlwind. Rose had barely finished her evening routine when she noticed the familiar owl perched on her windowsill. She sighed, already knowing what was coming.

Opening the letter, her eyes skimmed over Scorpius's unmistakable handwriting, each word dripping with a mix of sarcasm, anger, and a touch of jealousy. His words were a stark contrast to Gareth's polite and measured tone.

Rose,

So this is what we're doing now? Deciding on dates without so much as a hint in my direction? You know, it's really quite bold of you to take such a step without even considering the damage it may cause to one's carefully curated ego.

But I suppose you'll do as you please, won't you? Maybe you're just looking for something more 'sensible' than the usual chaotic charm I bring. Just don't expect me to wait around while you entertain 'decent' Aurors. I don't think I could stomach it.

I won't say I'm hurt—because that would give you the satisfaction—but I'm definitely not pleased. And I suppose I'll have to trust you to make your own mistakes, as always.

Yours, though begrudgingly,

Scorpius

"Al, traitor had spilled everything to his best friend, then." Rose couldn't help but laugh, despite herself. She rolled her eyes as she folded the letter, but a small part of her felt a strange tug in her chest. Scorpius had a way of making his feelings clear—whether they were appreciated or not. She set the letter aside, knowing that tomorrow's coffee with George would be interesting, but that the conversation with Scorpius, as always, would be far from over.

Dear Scorpius,

Ah, there it is—your signature cocktail of sarcasm and theatrics. How I've missed it. For the record, I didn't realize I needed to send you an itinerary of my social life. Next time, I'll be sure to consult you before scheduling anything as scandalous as coffee.

As for your ego, I'm sure it will recover—possibly even stronger for the dramatic blow it's just taken. Try not to sulk too much. You wouldn't want to damage that carefully curated charm of yours.

Yours,

Rose

The next morning, Rose found herself glancing toward Scorpius's desk more often than she cared to admit. It sat conspicuously empty, the usual chaos of ink-splattered parchment and abandoned coffee mugs nowhere to be seen. Overslept again, she thought with a huff. Typical. But as the hours ticked by and his chair remained stubbornly unoccupied, a knot of unease began to twist in her chest. She told herself it didn't matter—why should it?—but the lie felt paper-thin by lunchtime, when she caught herself hesitating outside his office door. Hand raised, she hovered for a moment before shaking her head and walking away. She wasn't his keeper.

By evening, Rose had forcibly shoved thoughts of Scorpius to the back of her mind, though his absence lingered like a smudge on a perfectly clean window. Instead, she focused on the evening ahead. George (or Grant?) Fireheart—his name still sounded like something from a dramatic romance novel—had written her a charmingly earnest letter, and their meeting was long overdue.

At precisely six o'clock, Rose stepped into The Leaky Cauldron. The warm glow of lanterns and the low hum of chatter greeted her as she scanned the room. Gage (or may be Grant) spotted her first, rising gracefully from his seat with a smile so disarming that Rose momentarily forgot to breathe. His eyes—amber? Hazel? She couldn't decide—seemed to sparkle in the light, but they were unmistakably not gray. Nor did they hold a maddeningly familiar mischievous glint. Ah!

"Rose," he greeted warmly, pulling out a chair for her. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Of course," she replied, setting her bag down and returning his smile. "And thank you for the letter. It's not every day I get one that isn't... well, dripping with sarcasm." A ghost of a smirk tugged at her lips, unbidden, as Scorpius's endless quips flickered across her mind.

Gavin (er... whoever) chuckled, the sound light and pleasant. "I'll take that as a win, then. Though I hope the evening itself will outshine my owl's delivery."

To Rose's surprise, the conversation flowed easily. Gordon (or is it Gavin or Graham?) proved himself a thoughtful conversationalist, striking just the right balance between attentive and engaging. They touched on everything from their respective work projects to the latest Quidditch drama and even discovered a shared passion for magical creature conservation.

"You know," Garret (ah, Rose stopped trying to reminding his first name at last) said after a while, leaning forward slightly, his tone quieter but no less confident, "you have a sharp mind, Rose. It's... captivating. I can see why people are drawn to you."

Rose blinked, startled. "People are drawn to me?" she repeated, almost incredulous.

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I think you know they are."

Her cheeks flushed before she could stop them, and to her surprise, she felt herself agreeing to meet him again on Saturday. As they parted, Fireheart (that's easy to remember) briefly took her hand in his, his touch light but deliberate. The gesture sent a flicker of guilt through her chest—though whether it was guilt for enjoying the moment or for noticing the lack of sparks, she couldn't say.

On her walk home, the crisp evening air did little to clear her jumbled thoughts. Instead, she muttered under her breath, trying to solidify the name in her mind.

"Gareth. Gareth Fireheart. Not Graham. Not Greg. Definitely not Guy. Gareth."

And yet, somewhere at the back of her mind, an irritatingly familiar voice quipped: Fireheart? Sounds like he should be taming dragons, not taking you to dinner. Rose groaned aloud. She really needed to stop thinking about Scorpius.

Rose turned for what felt like the millionth time on her bed, the sheets a tangled mess around her. She groaned, finally sitting up and running a hand through her hair. What is wrong with me? She stared blankly at the darkness. Was it Fireheart? No. She didn't feel anything remotely romantic toward him—just guilt. A heaping pile of awkward, uncomfortable guilt.

With a huff, Rose grabbed her quill and a piece of parchment, almost without thinking.

Al,

Is Scorpius alright? Didn't see him at the office today. Hope he's okay.

Rose

P.S. Don't you dare tell Scorpius I asked about him.

Tying the letter to Pippin's leg, she held the owl up to eye level.

"To Albus. Make sure he reads it and replies. If he doesn't, peck him until he does. No mercy, Pip." Her voice dripped with malicious satisfaction.

Pippin gave a low hoot, as if sharing her dark amusement, and shot off into the night. Surprisingly, he returned in record time, carrying a reply that was somehow both scrawled messily and brimming with personality.

Rose,

First of all, thank you for the joy of being woken up at this ungodly hour. Truly, it's been the highlight of my week.

Scorpius is fine, not that he deserves this level of concern. He had some interview today about—what was it?—a groundbreaking invention or a potential world takeover? I wasn't paying attention. He's been bragging about it for days, so naturally, I tuned him out.

Anyway, stop worrying. He's not crying into his tea over your tragic parent-arranged date with Gareth the Generic. In fact, he's convinced you'll dump the guy after one meeting. (And honestly, I don't blame him.)

Now, for Merlin's sake, go to sleep. Scorpius will survive without you hovering like a neurotic Kneazle.

Goodnight.

Albus

P.S. Pip used to be my favorite owl. But after the vicious pecking spree he subjected me to until I wrote this reply, he's been demoted to public enemy number one.

Rose chuckled softly, smoothing out the parchment. "Good job, Pip," she murmured.

The owl cracked one eye open, gave her a look that could only be described as smug, and promptly drifted back to sleep. Rose followed suit, collapsing onto her bed with a contented sigh.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you soon with next chapter.