Untitled Scorpius/Rose, Chapter One, PG-13
BOOM! Loud screams echoed over the camp as the storm that had threatened the skies all day broke. Within seconds, the previously dry campgrounds of the Quidditch World Cup (Ireland versus Brazil!) were drenched in pouring rain. Rose Weasley managed to reach her family’s tent just in time, crawling through the opening as lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating all the tents. For a brief moment she could see into the next tent over, where her Uncle Harry had his wand raised high as he cast, she was sure, the Impervius spell, sealing the tent from the rain.
“Rosie, is that you?” her father called, stepping out from her parents’ wing of the tent. She smiled in response, pocketing her own wand. “Made it from Uncle Harry’s without getting too wet,” she replied. “Mum and Hugo said they’ll stay over there a few minutes. They’re not too keen on crossing through the mud. ” Ron nodded, peering out the small windows of their brand-new family tent. It was warm and comfortable, decorated with large chairs, a roaring fireplace, a small kitchen, and three beds. The unfinished game of Gobstones started that morning with Albus and Teddy lay on the back floor.
“Look at that poor sod,” Ron said, interrupting Rose’s efforts of drying off by the fire. He pointed to a tall, lone figure struggling through the rain and wind. While the rest of campers had scattered in many directions to reach their own tents, this person seemed to be lost. The long green cloak he wore was no protection for the forces of nature outside and Rose frowned, feeling sorry for him. “Can’t you call him over here, Dad? Let him stay until the storm dies down? He must be a student, otherwise he would have cast Impervius a few minutes ago.”
“Not everyone knows the Impervius spell, Rose, even though it’s dead useful,” Ron replied, wincing as the tall man slid in mud, the front half of his cloak now splattered with it. “Oi!” Ron shouted, pushing aside the tent’s opening. “OI!!” he shouted again, trying to attract the cloaked man’s attention. His drew out his wand, shot green sparks in the air, and the man finally looked over. “COME IN HERE!”
The figure began to slowly trudge through the mud, taking his time to prevent another tumble. He crawled through the flap, his well-made cloak dragging on the ground. As he entered the warm and dry space of the tent, the man sighed with relief. “Thanks for taking me in,” he said, pushing his hood back, his messy blonde hair soaking wet, taking on the appearance of a drowned rat. Ron’s breath caught in his throat. There was only one name this person could have, and that was Scorpius Malfoy. Rose’s loud shriek confirmed this.
“Scorpius!” she yelled, her face lighting up happily. Despite his wet and muddy status, Rose’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him in for a tight hug that he did not resist. Ron felt frozen on the spot. Although Albus and Hugo had confirmed Ron’s suspicions that his quiet, shy daughter had befriended a Malfoy, he had never expected that their friendship was so strong.
“I’ve gotten you all wet,” Scorpius said, as they pulled away, his eyes taking in all of Rose’s appearance. She hastily pushed back a few unruly, wet tendrils of her curly brown hair, looking flustered. “For Merlin’s sake, Scorpius, you’re the wet one here,” she replied, brushing off his concerns. “Go stand by the fire while my father - oh, oh Dad,” she said, her chocolate eyes turning to Ron nervously. “You remember Scorpius Malfoy, don’t you?” she asked, pleading silently with him to be nice, to forget the past. “I was in the O.W.L. Preparation Charms Group he led during our 5th year. It’s thanks to him I managed to raise my E to an O on the actual exam.” Scorpius laughed.
“Trust me, Mr. Weasley, I was not responsible for that. Rose would have scored an “O” whether or not she came to the review,” Scorpius said, removing his cloak to reveal sodden jeans and a wet t-shirt. He hung the cloak by the fire, squishing uncomfortably. Ron appeared to remember his manners and took out his wand. “No need to wait to get dry,” he said, doing a complicated swish and flick; the water from Scorpius’ clothes retreated into Ron’s wand.
“Drought charm,” Rose said brightly, recognizing the charm as one she would learn this year, during her final year of N.E.W.T. level classes. “Good idea, Dad...Now Scorpius, why don’t you take that chair over there,” she began, indicating the chair nearest the fire, where a large book entitled Rowena Ravenclaw: Wit Beyond Measure rested, “while I put a kettle on and bring us some treats.” Scorpius did as she told him, casting a wary glance at Ron, who circled the room, picking the chair next to his. “Reading about your Founder?” Scorpius called, his voice carrying to the kitchen as he rifled through the pages of the book.
“Yes,” Rose shouted back, her hands already busy setting up a tray of her Gran Weasley’s biscuits. “It’s a new edition. The Grey Lady actually took an interview so there’s more information in the book than ever!” Rose smiled as she emerged with the biscuits and tea. “You can borrow it if you’d like,” she added. Scorpius shook his head, his blonde hair sticking up randomly all over his head. Even mud-splattered and disheveled, he managed to look regal and haughty.
“No thanks,” he replied, popping a biscuit into his mouth. “I’ll stick with Hogwarts, A History.” Rose grinned. “That’s Mum’s favorite book, too - isn’t it, Dad?” she said, looking again at her father, who was being uncharacteristically silent. Ron nodded. For a moment there was total silence in the tent; outside, the storm raged on. Lightning struck nearby and the campground was illuminated.
“Hope the rain lets up before the match,” Ron said reluctantly, crossing his arms rather grumpily. Rose had the feeling that he was trying to be good for her. He wasn’t used to her bringing boys home, let alone the son of a man with whom he had never gotten along with. For the most part, Rose’s friends consisted of her cousins and a few select housemates. So, pleased her father was making an effort, she grinned at him.
“The storm’s supposed to pass by tomorrow morning,” Scorpius answered, his eyes drifting to the large clock dominating the tent. Half of the clock was bright green, the other half was green, yellow, and blue. Scorpius recognized it as the “QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP CALCULATOR” sold by Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. It counted down the days, hours, and minutes until the final match. At that moment it read “Two Days, 6 hours, 8 minutes, 13 seconds.” In addition, it had been equipped with the very annoying feature of speech: every half-hour it would scream, “Go Ireland! Vá Brasil!” causing the person standing nearest it to go temporarily deaf (Scorpius knew this from experience).
“All the activities for tomorrow are still on, then?” Rose asked, looking back and forth between her father and her friend. Most people had arrived days early for the match, and the British Ministry of Magic, in the hopes of quelling the memories of the last time it was held on British soil, had arranged for many events to be held before the final match.
Ron nodded. “As far as Harry’s heard - and he’s being updated hourly with reports from all around the camp,” he said, alluding to the fact that dear Uncle Harry was head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department.
“I’m looking forward to the number of broom games scheduled before the Cup,” Scorpius replied, reaching for another biscuit. “Aingingein… Swivenhodge… an instructional game of Quodpot…Shuntbumps…” Rose frowned.
“I’ve always disliked Shuntbumps,” she said, taking a biscuit for herself. “How can a game where the object is to knock the other players from their brooms be fun?” she asked a little grumpily. Rose had never been stable on a broom and as result, had always been one of the first players to be knocked off. Though Shuntbumps was a harmless children’s game, it had left her insecure and a bit fearful of broom riding. Scorpius grinned, shaking his head in disagreement.
“It’s always good for a laugh, Rosie,” he replied, “and if you-” Scorpius was cut off by the loud screeching of the clock, which echoed all around the campsite as other clocks went off. The clock began to flash and shake against the wall, yelling, “GO IRELAND! VÁ BRASIL! GO IRELAND! VÁ BRASIL! GO IRELAND! VÁ BRASIL! GO IRELAND! VÁ BRASIL!” Ron, the closest person to it, clapped his hands to his ears and raced to the other side of the room, but it was too late - he would be deaf for the next few minutes.
“Serves him right for helping Uncle George create it!” Rose said, giggling, as Ron tried to unclog his ears with his wand. She turned back to Scorpius. “So will I see you tomorrow?” she said, half-shouting to be heard above the clock’s noise. “I’m going with my family to check out the vintage broomsticks around eleven, but after that I’m free...”
Scorpius stood up, nodding. “The Quodpot game should be over by noon. Want to meet me by the Chocolate Frog Trading Tent then?” Rose nodded. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince Albus, Lily, and Hugo to walk with her there. Scorpius was gathering his things, checking to make sure that his wand was still on him, and Rose reached for his cloak, glad to find it warm and dry.
“Goodbye,” she said, flashing him a small smile as she passed him his green cloak. Scorpius waved to Ron, who answered with a loud, “BYE, MALFOY.” Rose hoped his ears were still clogged; otherwise he was just being rude. “Make a run for it,” she advised Scorpius. The rain outside was still relentless. “Can’t wait till I take Apparition exam next week…you’re lucky you’ve already passed,” Scorpius answered with a crooked smile. She grinned back, and they stood there, staring at each other for a moment.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Rose said softly, a light blush covering her cheeks and ears as she said so. Though they had owled each other most of the holiday, Rose missed seeing him everyday. They had become solid friends during their fifth year, when they were placed on Prefect rounds together, a move meant to strengthen inter-Hogwarts unity.
“Owling was not enough,” Scorpius replied, seemingly reading her mind. He reached out, moving to touch her hand. Ron grunted loudly behind them and Rose’s cheeks flamed. “You’d better go,” she murmured, stepping away from Scorpius quickly. He nodded, his expression serious, and then he crawled out of the tent without a backwards glance.
Rose watched him brave the rain, aware that her father was staring at her. When she finally turned, she ignored him, and delved straight into her book. “Wonder what Mum and Hugo are up to,” she commented, trying to distract Ron, who was still watching her like a kneazle does an untrustworthy wizard. Ron didn’t reply. Rose didn’t dare raise her eyes to his, in fear of what he would see. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly planted on her book, her cheeks scarlet for the rest of the evening.