The Transformation of Ducklings 6/? (HP)
TITLE: The Transformation of Ducklings 6/?
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Rose Weasley-Granger and Scorpius Malfoy aren't about to let decades of enmity between their fathers get in the way of their friendship. As two shy, awkward teenagers wrestling with the onset of first love, they've got enough obstacles to overcome.
NOTE: *smooches katieay for her mad beta skillz, yo*
My apologies for the long delay since my last update. I'd had every intention of writing this chapter (and updating The Golden Horn, my other WIP) over the Christmas holiday, but instead I ended up writing 3 Harry/Ginny one-shots, and then I was horribly blocked on this. Hopefully, now that I've broken through the block, the next update won't be so long in coming.
My utmost thanks to those of you who were game enough to start reading this in the first place, to those of you who are still reading, and most of all to those of you who take the time to leave a review. You make the struggle all worthwhile.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and everything it encompasses. This is a work of fan fiction, and thus derives no profit or material benefit therefrom.
PART FIVE
Rose was an utter wreck.
She'd arisen at an insanely early hour, earlier even than her mum, after having scarcely slept at all the night before. She managed to choke down a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast, but then the butterflies in her stomach went on a rampage and she almost didn't make it to the toilet in time. A long, hot shower preceded by a thorough tooth-brushing helped calm her nerves a little, but the humidity did nothing for her hair.
The remainder of her morning was spent dashing around like a spastic house-elf, trying to make the house look presentable. When did her family turn into such slobs? Once she'd bundled up the outdated editions of the Daily Prophet strewn around Dad's reading chair and put them by the trash bin; re-shelved all the books left lying around; retrieved nearly a Galleon's worth of loose change, two unopened Chocolate Frogs and one half-empty box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and a broken quill she thought she recognized as one of her own from beneath the sofa cushions; and swept, dusted, and plumped all the throw pillows (except for the one with the stain in the shape of Australia, which she hid at the back of a closet), Rose turned her attention to herself. With a little over three hours remaining until Scorpius and his mum were expected to arrive, she had her work cut out for her.
After a second shower and another round of tooth-brushing (lunch hadn't stayed down any better than breakfast) Rose attacked her hair with every weapon in her arsenal and a couple she nicked from her mum's, to little effect. Three breakdowns later, the last of which resulted in her throwing her brush at the wall so hard the handle broke off, she flung herself face-down across her bed and cursed both her parents for inflicting their genes upon her.
Eventually the tears dried up and Rose calmed down enough to roll on to her back to contemplate the ceiling and give serious consideration to the option of shaving her head. As boredom set in and her fingers found their way to a scab left from when she'd cut herself shaving her legs this morning, Rose came to the conclusion that shaving her head might not be such a good idea, so she got up with a string of oaths that would scandalize even her dad and forced her unruly mane into a passable French braid.
Finding the right outfit to wear for Scorpius' visit was no less of an ordeal. When she was at Hogwarts, Rose didn't worry too much about her attire; most of the time she was in school robes, and on other occasions, such as for Hogsmeade weekends or Quidditch matches, she just wore whatever was comfortable and clean. The latter was her guideline for summer wear as well. Consequently, she'd never put much thought into choosing an outfit that looked good, much less one that enhanced what few physical assets she had. Rose looked down at her pitifully flat chest and sighed grumpily. She'd never given them a second thought before, either.
Then again, had Scorpius? The possibility made her turn tomato red.
Rose put on her favorite blouse and went before the mirror, only to squawk in horror. Why hadn't anyone told her that shade of yellow clashed so horribly with her coloring? After all these years of wearing her House colors, how had she not noticed it herself? She yanked the blouse over her head and threw it into a corner, where it was quickly joined by every other warm-weather blouse in her wardrobe, none of which satisfied her exacting standards.
She then systematically went through the shirts in her dresser, eliminating all those that were too tight, too low-cut (Dad would never stand for that), too ugly, and, in one case, might have passed muster if not for the fact that it had "Weird Sisters Reunion Tour '20: Raisin' the Dead" emblazoned in glittery cursive script across the chest and an image of the band on the back. She briefly contemplated wearing green, until she remembered the study at Scorpius' house and feared he might take her color choice as a coded message--about what, she couldn't guess, but then who knew how boys' minds worked?
"Rose!" she heard Mum call as she was about to try on her last top.
She opened the door to her bedroom and stuck her head out. "What?"
"The Scamanders are here for Hugo."
Rose made a face. "So?"
"So why don't you come down and say good-bye to your brother? He'll be away the rest of the summer."
Her voice sounded closer. Rose stood on her tiptoes and peered down. Sure enough, Mum had come up the first few steps and was now looking up at her expectantly. Rose sighed. "Fine, I'll be right down. Let me put something on first."
Mum came all the way up to the landing. "What have you been doing in there all this time?"
Rose glanced over her shoulder at the piles of rejected tops that littered her room. "Nothing."
"Mm-hm." Her lips pursed, she drummed her fingers on the banister rail while Rose steeled herself for the inevitable. Instead, though, Mum's expression grew softer and she said, "Get dressed so you can say good-bye to Hugo, then I'll help you get ready. All right?"
Rose was so astonished she almost flung the door open, then remembered just in time that she was only wearing a bra and knickers. "Okay, yeah," she managed to say. "That'd be great." She started to close the door, then at the last moment opened it enough to stick her head out again and add, "Thanks, Mum."
* * * * *
Mum had just returned with a pair of small silver hoop earrings she'd offered to let Rose borrow for the afternoon when the front doorbell rang. "Merlin's pants, they're here!" Rose exclaimed.
"Don't let me catch you swearing like that in front of our guests," Mum said as she handed the earrings to Rose. "I expect you to behave like a proper young lady, not... not one of your uncles."
"Not even Uncle Percy?" Rose leaned forward to examine her reflection in the mirror. She was amazed at the - well, at the magic Mum had done. If it weren't for the freckles and the slight overbite, Rose might wonder if she were looking at a different person. Her hair had been brushed out until every knot and snarl had been vanquished and then re-plaited; her eyebrows tweezed so that it no longer looked as if she had a woolly caterpillar parked across her forehead; her ragged, bitten nails filed and buffed and painted with a coat of clear polish; her eyes given just enough color to make her lashes look long and dark and her irises sparkle; and somehow Mum had managed to scrounge together an outfit that suited Rose's coloring and then, after she'd put it on, cast a few spells to give it a more figure-flattering cut. Rose glanced down at her chest and sighed again; someday, maybe.
Then again, that's what Dad always said about the Cannons having a winning season: someday, maybe.
Mum leaned against the wardrobe, her arms crossed over her chest, while Rose put the earrings on. "Especially not Uncle Percy. Your father will think you've been Confunded, and he's in a state as it is." Rose turned to her, remembering that she'd been meaning to ask why Dad disliked Scorpius' father so much, but before she got a chance Mum said, "Time to head downstairs. You've kept Scorpius waiting long enough."
As if on cue, Dad's bellow of, "Rosie! Hermione!" came from below.
"Honestly," Mum sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "After all these years..."
"Right, Mum," Rose said as she slipped her shoes on. "You know he does it just to take the mickey, right?" She smothered a laugh at the look that appeared on Mum's face, as though the possibility had never occurred to her.
Rose took one last look in the mirror, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and giving her hair a cautionary pat to be sure it would stay in place for the next few hours. Then she took a deep breath, told the butterflies in her stomach to piss off, and went downstairs.
* * * * *
Scorpius stood up so quickly as Rose entered the sitting room he almost knocked over his chair, but he reached out and caught it just in time. He also caught the strange look Mr. Weasley gave him before he, too, got to his feet. He didn't know what to make of it, nor what to make of Mr. Weasley. He'd been pleasant enough since Scorpius and his mother arrived, but he kept casting baleful looks in Scorpius' direction, as though he was expecting Scorpius to do something unpleasant. Scorpius tried his best to put it out of his mind as he took a step toward Rose.
"Hi," she said, giving him a smile that made his stomach do a flip.
Scorpius tried to smile back, but he wasn't very accustomed to smiling deliberately, and feared it came out looking like a nauseated grimace. "Hi."
He was just about to thank Rose for inviting him when her mother came in and said, "Ron, haven't you offered our guests anything to drink? Honestly!" And then his mother was speaking, and she and Rose's mother were going on about something or other, but Scorpius wasn't paying attention anymore because his mouth had gone dry and his hands had gone damp as it'd hit him that he was here, in Rose's home, at her invitation, and everything he'd spent the past several weeks fantasizing about suddenly seemed so tangible, so possible, he thought he'd explode from the anticipation.
So he said the first thing that came into his head: "I like your outfit."
She blushed even as her smile widened. "Thanks. You look nice, too."
"That's the same shirt you wore last Hogsmeade weekend."
"It is?" She glanced down at it, then back up at him, her nose wrinkling. "You remember what I was wearing two months ago?"
What was he supposed to say to that? That he remembered everything from that afternoon in exquisite, glorious detail? That, if asked, he could faithfully reproduce their entire conversation from the moment she'd approached his table in the Three Broomsticks to ask why he was lurking in a dark corner all by himself on such a lovely spring day until they'd parted company, hours later, in the entrance hall at Hogwarts? She'd think he was barmy for sure, and her father'd probably have him thrown out on his ear.
"Er, well," he hedged, casting about for a suitable cover story, "I'm just so used to seeing you in school robes, I suppose anything different stands out."
She seemed doubtful at first, but after a moment's hesitation shrugged it off and came closer. "I see you brought books with you," she said, indicating the small stack he'd set on the table.
"Your letter said you were interested in learning about physics."
"Yeah, well, be careful where you leave them. My mum reads books the way most people inhale oxygen. You leave those lying around, she'll have gone through them all by the time you leave and will be able to quote whole passages at you." She bit down softly on her lower lip. "I reckon you've already done all of our summer homework?" Scorpius nodded. "Figures," she said with a light laugh. "I haven't even started."
"It didn't take me too long, although I had to re-write my Transfiguration essay."
"That's good. That it doesn't take long to do, that is. You know me, I'll probably put it off until the night before we go back to school."
"You really oughtn't. If you were to start earlier, then --"
"Yeah, I know, Mum's been telling me the same thing for years." She leaned forward and added in a stage whisper, "Hasn't done a bit of good. Besides," she continued, rocking back, "if I started doing homework when I was supposed to, then I wouldn't have a reason to come pester you in the library."
"You could come pester me anyway," Scorpius said, his cheeks warming. "I wouldn't mind; I like the company."
"You say that to all the mad girls who pester you, I bet."
"No, just you," he blurted without thinking. Rose's eyes grew huge. "I mean, erm..."
Before he could come up with something more appropriate to say, however, Rose had closed the distance between them and grabbed his wrist. "C'mon," she said, tugging him along. "There's too many people in here. Let's go out in the garden."
As he let Rose lead him out of the sitting room, Scorpius caught sight of a knowing look that passed between his mother and hers. He was far more interested, however, in the feeling of Rose's soft, warm fingers around his wrist. With a deft twist he managed to replace his wrist with his hand and curled his fingers around hers, a move that caused her to look over her shoulder and reward him with a dazzling smile.
To his disappointment, she released his hand as soon as they got to the bottom of the steps leading from the back door into the garden. "It's not much," she said, kicking off her shoes and striding barefoot across the grass, "but I reckon it's big enough."
"For what?" Scorpius asked, gazing around him. There was a shed, a workshop of some sort it appeared, at the bottom of the garden, and through the open door he caught a glimpse of movement: Rose's father, most likely, playing chaperon. A net supported between two poles, one of which Rose was now dragging to set next to the other, hung across the middle of the garden. A bricked-over patio with chairs, a table, and a grill rested against the side of the house, where a large orange cat lay sprawled, sunning itself. It blinked lazily at Scorpius, then raised a hind leg and proceeded to clean itself. An open-faced wooden box--possibly a shelter for an owl?--had been nailed to a nearby tree. Someone had attempted a couple of flower beds here and there, but for the most part the garden was grassed over. In all, it gave off a very different atmosphere from the scrupulously manicured, topiaried garden at the back of his house.
"For Apparating, of course," Rose said. "Maybe you will have better luck teaching me than anyone else has."
"Oh, I doubt that. I mean, I'm probably rubbish at teaching."
Her hands planted on her hips, she exclaimed, "You are not, Scorpius! How else d'you think I got an O.W.L. in Astronomy?"
"Don't discount yourself like that, Rose. You'd've got an O.W.L. even without my help."
"Oh fine, be that way," she said, rolling her eyes and grinning. "I wouldn't have got an 'O' without your help."
"If you say so."
"I do."
Scorpius stuck his hands in his pockets, drawing comfort and strength from the familiar presence of his wand, and took a few steps towards her. "Apparating's not like Astronomy, though. I don't know if there's anything I can tell you that you haven't already heard a hundred times over. It's just... it's something you have to feel."
"Instinctual, you mean?"
He thought about this, then nodded. "Kind of, I suppose."
"That's a rather un-Ravenclaw-like attitude to take." At his puzzled frown she added, "That is, it's more like your lot to work out a solution to a problem, rather than just--" She waved her hand through the air. "--give yourselves up to chance."
"I don't know about that. Instinct isn't only about chance. Sometimes it's quite deliberate."
She laughed. "Yeah, you'd know about deliberate, wouldn't you?"
Her comment stung, probably more than she'd intended. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said more sharply than he intended.
"You're the most deliberate person I've ever known, Scorpius. Except for maybe my mum, but she's deranged anyway. Everything you do is calculated down to the smallest detail."
"That's not true at all."
"I bet you even plan out what you're going to wear each day a week in advance."
He opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. "I do not." Truthfully, he planned his wardrobe four days in advance, to allow for unexpected changes in the weather, but he wasn't about to admit that she was even partly correct.
Rose drew closer, stopping when she was only about a foot or so away, and tilted her head to one side. With her bright eyes, she looked almost birdlike. "Really? When was the last time you threw caution to the winds and did something truly rash and impulsive?"
His mind raced as he sought for a good example to give her, but she was so close to him now he could scarcely think straight. He could come up with something very rash and impulsive he'd like to do right now, something that involved losing himself in Rose's eyes and lips for the rest of the afternoon. Rather than give in to the impulse, however, he said, "I invited you to my home for dinner."
She sighed and clucked her tongue. "That was your mum's idea."
"It was not!" he exclaimed vehemently. At her raised eyebrow he insisted, his voice almost pleading in its softness, "It was my idea to invite you."
For an agonizing moment he thought she was going to continue in this vein, but then her expression softened. "Was it really?" she asked, much to his surprise. He nodded. "Wow," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. Then, louder, she turned and pointed to the bottom of the garden. "Erm, okay then, Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, show me how to 'feel' Apparation."
Rose had the most amazing ability to keep Scorpius continually off-kilter, and so it took him a moment to regroup. "You want me to Apparate down there?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Yeah, show me what you've got."
He glanced at her profile before saying, "Actually, it might be better if I start down there and Apparate to you. It, er, it helps to have something concrete to fix in my mind as my destination. You know, the three Ds?"
"So, what, am I to be a D?"
A smile ghosted across his face. "Something like that, yeah."
"It's always been my dream in life to be a D." She grinned. "Okay, then, since you're the expert, we'll do it your way. You go there and Apparate to me while I stay here, doing my best impression of a D, and maybe between the two of us I can work this out."
"Now you're the one who sounds like a Ravenclaw."
PART SEVEN
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: Rose Weasley-Granger and Scorpius Malfoy aren't about to let decades of enmity between their fathers get in the way of their friendship. As two shy, awkward teenagers wrestling with the onset of first love, they've got enough obstacles to overcome.
NOTE: *smooches katieay for her mad beta skillz, yo*
My apologies for the long delay since my last update. I'd had every intention of writing this chapter (and updating The Golden Horn, my other WIP) over the Christmas holiday, but instead I ended up writing 3 Harry/Ginny one-shots, and then I was horribly blocked on this. Hopefully, now that I've broken through the block, the next update won't be so long in coming.
My utmost thanks to those of you who were game enough to start reading this in the first place, to those of you who are still reading, and most of all to those of you who take the time to leave a review. You make the struggle all worthwhile.
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter universe and everything it encompasses. This is a work of fan fiction, and thus derives no profit or material benefit therefrom.
PART FIVE
Rose was an utter wreck.
She'd arisen at an insanely early hour, earlier even than her mum, after having scarcely slept at all the night before. She managed to choke down a bowl of cold cereal for breakfast, but then the butterflies in her stomach went on a rampage and she almost didn't make it to the toilet in time. A long, hot shower preceded by a thorough tooth-brushing helped calm her nerves a little, but the humidity did nothing for her hair.
The remainder of her morning was spent dashing around like a spastic house-elf, trying to make the house look presentable. When did her family turn into such slobs? Once she'd bundled up the outdated editions of the Daily Prophet strewn around Dad's reading chair and put them by the trash bin; re-shelved all the books left lying around; retrieved nearly a Galleon's worth of loose change, two unopened Chocolate Frogs and one half-empty box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and a broken quill she thought she recognized as one of her own from beneath the sofa cushions; and swept, dusted, and plumped all the throw pillows (except for the one with the stain in the shape of Australia, which she hid at the back of a closet), Rose turned her attention to herself. With a little over three hours remaining until Scorpius and his mum were expected to arrive, she had her work cut out for her.
After a second shower and another round of tooth-brushing (lunch hadn't stayed down any better than breakfast) Rose attacked her hair with every weapon in her arsenal and a couple she nicked from her mum's, to little effect. Three breakdowns later, the last of which resulted in her throwing her brush at the wall so hard the handle broke off, she flung herself face-down across her bed and cursed both her parents for inflicting their genes upon her.
Eventually the tears dried up and Rose calmed down enough to roll on to her back to contemplate the ceiling and give serious consideration to the option of shaving her head. As boredom set in and her fingers found their way to a scab left from when she'd cut herself shaving her legs this morning, Rose came to the conclusion that shaving her head might not be such a good idea, so she got up with a string of oaths that would scandalize even her dad and forced her unruly mane into a passable French braid.
Finding the right outfit to wear for Scorpius' visit was no less of an ordeal. When she was at Hogwarts, Rose didn't worry too much about her attire; most of the time she was in school robes, and on other occasions, such as for Hogsmeade weekends or Quidditch matches, she just wore whatever was comfortable and clean. The latter was her guideline for summer wear as well. Consequently, she'd never put much thought into choosing an outfit that looked good, much less one that enhanced what few physical assets she had. Rose looked down at her pitifully flat chest and sighed grumpily. She'd never given them a second thought before, either.
Then again, had Scorpius? The possibility made her turn tomato red.
Rose put on her favorite blouse and went before the mirror, only to squawk in horror. Why hadn't anyone told her that shade of yellow clashed so horribly with her coloring? After all these years of wearing her House colors, how had she not noticed it herself? She yanked the blouse over her head and threw it into a corner, where it was quickly joined by every other warm-weather blouse in her wardrobe, none of which satisfied her exacting standards.
She then systematically went through the shirts in her dresser, eliminating all those that were too tight, too low-cut (Dad would never stand for that), too ugly, and, in one case, might have passed muster if not for the fact that it had "Weird Sisters Reunion Tour '20: Raisin' the Dead" emblazoned in glittery cursive script across the chest and an image of the band on the back. She briefly contemplated wearing green, until she remembered the study at Scorpius' house and feared he might take her color choice as a coded message--about what, she couldn't guess, but then who knew how boys' minds worked?
"Rose!" she heard Mum call as she was about to try on her last top.
She opened the door to her bedroom and stuck her head out. "What?"
"The Scamanders are here for Hugo."
Rose made a face. "So?"
"So why don't you come down and say good-bye to your brother? He'll be away the rest of the summer."
Her voice sounded closer. Rose stood on her tiptoes and peered down. Sure enough, Mum had come up the first few steps and was now looking up at her expectantly. Rose sighed. "Fine, I'll be right down. Let me put something on first."
Mum came all the way up to the landing. "What have you been doing in there all this time?"
Rose glanced over her shoulder at the piles of rejected tops that littered her room. "Nothing."
"Mm-hm." Her lips pursed, she drummed her fingers on the banister rail while Rose steeled herself for the inevitable. Instead, though, Mum's expression grew softer and she said, "Get dressed so you can say good-bye to Hugo, then I'll help you get ready. All right?"
Rose was so astonished she almost flung the door open, then remembered just in time that she was only wearing a bra and knickers. "Okay, yeah," she managed to say. "That'd be great." She started to close the door, then at the last moment opened it enough to stick her head out again and add, "Thanks, Mum."
* * * * *
Mum had just returned with a pair of small silver hoop earrings she'd offered to let Rose borrow for the afternoon when the front doorbell rang. "Merlin's pants, they're here!" Rose exclaimed.
"Don't let me catch you swearing like that in front of our guests," Mum said as she handed the earrings to Rose. "I expect you to behave like a proper young lady, not... not one of your uncles."
"Not even Uncle Percy?" Rose leaned forward to examine her reflection in the mirror. She was amazed at the - well, at the magic Mum had done. If it weren't for the freckles and the slight overbite, Rose might wonder if she were looking at a different person. Her hair had been brushed out until every knot and snarl had been vanquished and then re-plaited; her eyebrows tweezed so that it no longer looked as if she had a woolly caterpillar parked across her forehead; her ragged, bitten nails filed and buffed and painted with a coat of clear polish; her eyes given just enough color to make her lashes look long and dark and her irises sparkle; and somehow Mum had managed to scrounge together an outfit that suited Rose's coloring and then, after she'd put it on, cast a few spells to give it a more figure-flattering cut. Rose glanced down at her chest and sighed again; someday, maybe.
Then again, that's what Dad always said about the Cannons having a winning season: someday, maybe.
Mum leaned against the wardrobe, her arms crossed over her chest, while Rose put the earrings on. "Especially not Uncle Percy. Your father will think you've been Confunded, and he's in a state as it is." Rose turned to her, remembering that she'd been meaning to ask why Dad disliked Scorpius' father so much, but before she got a chance Mum said, "Time to head downstairs. You've kept Scorpius waiting long enough."
As if on cue, Dad's bellow of, "Rosie! Hermione!" came from below.
"Honestly," Mum sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "After all these years..."
"Right, Mum," Rose said as she slipped her shoes on. "You know he does it just to take the mickey, right?" She smothered a laugh at the look that appeared on Mum's face, as though the possibility had never occurred to her.
Rose took one last look in the mirror, smoothing the imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and giving her hair a cautionary pat to be sure it would stay in place for the next few hours. Then she took a deep breath, told the butterflies in her stomach to piss off, and went downstairs.
* * * * *
Scorpius stood up so quickly as Rose entered the sitting room he almost knocked over his chair, but he reached out and caught it just in time. He also caught the strange look Mr. Weasley gave him before he, too, got to his feet. He didn't know what to make of it, nor what to make of Mr. Weasley. He'd been pleasant enough since Scorpius and his mother arrived, but he kept casting baleful looks in Scorpius' direction, as though he was expecting Scorpius to do something unpleasant. Scorpius tried his best to put it out of his mind as he took a step toward Rose.
"Hi," she said, giving him a smile that made his stomach do a flip.
Scorpius tried to smile back, but he wasn't very accustomed to smiling deliberately, and feared it came out looking like a nauseated grimace. "Hi."
He was just about to thank Rose for inviting him when her mother came in and said, "Ron, haven't you offered our guests anything to drink? Honestly!" And then his mother was speaking, and she and Rose's mother were going on about something or other, but Scorpius wasn't paying attention anymore because his mouth had gone dry and his hands had gone damp as it'd hit him that he was here, in Rose's home, at her invitation, and everything he'd spent the past several weeks fantasizing about suddenly seemed so tangible, so possible, he thought he'd explode from the anticipation.
So he said the first thing that came into his head: "I like your outfit."
She blushed even as her smile widened. "Thanks. You look nice, too."
"That's the same shirt you wore last Hogsmeade weekend."
"It is?" She glanced down at it, then back up at him, her nose wrinkling. "You remember what I was wearing two months ago?"
What was he supposed to say to that? That he remembered everything from that afternoon in exquisite, glorious detail? That, if asked, he could faithfully reproduce their entire conversation from the moment she'd approached his table in the Three Broomsticks to ask why he was lurking in a dark corner all by himself on such a lovely spring day until they'd parted company, hours later, in the entrance hall at Hogwarts? She'd think he was barmy for sure, and her father'd probably have him thrown out on his ear.
"Er, well," he hedged, casting about for a suitable cover story, "I'm just so used to seeing you in school robes, I suppose anything different stands out."
She seemed doubtful at first, but after a moment's hesitation shrugged it off and came closer. "I see you brought books with you," she said, indicating the small stack he'd set on the table.
"Your letter said you were interested in learning about physics."
"Yeah, well, be careful where you leave them. My mum reads books the way most people inhale oxygen. You leave those lying around, she'll have gone through them all by the time you leave and will be able to quote whole passages at you." She bit down softly on her lower lip. "I reckon you've already done all of our summer homework?" Scorpius nodded. "Figures," she said with a light laugh. "I haven't even started."
"It didn't take me too long, although I had to re-write my Transfiguration essay."
"That's good. That it doesn't take long to do, that is. You know me, I'll probably put it off until the night before we go back to school."
"You really oughtn't. If you were to start earlier, then --"
"Yeah, I know, Mum's been telling me the same thing for years." She leaned forward and added in a stage whisper, "Hasn't done a bit of good. Besides," she continued, rocking back, "if I started doing homework when I was supposed to, then I wouldn't have a reason to come pester you in the library."
"You could come pester me anyway," Scorpius said, his cheeks warming. "I wouldn't mind; I like the company."
"You say that to all the mad girls who pester you, I bet."
"No, just you," he blurted without thinking. Rose's eyes grew huge. "I mean, erm..."
Before he could come up with something more appropriate to say, however, Rose had closed the distance between them and grabbed his wrist. "C'mon," she said, tugging him along. "There's too many people in here. Let's go out in the garden."
As he let Rose lead him out of the sitting room, Scorpius caught sight of a knowing look that passed between his mother and hers. He was far more interested, however, in the feeling of Rose's soft, warm fingers around his wrist. With a deft twist he managed to replace his wrist with his hand and curled his fingers around hers, a move that caused her to look over her shoulder and reward him with a dazzling smile.
To his disappointment, she released his hand as soon as they got to the bottom of the steps leading from the back door into the garden. "It's not much," she said, kicking off her shoes and striding barefoot across the grass, "but I reckon it's big enough."
"For what?" Scorpius asked, gazing around him. There was a shed, a workshop of some sort it appeared, at the bottom of the garden, and through the open door he caught a glimpse of movement: Rose's father, most likely, playing chaperon. A net supported between two poles, one of which Rose was now dragging to set next to the other, hung across the middle of the garden. A bricked-over patio with chairs, a table, and a grill rested against the side of the house, where a large orange cat lay sprawled, sunning itself. It blinked lazily at Scorpius, then raised a hind leg and proceeded to clean itself. An open-faced wooden box--possibly a shelter for an owl?--had been nailed to a nearby tree. Someone had attempted a couple of flower beds here and there, but for the most part the garden was grassed over. In all, it gave off a very different atmosphere from the scrupulously manicured, topiaried garden at the back of his house.
"For Apparating, of course," Rose said. "Maybe you will have better luck teaching me than anyone else has."
"Oh, I doubt that. I mean, I'm probably rubbish at teaching."
Her hands planted on her hips, she exclaimed, "You are not, Scorpius! How else d'you think I got an O.W.L. in Astronomy?"
"Don't discount yourself like that, Rose. You'd've got an O.W.L. even without my help."
"Oh fine, be that way," she said, rolling her eyes and grinning. "I wouldn't have got an 'O' without your help."
"If you say so."
"I do."
Scorpius stuck his hands in his pockets, drawing comfort and strength from the familiar presence of his wand, and took a few steps towards her. "Apparating's not like Astronomy, though. I don't know if there's anything I can tell you that you haven't already heard a hundred times over. It's just... it's something you have to feel."
"Instinctual, you mean?"
He thought about this, then nodded. "Kind of, I suppose."
"That's a rather un-Ravenclaw-like attitude to take." At his puzzled frown she added, "That is, it's more like your lot to work out a solution to a problem, rather than just--" She waved her hand through the air. "--give yourselves up to chance."
"I don't know about that. Instinct isn't only about chance. Sometimes it's quite deliberate."
She laughed. "Yeah, you'd know about deliberate, wouldn't you?"
Her comment stung, probably more than she'd intended. "What's that supposed to mean?" he said more sharply than he intended.
"You're the most deliberate person I've ever known, Scorpius. Except for maybe my mum, but she's deranged anyway. Everything you do is calculated down to the smallest detail."
"That's not true at all."
"I bet you even plan out what you're going to wear each day a week in advance."
He opened his mouth to retort, then snapped it shut. "I do not." Truthfully, he planned his wardrobe four days in advance, to allow for unexpected changes in the weather, but he wasn't about to admit that she was even partly correct.
Rose drew closer, stopping when she was only about a foot or so away, and tilted her head to one side. With her bright eyes, she looked almost birdlike. "Really? When was the last time you threw caution to the winds and did something truly rash and impulsive?"
His mind raced as he sought for a good example to give her, but she was so close to him now he could scarcely think straight. He could come up with something very rash and impulsive he'd like to do right now, something that involved losing himself in Rose's eyes and lips for the rest of the afternoon. Rather than give in to the impulse, however, he said, "I invited you to my home for dinner."
She sighed and clucked her tongue. "That was your mum's idea."
"It was not!" he exclaimed vehemently. At her raised eyebrow he insisted, his voice almost pleading in its softness, "It was my idea to invite you."
For an agonizing moment he thought she was going to continue in this vein, but then her expression softened. "Was it really?" she asked, much to his surprise. He nodded. "Wow," she said, her voice so low it was almost a whisper. Then, louder, she turned and pointed to the bottom of the garden. "Erm, okay then, Mr. Fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, show me how to 'feel' Apparation."
Rose had the most amazing ability to keep Scorpius continually off-kilter, and so it took him a moment to regroup. "You want me to Apparate down there?" he asked after clearing his throat.
"Yeah, show me what you've got."
He glanced at her profile before saying, "Actually, it might be better if I start down there and Apparate to you. It, er, it helps to have something concrete to fix in my mind as my destination. You know, the three Ds?"
"So, what, am I to be a D?"
A smile ghosted across his face. "Something like that, yeah."
"It's always been my dream in life to be a D." She grinned. "Okay, then, since you're the expert, we'll do it your way. You go there and Apparate to me while I stay here, doing my best impression of a D, and maybe between the two of us I can work this out."
"Now you're the one who sounds like a Ravenclaw."
PART SEVEN