Four Weddings and a Dragon - Charlie Weasley

Epilogue 25 - Rose and Scorpius

Rose Granger Weasley took a deep breath, keeping herself afloat on her back in the pond on her grandparents' land as the sun began to set. Summer was over, all of her paid leave from the National Magi-Marine Institute was used up, and after weeks of hiding in the country, she would be returning to London in the morning.

Days ago, Preston had owled to say that, finally, all of his things were moved out of their flat. It was now her flat alone, and it was time to sweep the floor and build a life without him. As break-ups go, it could have been worse. And it can never be easy. At least dear, dull Preston, an arithmancer in charge of monitoring the population density of the country's freshwater Lobalugs, had never proposed.

She was sinking and took another deep breath, her eyes on the clouds as they began to turn golden at their edges. The return to London and the institute and her flat was for tomorrow. She still had this last evening in the pond, and a strange sense of expectancy, like something was going to happen, like an electrical storm coming on. She felt it in the tips of her toes and fingers, at the roots of her hair.

Whatever it was, it would have to wait until her swim was over. Until then she took her precious, quiet, private time in what had been her favourite place in the world when she was growing up, spending summer days and nights here with her cousins, and with Teddy, and with his cousin...

Scorpius.

She bobbed to her feet when she heard the crush of footsteps on the gravel strewn over the dirt path to the dock. There he was, pacing toward the pond. No one else she knew walked like Scorpius, or reflected light in quite the same way, as if he was made of crystal. He'd been shorter than her until they were thirteen, the lingering effects of a sickly infancy. Then all at once he was made of long, sharp angles, quick movements, lost in his school robes. As an adult, he had settled into his own elegance, coming toward her now tall and pale and dressed in black at the end of a fine day.

The calm of the pond rippled and waved as Rose raised her arms and called his name.

"Your Nan said I'd find you here." He scuffed to the end of the dock on the smooth leather soles of his shiny black shoes.

"The dashing young research professor Malfoy has come all this way looking for me?" Rose said, blinking water drops out of her eyelashes.

He unbuttoned his suit coat and squatted at the end of the dock, getting closer to her level. "Yeah, something's come up at work. And I find myself agreeing with your Uncle Percy that there's no one better for me to discuss it with than you."

Rose didn't get out of the water but she did sling one elbow over the edge of the dock wetting the wood and splashing his shoes.

"Two things, Scor," she began. "Number one: what in the world could I possibly have to offer you and Percy in terms of the magical fertility research clinic? And number two: why in the world would anyone come to a summertime swimming hole dressed in a double-breasted, banker-stripe, charcoal wool suit?"

He laughed through a scoff. "The temperature's been getting down below ten degrees at night, perfectly appropriate weather for a lightweight wool weave. My wardrobe isn't ruled by the calendar, but by common sense. Unlike SOME people," he said, flicking away a droplet of water hanging from the end of her fine, slightly long Weasley nose. "Yes, you're a very impressive magizoologist, but you're still warm-blooded yourself. Aren't you freezing in there?"

She smeared the toe of his shoe with her wet hand. "A strong girl like me? No, I am thriving in it. But I can see how I might not risk it if I was as delicate as SOME people."

He clucked his tongue. "Rose, you know that's no way to tease me, questioning my hardiness. Twenty-five years we've been friends and I have never once claimed to be as vigorous as you."