Cornwall
In the end, it all worked out.
Kieran quit his job as soon as he got back from Iceland. He turned up on Rose’ doorstep the day after with his travel bag in hand. “Can I stay with you?” he asked. She wordlessly stepped aside and let him into her home, and silently begged him never to leave. She hadn’t known this about Kieran before he moved into Grimmauld Place, but he was a massive nerd. He wiled away hours in the Black family library poring over dusty old books, only to look up with bleary-eyed confusion when Rose returned after her work for the day was done.
“Have you moved since I left the house?” she asked, aghast.
“What time is it?” he asked in response.
Living together was good – really good. Travelling together had forced them to adapt to each other’s idiosyncrasies faster than if they had started out at a slower pace. That didn’t mean it was all smooth sailing. There were arguments, but they burned hot and fast, never lasting longer than a few hours on opposite sides of the house. Sir Woofalot moved in, and spent a fair amount of time chasing down doxies and hunting gnomes in the backyard. Grimmauld Place was great to start cohabiting, but it could never have been permanent.
“Can we find a different place to live?” asked Kieran one day over dinner, looking uncommonly hesitant.
“Why?” asked Rose slowly, confused and slightly hurt. Grimmauld Place had been left to her by Sirius. It had memories of him everywhere, and she would need a very good reason to let go of it. She hadn’t made plans of moving out until they had children.
“I didn’t bring it up earlier because I thought it was manageable,” said Kieran, grimacing. “It was, at first. I’m getting headaches. The walls of this place are saturated with Dark magic. It’s rather uncomfortable for my Mage-Sight. I love it here, with you and Sir, but the strain of maintaining low-level Occlumency is getting to me.”
Well, that was a very good reason indeed.
“Why didn’t you say anything before?” she asked in a small voice, ashamed that she hadn’t noticed he was in pain.
“I know you love it here, so I wanted to try,” he said simply.
“You should have said something.”
“I’m saying something now.”
So, she went to her Gringotts vault and dug up her property portfolios. She didn’t bother with the Black estate – the Dark magic would be a problem with most of those homes – and focused on the Potter ones. Her ancestors had focused on investing in businesses rather than real estate, but there were a few properties in England that seemed like they could be suitable.
Among them was a four-bedroom countryside cottage only a few kilometers from Falmouth that had been in stasis for years. It was a secluded holiday home only a short walk from the beach. While the garden was huge, the house desperately needed an upgrade and the wards were in severe disrepair. More importantly, there was barely any magic in the house, as empty as it was.
It was a blank canvas.
She took Kieran to see it that very weekend and asked him what he thought. He eyed the dated kitchen, the ivy creeping up the wall, the small but cozy bedrooms. It was no pureblood manor – though she did have one of those as well, apparently – but it would be enough for them and any kids they might end up having. There was room for Sir Woofalot to run in the backyard, and you could hear the sound of the ocean from the master bedroom. There was enough space on the property to expand, as well.
“Well?” she asked, when they’d seen everything.
“It needs to be renovated,” he said, finally, looking contemplative. “But I like it.”
“You do?” she asked, breaking into a smile.
“I really do. I especially like that there’s enough room to build the wards far from the house itself. I have some ideas for the warding, actually…”
Thus began their big renovation. Rose and Kieran moved out Grimmauld and into a Muggle flat while they fixed up their soon-to-be home. Within six months, the dated country cottage was nowhere to be seen. In its place stood a large country house, fully furnished with modern appliances and tons of personality. It was something out of a dream.
Rose had gotten a massive workroom in the basement of the house. There was a family library, where they’d transplanted all the books from the Black family library. They’d gone from four bedrooms to five, and added a luxurious bathroom to the master suite that had a gorgeous tub. Sir Woofalot had his own little nook underneath the stairs – she’d ripped the door to the cupboard underneath the stairs off herself and burned it to cinders – and spent his time napping and chasing birds outside. The wards on the estate – because now it certainly could be called an estate – were far from the house; far enough away that they didn’t bother Kieran’s Mage-Sight.
Bill and Fleur had come over to help with the warding, as they had ample experience in the field as well. The partnership had been incredibly fruitful – so fruitful that Bill and Fleur had quit their jobs with Gringotts to start their own warding business with Kieran. Aegis Warding Co. had only been on its feet for a few months when the jobs started trickling in. Kieran was busy as ever, except this time he came home to her every night. Her apprenticeship with Ollivander had kept her equally busy.
She was making wands that were up to his strict standards by now. While he only sold the ones with unicorn hair, dragon heartstring and phoenix feather, he no longer restricted her from experimenting on her own. He was baffled by her plant-based wand cores and rarely offered advice on that front, content to just watch as Rose tried and tried and tried.
The plant-core wands she had made on her trip had been brilliant at the beginning, but over time they had degraded. When the plant matter within died and lost its magic, the wand ceased to work. Rose had cried like a baby when the beloved birch wand stopped working, but had bounced back from the heartbreak doubly determined to make a plant-core wand that worked just as well as one with animal parts.
The breakthrough came when she preserved a cutting of Mandrake leaf in a slim cylinder of amber. When bonded to a beautiful piece of apple wood, carved with concentric circles and sealed with a tincture of rosemary oil and dittany, the wand came to life. It was strong and lovely and the most special wand she’d ever laid hands on. Rose could barely believe she’d made it with her own two hands. When she showed it to Ollivander, he’d wept and ended her apprenticeship then and there. The lily-of-the-valley apprenticeship Mark had sparked golden, and turned into a regular tattoo.
“I have taught you all there is I know about the craft,” he said warmly as she gaped at him. “You must forge your own path now.” He’d written her a letter of sponsorship for the Wandmaker’s Guild the next day. When he died peacefully in his bed only a few weeks later, the shop was left to her in his will. There were plans for a renovation of the wand shop in the works – Rose couldn’t stand the dark and dusty shop – but it could wait.
Their first evening in their house together, Kieran cooked. After a candlelit dinner in their new home, they took a walk down to the beach. It was a warm evening, and the sun cast pinks, reds and oranges across the darkening sky. It reminded her of another night in Italy, where she’d exchanged nervous glances with a man on their first date, unsure of who she was and what she wanted from life. She’d grown so much since then.
Two years ago, Rose had quit her job with the Aurors and fled the country, desperate to find out who she was beyond the Girl-Who-Lived. Now, Rose was entirely her own self. There was no doubt in her mind that she was loved – not only by her friends and family, but also by the gorgeous, wonderful man that entered her life when she least expected him and never left.
So, when Kieran got down on one knee on the beach and asked her if she wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, she didn't hesitate when she said, “Yes.”