The Bends In The Road

A faint breeze sashayed through the block, breathing life into the dense July air and rustling blades of grass so they tickled Rose's calves. She sighed and turned the page of Mrs. Dalloway, relishing the feel of sun on her shoulders.

The front door slammed open and Rose started, her head whipping toward the house. Hugo's gangly frame stood in the doorway, his thick brown hair pointing every direction. "Rose!" he bellowed.

"Stop shouting." Rose rolled her eyes. "I'm right here."

"I didn't see you," Hugo said. "And Mum said to call for you and tell you it's time for dinner so that's what I did. I called."

"You could've been quieter," Rose grumbled, folding down the corner of a page to mark her spot and closing her book as she got to her feet. "Or just not done it at all. I was having a nice time."

"You were being boring and reading," Hugo said as he led the way through the front door. A thick, summery aroma of grilled meat and fresh fruit blanketed the kitchen and both brother and sister inhaled deeply when they walked in.

"I'm not boring," Rose replied, though without much fervor. She took her seat at the table and watched her mother direct a procession of dishes with her wand.

"Yes you are." One of the dishes had barely landed in front of Hugo before he snatched it and began heaping mounds of corn onto his plate. "You al'ays jus' wa'a read."

"Hugo, don't talk with your mouth full," their mother admonished, finally taking her seat. "And hello, Rosie, I've hardly seen you all day. Now, where is your father? I told him ten minutes ago to come downstairs." She frowned and looked around the kitchen before pointing her wand at her throat, muttering "Sonorous," and saying in what Rose and Hugo called her Wizengamot voice, "Ronald Weasley, you are now officially late to dinner and your family is waiting on you!"

Upstairs, there was a muffled snort and muttering. A few seconds later, heavy footfalls sounded on the steps and Ron Weasley walked into the kitchen shaking his head. "Honestly," he said with a grin as he took his seat, "I'm upstairs putting away my shirts, which you asked me to do, and I get yelled at for being late for dinner!"

"Oh," Hermione said. "I forgot I'd asked you to do that."

Ron shook his head and gave his wife a swift kiss on the cheek before turning to the food in front of him. "Thi' i' grea'," he said thickly after taking a large bite.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes and turned to Rose. "What were you reading today, sweetheart?"

Rose hastily swallowed and pulled out her book. "Mrs. Dalloway," she said to her mother. "Aunt Audrey told me Virginia Woolf is her favorite muggle author."

"How lovely," Hermione replied. "Have you read Orlando yet?"

Rose shook her head.

"Mm, you should read that next. I'll get a copy for you next time I'm in London. Maybe you can give it to Lucy when you're done; I think she'd like it as well."

"Er," Rose paused and bit her lip, wondering whether or not to tell her parents that Lucy hadn't written in the month since school had ended. Finally she simply shrugged and muttered, "Yeah."

Rose's mother furrowed her eyebrows and looked as though she were about to say something more when Hugo snorted and said, "Nobody else will want to read it because nobody else thinks reading is fun."

Rose's shoulders sagged and a wave of affection for her brother washed over her. Quickly, before her mother could say anything else, Rose cried with forced vehemence, "Other people think reading is fun!"

"You're right," he smirked. "Mum thinks it's fun too."

"And a good thing they think it's fun," Ron said, raising an eyebrow at his son. "If your mother didn't think reading was fun, your Uncle Harry and I probably wouldn't be here. And if Rosie didn't think reading was fun she wouldn't be top of her year in every subject."

"Dad," Rose groaned, "don't-"

"Every subject!" Ron repeated, as though afraid she hadn't heard him. "Even potions! How brilliant!"

"It's been a month," Rose sighed. "Please stop talking about it."

"Stop talking about what?" Ron demanded. "The fact that my daughter is the smartest one in her year in every bloody subject?"

"Ron, language," Hermione said in a warning tone.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "But, Rosie, every b-er-bubbling subject! It's amazing! The only thing that could possibly've made it better would've been if Ravenclaw had won the quidditch cup."

Rose groaned again at that. "Don't remind me," she said. "James was unbearable for the last month of school."

"Well, I'm sure he was excited," Ron said. "And you really couldn't have done any more to hold them off in the final. They were an extraordinary team this year."

"I know," Rose replied. "We really didn't have very high hopes of winning. And, anyways, I really just wanted to win my bet with Nathan and I did."

There was a pause and Rose frowned as her parents exchanged a look.

"We've, er, been meaning to talk to you about that," Hermione said slowly. "About your friendship with Nathan Nott."

"What about it?" Rose asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth. She shoveled more food on her plate, watching her parents out of the corner of her eye.

"Well," Hermione tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at Ron, who gave a small nod. "We know-we know you've been friends with him for quite a while-"

"Sin' fir' year," Rose said through a mouthful of potatoes, ignoring her mother's sigh. She hastily swallowed, eyes watering as the half-chewed food scraped its way down her esophagus. "And he's one of Al's best friends. And Lucy's boyfriend."

"Yes, we know," Hermione nodded, straightening in her seat. "And I just want to say that this is in no way your father and I trying to persuade you not to be friends with him or not to see him. Audrey says he's a lovely boy and I know that Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny agree. Even Uncle Percy thinks he's alright."

"Then what's the problem?" Rose narrowed her eyes and tapped her fork absently against her plate.

"There's no problem, darling, we just-oh, Rose, stop that, will you?" Hermione reached forward and wrapped her hand around Rose's wrist, silencing the soft clang of cutlery on ceramic.

"Sorry," Rose mumbled, setting the fork down and looking up at her mother. "What were you saying?"

Hermione released her daughter's wrist and sat back, smoothing her hair in vain and taking a deep breath. "We just-we want to be sure-er-"

"We just want to make sure you know Nathan's family were Voldemort supporters," Ron broke in. "His grandfather was right up there in the inner circle."

"I know that," Rose said slowly. "I mean, nobody ever told us but I figured-he said he and Scorpius are good family friends and everybody knows now about Scorpius's family-"

"Didn't you say earlier Mr. Nott went to Azkaban?" Hugo broke in, turning toward Ron with wide eyes. "You said he was one of the death eaters you fought at Hogwarts."

"Er," Ron stammered, turning quickly toward his wife. "Well, yes, Hugh, he did go to Azkaban, but I thought I told you not to repeat that-"

"That was Nathan's grandfather, not his father," Hermione said. She sent a glare at her husband. "And your father shouldn't have told you that. The Notts for the most part turned themselves around. The grandparents, the ones who were in Azkaban for a spell, part of their release deal was that they move to Uruguay; they can't return to Britain unless it's approved by the Wizengamot. And Theodore, Nathan's father, didn't do enough during the war to warrant imprisonment but was watched closely by the ministry for a few years after Voldemort was killed."

"Why?" Hugo breathed, staring at Hermione with unabashed awe. "Did they think he was going to try and attack someone? Did he kill somebody during the war?"

"No," Hermione said quickly. "No, plenty of people were kept under surveillance immediately after the war. The ministry wanted to be sure any "high-alert" persons, ex-death eaters or relatives of ex-death eaters, weren't trying to reorganize."

"And they weren't," Rose broke in, frowning at her mother and Hugo. "If Nathan's dad had done anything we would know about it."

"Theodore Nott was cleared completely almost sixteen years ago," Hermione nodded. "And shortly after, he married a half-blood."

"So he's not as dangerous as you were trying to make it seem." Rose flicked a piece of hair over her shoulder.

"I wasn't trying to make it seem like anything, Rose," Hermione snapped. "I'm not saying Nathan's parents are dangerous. It sounds like they've been perfectly civil to Lucy-"

"Lucy says they've been lovely."

"Yes." Hermione faltered slightly. "Well, we-we just-we thought you were old enough to know about his family's history."

"Okay," Rose said with a stiff nod, chewing on her lip. "Well, I know."

"We're delighted you're making friends with people from other houses and other families," Hermione continued. "Just-it's always good to be aware of their backgrounds. You don't want to be surprised with something like that."

"No, I suppose not."

"And," Hermione's eyes came to rest on Rose's, "you mentioned Scorpius. I know he's good friends with Albus and Lucy-"

"We're not friends," Rose interjected. She fought the urge to pick her fork up and begin tapping the plate again and instead took a small sip of water. The glass hit the corner of her plate as she set it down, the noise echoing through the kitchen. She looked up and found both her parents looking at her expectantly, evidently searching for more explanation. Rose bit down hard on her lower lip and moved her eyes down to the table. "We-er-we don't really talk."

"Right," Hermione nodded slowly, spearing a piece of chicken. "I guessed that much."

There was another pause. Rose ran her tongue over her lower lip, feeling the indents left from her teeth.

"So," Ron broke in, standing from the table, "now that we've established that Nathan Nott seems to be an alright bloke and Rosie isn't friends with miniature Malfoy, who wants trifle?"

Rose breathed in relief as the trifle dish floated into the kitchen and conversation turned toward Grandma Molly's recipe and its use of dragon's milk. She thought she had hated the pointed questions regarding her own love life, her mother's raised eyebrows and her father's suspicious glances whenever they asked about "that Vance boy," yet somehow the discussion on Lucy's boyfriend was even worse. Rose thought privately that she would rather sit down and give her parents a detailed description of every broom cupboard tryst she'd had with Theo than discuss Nathan's family history. She didn't know much about the Notts, other than that they had been involved with Voldemort and supported his fanatical regime, but the bits Nathan had shared with Lucy and which Lucy had in turn shared with Rose had been sordid, nauseating, horrifying. Worse still had been Lucy's description of Nathan as he talked about his family; he hadn't wanted to tell any of them, she said, for fear that they would no longer be friends. Rose hated death eaters with every particle in her body, but the very idea of Nathan Nott, who had never been anything but kind to her, being afraid that she wouldn't be his friend because of his family, made her feel as though she had swallowed a barrel full of slugs.

Rose chewed her trifle without tasting it and twirled her fork on her plate, careful not to look up in case she made eye contact with one of her parents and unwittingly reopened the interrogation. The last thing she wanted was to answer more questions about her friendship with Nathan. Or her non-friendship with Scorpius.

"So, dear, are you excited for Maren to come visit?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence that had descended on the family.

"Mhm," Rose murmured as she swallowed, looking up and forcing a smile on her face. "I think it'll be fun."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, taking a prim bite of trifle and laying her fork on her plate. "I think you two girls will have a grand time."

***

Maren arrived the next week with a large bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and a stack of the summer's Witch Weekly issues. "I figured you hadn't seen these," she said to Rose as she marched up the stairs. "You have to read the articles about Dom, they're fantastic. And there's even one about Molly. It's hysterical."

"Someone wrote an article about Molly in there?" Rose asked, raising her eyebrows and letting out a giggle. "What did it say?"

"Oh, the usual rubbish," Maren shrugged as they walked into Rose's bedroom. Maren flopped on the bed and started rifling through the pile of tabloids. "She's engaged to one of the top healers at St. Mungo's."

"What?" Rose's eyes went wide and she put a hand over her mouth. "But aren't they all at least forty?"

"Oh, yes," Maren said gravely. "It's quite the scandal. According to the article, they're going to announce Molly as one of the new junior healers in a couple of days."

"But that's mad." Rose shook her head. "She only just became a healer in training."

"I'm not the one who made it up," Maren replied, opening the bag of every flavor beans and taking a handful. "I'm just telling you what it says. D'you reckon Lucy saw it? I sent her an owl but she never responded."

"I dunno," Rose said dully, flipping a page and shoving a handful of beans in her mouth.

Maren waited a moment as though expecting Rose to say more. When Rose simply kept reading she shifted and said, "Well, have you heard from her?"

Rose bit the inside of her lip. "Not lately," she said, popping another piece of candy in her mouth. She grimaced. "Eurgh. I got a toenail flavored one."

"How the bloody hell do you know what toenail flavor tastes like?" Maren demanded, throwing the bag aside and staring at Rose. "Don't lie to me, Weasley, have you eaten toenails before?"

"No!" Rose cried, shaking her head vehemently. "It just tasted-I dunno-like what I imagine a toenail would taste like."

"D'you imagine eating toenails often?"

"Oh, shut it." Rose rolled her eyes and turned back to the magazine in front of her. "Last year you ate a real doxy egg for a galleon."

"It was still worth it."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the fluttering magazines and chewy candy masking their silence. Rose swallowed and turned slowly to Maren. "So you-you haven't heard from Lucy either?"

Maren looked up, her dark eyes crinkling as she gave Rose a small smile. "No, I haven't. And Allie says she hasn't heard much from her either."

"Right." Rose nodded, chewing her lip. "So it's not just me."

"My mum said she thinks Lucy just needed some time to herself." Maren crossed her legs and grabbed the candy bag. "And she'll have to talk eventually because I know that she and Nathan have been writing. She'll have to tell us everything that happens."

A small smile escaped Rose's lips and she laid back, examining the article in front of her that was accompanied by a large, unattractive photograph of Dominique shouting at a photographer. "I hope so."

The two girls spent the next several days playing one-on-one quidditch, scouring tabloids for new ridiculous articles about Rose's family members, and discussing the year to come. Both agreed that fourth year had been, for the most part, a colossal failure. Neither of them had a boyfriend (though Rose had come close, they decided that since she and Theo had only been snogging in broom cupboards and he had gone with someone else to the Victory Ball, it didn't count), the Ravenclaw quidditch team hadn't won the cup, and neither of them had mastered Dominique's hair curling charm. They made a pact that fifth year was going to be better; they were going to be better.

"I'm going to get up and go flying every morning," Maren said on her last night at Rose's. They were lying in Rose's bed, whispering so as not to wake up the rest of the family. "I'm going to do drills by myself and fly laps so I'll be the best flyer at school."

"I'll go with you," Rose replied. "Between the two of us, Ravenclaw will have to win the cup this year."

"We should get the others in on it as well," Maren murmured. "I know Henry would love it and I'm sure we could get Katrina and Ly in as well. And we can ask Scorpius—"

"Ugh," Rose groaned. "I don't want him there."

"Rose, come on-"

"No!" Rose sat up and brushed her hair away from her face, staring down at Maren. "I told you what happened at the ball. I don't want to see him!"

"You're going to have to see him at practices. Henry said we're all going to have to be ready for long hours this year."

"I don't care." Rose crossed her arms and huffed. "I don't care that I'll see him at practice. I'll just save every single goal he tries to get past me and then maybe he'll get hit by a bludger-"

"Rose."

"I'm sorry." Rose lay back down, turning onto her side so she faced Maren, her silhouette barely visible in the darkness. "He drives me mad, though."

"I know he does." Maren shifted closer so their forearms touched. "He can be annoying."

"He just-what business did he have at the ball to say all that to me? To tell me he hates nearly everything about me?" Rose swallowed and bit her lip. "I didn't do anything to him."

"You didn't," Maren said evenly.

"So I don't know why he hates me so much," Rose continued, furrowing her eyebrows and cracking her knuckles. "Nathan and I are friends. You and Allie are friends with me. Lucy and Albus are friends with me, though they might not count because they're my cousins."

"Rose—"

"If all of you are friends with me and don't think I'm awful then why does he think so?" The question came out as little more than a whisper and Rose shrank back into her pillow, wanting to curl up into a ball. A pathetic little ball that cared what somebody like Scorpius Malfoy thought of it.

Maren moved over and Rose could feel her friend's hair tickling her shoulder. "He doesn't know you like the rest of us know you, Rose," Maren said gently, the pillow muffling her voice. "He doesn't know what you're really like."

"I was a git to him at the ball," Rose blurted out, breathing deeply as the confession escaped. "He was just trying to ask if I was okay and I yelled at him."

"We all have days like that," Maren said sleepily. "I doubt he cared that much anyway."

"If he really hates me, though-"

"He doesn't hate you. Or if he does, then it's his loss."

"I don't want anyone to hate me."

"Then make him not hate you. You two could be friends, you know."

Rose sighed and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling sprinkled with pixie dust she'd begged her parents for when she was six. "I don't know, Maren," she said, tugging the blanket up to her armpits. "I think it might be too late for that."

***

August arrived in its usual hazy manner and with it came the month-long Weasley summer retreat at the Burrow. The cousins all reunited with many hugs, a few friendly smacks, and one bruised tailbone (James swore he hadn't meant to run into Albus on his way to greet Roxanne). Rose, while she was glad to see her family, couldn't help but notice rather sadly that the crowd of cousins now seemed rather thin. Vic, of course, hadn't been at the Burrow over the summer in several years and neither had Teddy. Dom was still in Egypt breaking both curses and hearts; Lucy, to Rose's disappointment, was staying in Ireland with Aunt Audrey for another two weeks and Molly, who had moved in with Vic and Teddy until she found her own flat, was working nearly every day at St. Mungo's.

Rose glanced around at the Weasleys and Potters gathered in the yard. James and Fred were about to enter their final year at Hogwarts and after that, who knew how much or how little of them she would see. They wouldn't be able to spend an entire month at Grandma Molly's, no matter what. And next year would be Roxanne's last year of school and then she would leave too. And after that Rose herself would be in her final year, as would Albus and Lucy, and then they would all disperse to different corners of the world, perhaps only seeing each other for Christmas.

She shook her head quickly to dispel the thoughts. She was only fifteen, she told herself firmly; there was plenty of time to spend with her family. And anyways, she needn't worry. Nobody was going far. Dom was the only cousin so far who had left England and she would be back soon, Uncle Bill assured them. Everything was going to stay the same. At least for a little while.

Rose's sentimentality was short-lived. In fact, it was shattered as soon as she walked in the door and was immediately thrown to the ground as something large and sticky hit her in the face.

"Oh, sorry, Rosie!" James cried. Rose felt his hand close around her arm as he half-lifted her up, cleaning her face with a swift flick of his wand. "I was trying to get the cake outside and it got a bit away from me."

"You couldn't have just carried it?" Rose asked through gritted teeth, wiping a bit of frosting from her hairline.

"And waste my precious energy? No," James grinned. "Haven't you learned yet about conservation of power? I thought that was part of the O.W.L. curriculum. The less power you put behind earlier spells, the more you can put behind later ones. I'm applying the same principle to my body. By saving my physical power now and levitating the cake instead of carrying it, I'll be much stronger in a few days."

"You're an idiot." Rose rolled her eyes and turned to walk away.

"I'll be able to lift Grandpa Arthur's old car!" James called after her. "I'll be like one of those muggle body bidders!"

"They're called bodybuilders, dunghead!"

The first few days at the Burrow were chaotic, with everybody wanting to hear about everyone else's summers, Grandma Molly insisting on spending time with each grandchild, and Fred and James pulling out their wands for the most primitive tasks. Within a few days, though, the family had settled down to its usual, manageable chaos. The cousins broke off into their own groups, Grandma Molly was content to stop her grandchildren in the yard and give them a kiss, and Uncle Harry had taken Fred and James's wands.

One day, a week after arriving, Rose sat beneath one of the large trees at the outskirts of the orchard, reading Orlando. She enjoyed the spot; a gentle breeze kept the summer air from becoming too oppressive and the trees provided ample shade so she wouldn't get burned. Best of all, a buoyant silence enveloped the orchard, making it the perfect reading spot. Rose smiled to herself and flipped the page.

"Rose!" someone hissed nearby. "Rosie!"

Rose frowned and looked up, her head swiveling around the apparently empty orchard as she tried to find the source.

"Rosie! Behind you!"

She turned and let out a small shriek as Fred appeared out of nowhere, stepping out from between two stumps as he shoved his wand in his back pocket.

Fred put a finger to his lips and shushed her, moving forward with carefully measured steps. "Sorry to scare you," he said. "I just saw you reading and thought you'd like to see something."

"What is it?" Rose asked, closing her book and staring at him. "And where did you come from?"

"I nicked my wand from Uncle Harry's desk so I could disillusion myself," Fred said, taking Rose by the elbow and leading her through the trees. "I couldn't let it see me or else it might've spooked and run away."

"What would've-?"

"I'm about to show you, but keep your voice down. They're easily frightened. Mind your footsteps, also. They have sensitive hearing."

Rose opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, shaking her head as Fred led her further into the orchard. They followed one of the overgrown man-made paths, passing familiar childhood haunts: the circle of stumps that Uncle George had fashioned into high-backed chairs so they could pretend to be King Arthur's knights, the copse of trees that yielded unusually sweet apples, the pile of misshapen branches that marked Fred and James's old fort. They came to a clearing and Fred stopped abruptly, dragging Rose to the side.

"You have to be quiet while we're here or else you'll scare it," he whispered. "No squealing, no screaming, no loud talking. Only whisper, and even that should just be when necessary."

Rose nodded and mimed spell-o-taping her mouth closed.

"Also," Fred continued, "and this is crucial, no touching."

"Okay," Rose whispered, trying to hide her confusion as she peered around the clearing. "What exactly am I not touching?"

Fred didn't answer, only walked toward one of the large, knotted trees and gestured for her to follow. Rose did so, watching as Fred took out his wand and tapped the tree in a short, staccato rhythm. The base of the trunk opened up to reveal a small hollow, inside of which lay what looked like a prickly brown pillow.

"I found him over by the garden surrounded by gnomes," Fred said as he knelt down. He picked a leaf off the ground and tapped it with his wand, transfiguring it into a towel. "Something bit him on the leg and he can't walk well and I didn't want anything to happen to him." Wrapping his hands carefully in the towel, he gently picked up the brown bulge and laid it on the ground.

"Er," Rose faltered as she stepped closer, peering at the curled up animal dozing beneath the tree. "What-what is it?"

"A kneazle," Fred answered, still not looking up as he took a small bottle out of his jeans pocket and squeezed a drop of the clear solution onto one of the matted brown legs. "A baby, by the looks of it. Usually if one is injured the mother will just leave it. This one might've died."

"So you took it to the orchard?" Rose cocked her head to the side and watched as Fred waved his wand over the kneazle, muttering an incantation. The animal's back leg smoked slightly and then went stiff.

"I couldn't just leave it there," Fred said, turning to look at Rose with wide eyes. "And something like this is so easy to treat; he should be all better by tomorrow. It would've been cruel not to do anything."

"That's," Rose paused, watching Fred grin at the kneazle and place it back in the hollowed tree. When that was done he unwrapped his hands, transfigured the towel back into a leaf, and pointed his wand at a small container next to the kneazle's snout. Water rose up to the brim. When that was done Fred reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a handful of nuts that Rose recognized as the ones Grandma Molly kept in the kitchen, and set them on the ground near the water. Finally, he tapped the tree with his wand in the same rhythm as before, and watched the hollow seal itself.

"Wow," Rose breathed, staring at the tree trunk concealing the invalid kneazle. "You did all that?"

Fred shrugged. "And I didn't like to see him hurt."

"How did you know to do all that, though?" Rose asked, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as they walked back toward the path. "How to heal it and what food it would need and everything?"

Fred shrugged again, though a note of pride crept into his voice as he said, "We learned most of it in care of magical creatures, what kneazles eat and where they like to sleep and how often they need water. The healing stuff was just basic. I probably couldn't do anything for a more serious injury but for this one all you really need is Essence of Dittany and an antiseptic spell."

"Wow," Rose said again, turning to look at Fred. "You learned all that from care of magical creatures?"

Fred nodded and shrugged, running a hand through his dark thick hair. "There's a lot to learn there if you pay attention."

"So I guess most people just don't pay attention?"

"No." Fred shook his head. "They don't."

They walked quietly along the path, Rose with her head turned toward the trees, imagining that she was a star-crossed lover, like Juliet Capulet or Anne Elliot, meeting her beloved in the thick trees and plotting their escape from oppressive families. She smiled as she imagined herself and a dark handsome stranger stealing through the night, risking their families' anger and abuse, just to see each other's faces. It was terribly romantic.

"I'm sorry about the ball," Fred said suddenly, breaking Rose out of her reverie and bringing her back from the dark woods of her imagination to the small orchard of the Burrow.

"What?" she asked, turning to face him.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "The, er, the ball. I'm sorry about that. For being such a git about you going with Herrick."

"Oh." Rose flushed and shrugged in response. "It's alright. I mean, you were a prat, so don't do that again, but-but you were also right."

"Yeah, well," Fred made a face, "he's a load of dung."

"He is," Rose agreed, giggling in spite of herself. "A giant load of dung pretending to be a wizard."

"So now maybe you'll listen to me when I tell you not to go to the ball with someone?" Fred asked.

"No, I'll still go with them." Rose gave him a pointed look. "You can't control me, Fred."

He frowned and opened his mouth.

"But I'll be more careful," Rose added quickly. "I won't go with blokes I barely know who ask me last minute and use more potions in their hair than I do."

"Good," Fred nodded. "That's all I ask."

The path opened up as they approached the edge of the orchard. Rose ran forward to her vacant tree, under which Orlando waited patiently with its rustling pages. She sat down in front of the book, reveling in the late afternoon sunshine, open air, and the knowledge that she and Fred were friends once again.

"You want to know a secret?" Fred asked as he sat down beside her.

"Sure." Rose sat up and raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"What?" Fred shook his head and laughed. "No, but good try."

"Are you running away to join Aunt Luna on her hunt for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

"Close." Fred snorted. "Quite close, Rosie. Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised seeing as you're one of the smartest cousins."

"Wait," Rose frowned and whipped her head around, "what?"

"I'm not hunting Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Fred said quickly. "But I am, well, I'd like to work with Uncle Rolf. As a magizoologist. I've been owling him this summer and he's been telling me about his work in Stockholm and it's-it's interesting. And I think I'd be good at it."

"You want to work with Uncle Rolf?" Rose asked, cocking her head to the side. "That's the secret?"

"Er, yeah," Fred muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving her a sheepish grin. "It really is a secret and you can't tell anyone. James is the only other person who knows."

"But why-"

"I haven't told my dad yet that I don't want to work with him at the store."

"Oh." Rose paused. "I didn't think about that."

"Yeah, well." Fred shrugged and reached out to pick up Rose's book, absently flicking through the pages.

"You should tell him," Rose said, sitting straighter and tugging at a loose piece of hair. "He'd be really proud of you, Fred."

"I know that." Fred breathed in deeply, folding and unfolding the corner of a page. Rose resisted the urge to tell him to stop because he was going to crease it. The page didn't matter, she reminded herself; she could magically smooth the paper later.

"I know he'll be proud of me," Fred continued. "It's just, I dunno, what if he's disappointed?" He looked up at Rose, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners and his mouth twisted into an expression so perturbed it looked almost comical on Fred's open, easy features.

Rose sat back, twisting a piece of hair tightly around her index finger. "He won't-" She stopped herself. The comforting sentence she wished to deliver stuck to the roof of her mouth, unwilling to come out because even she knew it was a lie. Uncle George would be disappointed. Maybe even crushed. Ever since Rose could remember he had talked endlessly about the day his children joined him full-time at the joke shop, when he could finally say again that the store was his and Fred's.

"You can't work there just to make him happy," she said finally, looking up to find Fred staring at his hands.

"I know," he answered sullenly. "I just don't want to upset him. The store's so important to him, you know? And so was his brother."

"But so are you. And," Rose nudged him in the shoulder, "I think you'd make a bloody brilliant magizoologist."

Fred laughed softly, laying the book on the ground beside him and wrapping Rose in a hug. "Thanks, Rosie. Not to be a stuck up prat, but I think so too."

***

August days slipped past like gilded beads on a bracelet. Rose finished Orlando and began reading The Picture of Dorian Gray and helped Fred care for the injured kneazle until it was well enough to be released. Two weeks into Rose's stay Friday morning dawned, the horizon dewy and whispering of impending autumn. Rose awoke early and rolled over in bed, peering out the window. She frowned and let out a grumble, cursing her east-facing window and the bloody sunrise for waking her up at such an unreasonable hour. She had just closed her eyes and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders when her bedroom door creaked open.

"Ugh, Mum," Rose groaned into her pillow. "What do you want? It's too bloody early."

"Sorry," Lucy said. "I forgot how loud the door is."

Rose cracked one eye open and then sprang up, staring at her cousin who was walking through the doorway as though it were the most natural thing in the world, dragging her school trunk behind her.

"When did you get here?" Rose asked dumbly, brushing hair from her face as she gawked. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, foregoing all attempts at elegance in an effort to greet her cousin as quickly as possible. She got to her feet and moved forward to give Lucy a hug, but Lucy had taken a sudden interest in the clasp of her trunk.

"Er," Lucy stammered to the heavy silver lock, "I've just arrived."

"Right." Rose wrapped her arms around her torso and gazed down at the tiny dinosaurs roaming across her pajamas. "So now you're here."

"Yes," Lucy nodded. "Now I'm here."

"You should've told me you were coming," Rose blurted out, biting her lip when she saw Lucy stiffen. "I just-I would've gotten up and come downstairs to greet you."

"I didn't want to bother anyone," Lucy said evenly, finally unlocking her trunk and rummaging through its contents.

"Well, I didn't want to bother you with a letter just to say that I would be coming early in the morning."

"You didn't bother me with any letters at all this summer," Rose said with attempted nonchalance. Her voice merely came out sounding stifled, as though she were holding her breath as she spoke. "I don't think I would have minded one."

Lucy didn't answer. She ducked her head into her trunk, loudly pushing contents around.

A sour taste erupted in Rose's mouth as she watched Lucy. She chewed furiously on her bottom lip and wound a strand of hair around her index finger.

"I didn't mean to leave you in the dark," Lucy whispered finally, still half-buried in her trunk. "I just didn't have much to say to anyone this summer."

"Right." Rose nodded, forcing the bile back in her throat. The tip of her index finger grew numb and she turned to see it had turned a grotesque shade of purple. She hastily unwound the hair, massaging the skin until it regained feeling.

"I didn't think you'd care when I arrived." Lucy reemerged from the trunk and sat back on the floor, picking at her thumb nail.

"Of course I care," Rose breathed. She shuffled from her perch, wondering if it would be a terrible idea to get up and engulf her cousin in a hug and refuse to ever let go.

Lucy finally turned to look at her, brown eyes settling on blue. She nodded.

"And, er," Rose crossed and uncrossed her legs, trying to will Lucy to stand up and come sit next to her.

"Hm?" murmured, still sitting rigidly on the floor.

Rose exhaled and gave a small smile. "I'm glad you're back."

The corners of Lucy's eyes crinkled slightly and the corner of her mouth moved infinitesimally upward as her lower lip quirked. "Me too."

The day passed slowly but pleasantly. Rose, to her disappointment, did not see much of Lucy, who was busy unpacking and writing letters to her mother and Nathan. But at lunch Lucy sat beside her and asked what she was reading and after a dinner of Grandma Molly's excellent shepherd's pie, they walked together upstairs to their room.

"Is Lily not sleeping in here anymore?" Lucy asked as she put on her pajamas, swivelling her head around.

"No," Rose shook her head. "Since Dom and Vic aren't really here anymore she moved into the third floor room with Roxy."

"So you've had the room to yourself for a month?" Lucy raised her eyebrows. "That sounds nice."

"It was two weeks." Rose shrugged and bit the inside of her cheek. "And I didn't really like it."

"Really?" Lucy asked as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "It sounds lovely."

"It was strange." Rose pulled back her blankets and climbed into bed. "It's weird not having anyone nearby when I go to bed. I had nobody to talk to. It was awfully lonely."

"Hm," Lucy murmured. "And you're not often lonely, are you?"

Rose didn't know what to say to that so she simply grunted and didn't answer, letting the rustling of the sheets fill the silence.

Lucy sighed and turned out the light before laying down on her cot and pulling a blanket around her shoulders.

Rose stretched out her legs in the dark, pointing her toes toward the opposite side of the bed and rolling her head on the pillow. The sheets beside her were cold; her toes grazed across the icy crispness and she shivered. "Lucy?" she asked softly, turning to peer at her cousin's dark form.

"Mm?" Lucy mumbled.

"D'you want to share the bed?" Rose hesitated. "I'm used to sharing it with Lily and there's no reason for you to sleep on the cot if it's just the two of us."

A beat of silence dropped between them. Then Lucy, through the swish of crumpling sheets, said softly, "Okay."

Rose heard the blankets being pushed to the side, heard the soft patter of Lucy's feet across the floor, felt the mattress dip as Lucy climbed up and settled beside her.

"Mm, this is much more comfortable," Lucy sighed, tugging her pillow to the side and closing her eyes. "I had to sleep on the sofa at Nana and Granddad's and it was awful."

"Do they not have bedrooms for all their grandkids?" Rose asked, rolling to her side so she could see her cousin.

"No," Lucy shook her head.

"Why not?" Rose furrowed her brow. "What about when you lot visit?"

"We never really visited them until now," Lucy said. "They always came to visit us because it was easier and we always spent holidays over here with Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur. And Molly and I are the only grandchildren that Nana and Granddad have so I suppose there was just never much of a reason for them to expand their house."

"Oh." Rose furrowed her brow, thinking of her own beloved Grandma and Granddad Granger. "That's sad."

Lucy made a noncommittal sound and shrugged. "It was okay. I don't think they minded visiting us here."

"But still—"

"And anyways," Lucy continued, "I was just happy I got to spend part of the summer with Mum."

Rose swallowed, making a show of turning onto her back. She chewed her lip and weighed her words, trying to think of what her mother would say in this moment. It would probably be something conciliatory and encouraging, but not pitiful. Just sympathetic enough that Lucy would know Rose was genuinely sorry but not so much that Lucy would think Rose was belittling her. She hesitated, then said carefully, "How-how is that now? Your parents, I mean? Is it better?"

"No." Lucy's voice hardened. "It's awful."

"Oh." Rose stopped, waiting for Lucy to continue. When she didn't, Rose moved closer and murmured, "I'm sorry, Luce."

"It's fine," Lucy said. She moved her pillow away from Rose's and turned onto her side, facing the wall. "I'm going to go to sleep now, though, if you don't mind. I'm rather tired."

"Okay," Rose whispered feebly to her cousin's shoulders. "Goodnight."

Lucy remained aloof for the next few days, spending long hours composing novel-length letters to Nathan and listening to truly terrible Celestina Warbeck covers on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Rose tried not to notice, filling her days with two-a-side quidditch and Oscar Wilde. To her delight, though, one rainy morning three days after her arrival, Lucy agreed to

"Why did you two want to come out here again?" Lucy asked when they were deep into the orchard, tightening her ponytail and wincing as her wellington boots sank into yet another puddle.

"It's fun," Rose shrugged, skipping down the trail and taking great care to splash directly in the middle of the largest puddle. Water sprayed all around her and she withheld a squeal, grinning as shiny droplets appeared halfway up her shins.

"Rose, you're getting me all wet," Lucy muttered, stepping gingerly to the side and safely out of the splash zone.

"Lucy, you have to appreciate puddle jumping," Albus said. "Come on, see how big of a splash you can get!" He leaped forward and propelled both feet toward a puddle. His right foot landed but his left skidded across the soft ground, so that Albus came crashing down with a shout and splattering of mud.

Both girls dissolved into giggles as they watched Albus's green eyes widen to the size of quaffles. His jacket, already an atrocious mustard color, was now coated in mud and wet grass, so it took on a rather impressive camouflage pattern. He got unsteadily to his feet, swaying slightly and running a hand across his face to wipe off the dirt.

"Blimey, Al," Rose gasped through fits of giggles. "That was-oh Merlin-"

"That was amazing," Lucy chortled, brushing tears from her cheeks. "Oh, yes, I do see how this is fun."

"Shut it," Albus groaned, shaking his head and laughing as both girls squealed and jumped away.

They wound their way down the path, Rose jumping in every puddle she passed and Lucy eventually stepping carefully in one or two; Albus declared he had jumped in enough puddles for the day.

When they passed the copse of trees where Fred had hidden the kneazle a few weeks earlier, Rose stopped and showed them the hollowed out tree, unable to suppress her grin as her cousins watched in amazement.

"He took care of it all by himself?" Albus asked, dropping to sit on a patch of grass, ignoring the ground's squeals.

"Mhm," Rose nodded, grinning as she sat beside him. "He rescued it and fed it and fixed its leg and everything."

"Wow," Lucy said. "I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"He did brilliantly, too," Rose added, sitting up a bit straighter. "The kneazle was all better after a week and he released it back into the orchard."

"Maybe after school he can work for the Department of Control of Magical Creatures," Albus said. "He'd be good at it."

"Don't be silly," Lucy said, flicking her hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes. "We all know he's going to work in the store with Uncle George."

"Actually-" Rose quickly closed her mouth and forced herself to simply shrug. "I-er-I dunno. He could do a lot of things."

"He should go to Romania to study dragons with Uncle Charlie," Albus said, a smile blooming on his face. "Then we could all visit him."

Lucy shook her head and tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. "Al, really. You know Fred would never do that. Uncle George has talked for ages about Fred working with him."

"He could still do something else, though," Rose said quickly, turning to face Lucy. "What if he doesn't want to work in the store?"

"Of course he wants to," said Lucy, her eyebrows knitting together. "He's said a million times that he's going to work there and he never seems unhappy about it."

"He could always change his mind."

"I don't know why he would," Lucy sighed, laying down on the ground and spreading her arms out. "It's everything Fred likes. Jokes, his family—"

"But what if he likes something else?"

Lucy shrugged. "I suppose he could do that, then. But-I don't know-if I were him I wouldn't even think about it."

"Maybe he doesn't want to work with his dad," Albus said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't want to work with mine."

"I don't want to work with my dad either," Lucy said softly. "But then, I'm not sure my dad would let me work for him. He'd probably say I'm underqualified."

"Lucy," Rose began.

"No, no," Lucy waved a hand airily and tugged on the end of her ponytail. "He would be right. I mean, I've not done anything special enough to go right into working for his department-" she trailed off, biting her lip and fingering the ends of her hair. "But, anyways," she said with a shake of her head, "that's neither here nor there."

"I think it's a little here," Rose murmured, watching Lucy carefully. "Just because Fred can work with his dad doesn't mean he should."

"But it would mean so much to Uncle George," Lucy replied, twirling a piece of hair around her fingers. "And Fred would like working in the shop."

Rose shrugged and opened her mouth, searching for something to say.

"Luce, maybe you should work in the joke shop," Albus broke in, grinning and leaning forward. "It sounds like you'd like it more than Fred."

Lucy gave a small smile but quickly shook her head. "No. Dad wouldn't think that suitable at all."

"So what?" Rose asked, moving closer.

"He'd probably say he has much higher expectations of me than working in the family joke shop," Lucy said, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Luce, you already exceed everyone's expectations," Rose said warmly, catching Lucy's hand and squeezing it. She smiled.

"I don't know about that," Lucy said softly, wriggling her fingers free.

"How can you say that?" Rose cried, sitting up straighter. "You're brilliant and always one of the top students in the class, you're one of the prettiest girls in our year-"

"You're dating Nathan and he's one of the best blokes I know," Albus broke in, nodding.

"And you're probably going to be made prefect this year," Rose added.

"No," Lucy shook her head. "I don't know that I will be."

"Why?" Rose asked, furrowing her brow. "You're the obvious choice."

"I think it might go to Allie," Lucy shrugged. "She'd be a lot better at it than me."

Rose paused. Bugger, she thought, Allie would make a good prefect. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and said loftily, "Well, I think you've got a good shot at it. And even if Allie's prefect, at least you never dated Malfoy."

"Oh, Rose, honestly." Lucy rolled her eyes. "When are you going to let that go?"

"She dated that prat for a year, Lucy!" Rose cried, throwing her hands in the air. "An entire year!"

"I'm leaving," Lucy said, rolling her eyes again as she got to her feet. "I don't want to spend my day listening to you complain about Scorpius."

"I'm not complaining about him, just our friend's terrible lack of judgment-"

"Hey!" Albus cried. "He's my friend, what are you saying about my judgment?"

"Nothing, Al," Rose said with a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. "You're not snogging him so it's not that bad."

"Ugh," Albus groaned, getting to his feet and miming gagging. "I need to start spending time with Fred and James instead of you two."

"Nah," Rose laughed. "They'd just hex you."

Albus snorted but otherwise didn't respond, which Rose took as his silent agreement.

"Are you two coming?" Lucy called from where she stood twenty meters away, her wellington boots sunk halfway into a puddle. "I want to see if Al falls again on the way back!"

"We're coming!" Rose cried, tightening her jacket around her. Lucy nodded and turned, stepping carefully out of one puddle and into another.

"Say," Albus said beside Rose, watching Lucy splatter water everywhere, "she seems a lot happier now, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Rose said with a smile. "Yeah, I think you're right, Al."

***

Rose sat at the kitchen table the next morning with a cup of tea and The Picture of Dorian Gray propped up against a jar of marmalade. Rays of sun fell on the table as The Burrow groggily came to life, blinking awake as Rose read her book.

The peace was shattered a moment later by what sounded like a herd of centaurs running down the stairs.

"They're coming!" Lucy cried, barreling into the kitchen. "I saw them from the window, they're coming!"

"What-" Rose looked up, her head swiveling between her half-deranged cousin and the window at which she was pointing, utterly bewildered. "Who's coming?"

"Not who, Rose," Lucy said over the clatter of footsteps as Lily, Hugo and Louis came running into the kitchen. "It's our school letters!"

"Oh, blimey, I forgot about those," Rose said, closing her book and setting down her tea. "Hugh, Lily, are you excited to see the books you get to use for your new classes?"

"No," Hugo said, wrinkling his nose. "I'm just taking care of magical creatures and muggle studies."

Rose sighed. "I don't know why you didn't take runes."

"It's supposed to be hard," Lily chirped, raising her eyebrows. "James told me not to take it if I didn't want to work at Gringotts."

"It's useful for so much more than Gringotts," Rose said exasperatedly. "You learn how people communicate-"

"Rose, stop blathering on about runes this early in the morning," Albus said from across the table. "We're not even at school."

"Why's Rose talking about runes?" asked James as he strolled into the room with Fred and Roxanne.

Rose scowled. "Because you told Lily it's only useful for Gringotts-"

"Oy! Everybody, there they are!" cried Louis, pointing out the kitchen window through which Rose could see a legion of owls flying toward them.

Hugo walked forward and opened the window and they all sat back, jostling and pinching each other as all nine of the Hogwarts owls soared through the window and landed on the cramped kitchen table. A few minutes of chaos ensued as everyone tried to locate their letter and untie it without being bitten or elbowed in the face.

Rose didn't bother waiting for her cousins. Once she had freed the heavy parchment envelope from the owl's leg she promptly tore it open, pouring the contents onto the table. The booklist fluttered down, and something else fell onto the surface with a hearty clang.

Everyone's head turned toward Rose as she stared open-mouthed at the badge on the table, emblazoned with the unmistakable word: Prefect.

"Bloody hell," Hugo murmured, his eyebrows shooting up. "Rosie, who in their right mind made you a prefect?"

Rose didn't answer. She looked up slowly, eyes jumping over every cousin until they landed on Lucy, standing stiffly across the table with her own booklist and otherwise empty envelope.

There was a sharp crunch of parchment as Lucy's booklist disappeared into her fist. Jaw tense, she turned wordlessly and rushed from the kitchen.