Shelter From The Storm

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: When Rose woke up in the hospital wing, she didn't expect a remorseful Cedric Diggory sitting at her bedside. She certainly didn't expect to befriend the boy - let alone what followed next. Prisoner of Azkaban AU. fem!Harry.

Rating: T for mild violence and language.

Author: tlyxor1.

Chapter One

When Rose Potter came to consciousness, she took the opportunity of peace to remember the events from before her unwilling sabbatical. She didn't need to open her eyes to know where she was. She could feel the starched linens of the Hogwarts infirmary beneath her fingers, and the pervasive smell of antiseptic had become entirely too familiar to her over the last few years. She opened her eyes, however, because she could hear someone breathing beside her, and in her experience, it generally meant something important. Dumbledore or Dobby, she'd learned that it was wise not to ignore whomever thought it necessary to guard over her comatose form.

Outside the hospital wing, through the windows at the end of the room, sundown painted the clouded sky an array of pastels. The storm had abated, the rain had passed for a time, and she wished she had her camera on hand, because the sight was one to behold.

Beside her, still in his quidditch robes, hair tousled and pewter eyes downcast, Cedric Diggory sat in one of the uncomfortable infirmary chairs, uncharacteristically sombre. She blinked at his presence, because Rose was certain she'd never spoken a word to the Hufflepuff in her life, but there he was, with the snitch in his callused hands, and a frown on his face.

Was that it? Had he come to brag? Rose didn't like to think badly of people unless they genuinely deserved it, and Merlin knew she didn't have anything bad to say about the Hufflepuff seeker beyond the usual trash talk of opposing teams, but she couldn't fathom as to why else he'd be seated by her bedside when he rightfully should have been celebrating.

That said, she'd not thought he was the kind to brag, though he did sort of deserve to after the game they'd just endured. It had been hellish to start with, though it had only gotten worse as the hours had dragged by. It was as though they'd been forced to play in the midst of a cyclone, and it was no wonder Slytherin had pulled out while they'd still had the chance. If the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were weaker players, it could have ended in disaster, but the members of both teams were strong flyers, and too stubborn to forfeit besides. The storm had ensured piss poor visibility and frankly ridiculous winds, and with the unforeseen addition of dementors, Rose was a goner. It was simply a wonder no one else was in the infirmary under Madam Pomfrey's tender mercies as well.

Thank Merlin for small favours, she supposed.

He must have heard her stir, or at the very least, he'd felt Rose watching him, because Diggory looked up then, and his expression morphed into something more akin to relief, and the smile he wore seemed to transform him. She'd known the fifth year was handsome, because Merlin knew she and the chasers had shamelessly gushed about him in the privacy of their locker room, but the expression focused solely on Rose had her heart skipping a beat, and she suddenly found herself speechless.

"You're awake," he said plainly, and Rose arched an unimpressed eyebrow. That was blatantly obvious and her expression must have said as much, because the fifth year blushed red and stammered something incomprehensible, uncharacteristically flustered. He'd always seemed so composed when Rose had come across him in the past, charismatic and charming. He was able to reel their peers in without them realising it, and she wondered if he was aware of the effect he had on them. She wondered also why he was so out of sorts now, a far cry from the behaviour she'd come to associate with the Hufflepuff.

Before Rose could get the chance to question Diggory about his presence beside her bed, or about the reason why he was so out of sorts, however, Madam Pomfrey bustled through the divide between her privacy curtains, approached her bedside, and unceremoniously handed the third year a block of chocolate. She'd picked up a rant that Rose was sure she'd missed the first half of, about the danger of quidditch and dementors and how Rose was determined to see the woman completely grey by the time her tenure as a Hogwarts students was over. Through it all. Rose nibbled at the chocolate offered, content to savour in the warmth the sweet offered, and content to worry about Diggory's presence in the hospital wing after Madam Pomfrey let them be.

"You'll have to stay overnight, just so I can make sure you suffer no lingering effects from the dementors, but otherwise, you're in pristine condition."

Rose smiled gratefully at the Hogwarts matron, confident in her belief that she had Madam Pomfrey to thank for that. At the start of her first year, the woman had pumped her full of nutritional supplements, magical inoculations and an apothecary's worth of healing potions to see Rose grow into optimal physical form for an eleven year old girl, and despite the fact that her report to the appropriate authorities seemed to have gone nowhere, Rose would always feel grateful for the mediwitch's support. Even if only for a listening ear, the teenaged girl knew she could rely on Madam Pomfrey, and that was a certainty that couldn't be shaken.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," she acknowledged, and with a tender card of the woman's worn fingers through Rose's sable hair, the witch left Rose's bedside with a stern directive towards Diggory to make sure the Gryffindor got some rest.

The two students watched her leave, and when she'd disappeared out of sight and hearing range, Rose let her head loll to the side, still confused by the presence of her Hufflepuff counterpart by her bedside. She met his gaze with her own, a clash of green against a grey flecked blue. He was truly entrancing, really, with golden brown hair, high cheekbones, and a thin nose. Rose had to mentally shake herself before she got lost in the swirling depths of eyes that she couldn't decide the primary colour of, and she'd never been so captivated by someone before.

"Congratulations on your win," she said, and the words felt hollow in the space between them. he grimaced in response, and Rose supposed he felt the same. It was refreshing, she decided, because after Draco Malfoy and his sore loser tendencies, it was nice to know the Hufflepuff seeker didn't indulge in cheap victories.

"It doesn't really feel like much of a win," he admitted.

Rose shrugged. "Play hard, win hard." She smiled sardonically. "I'm just glad it wasn't Malfoy. I'd have never heard the end of it, otherwise."

Diggory smiled at that, and he conceded the point with a nod of agreement. "I'm sorry I didn't see you fall. By the time I had, I'd already caught the snitch, and I was too far to catch you. I feel awful about it, and I just wanted to apologise."

He truly looked it, too, earnest an mournful, as though someone had died. His hair was a mess, and there was a frown on his face, and Rose was uncertain how to tell him that he was not to blame in a way that would ensure he'd actually believe her.

"It's not your fault," she contested, "The dementors are hell…"

Cedric grimaced his agreement, but to Rose, it seemed as though the unnecessary guilt lingered. "They're awful. Dumbledore was apoplectic after you fell. Rumour is, he's been in his office arguing with the Minister of Magic for hours."

"Here's to hoping he can get them gone," Rose acknowledged, though she wouldn't hold her breath. She admitted as much, and the Hufflepuff seemed surprised by her cynicism. He didn't contest her words though, and rather, he seemed to agree with them. The topic wasn't pursued further, however, because in Hogwarts, it went without saying that everywhere had ears, and their thoughts regarding Dumbledore were better left unsaid. Instead, he asked about her wellbeing, and Rose was confused by his concern.

Perhaps it was just the guilt.

"How do you feel?"

"I'm alright," she answered, She thought about the dementors, about the memory they raised from the far reaches of her mind, and smiled bitterly. "I'll live. Do you know what happened to my broom?"

He grimaced, and gestured to the indistinguishable lump at the foot of her bed. It was something unidentifiable wrapped up in cloth, and the sympathetic expression on the Hufflepuff's face was all the explanation Rose really needed.

"When you fell off, the winds carried it directly into the path of the Whomping Willow. Madam Hooch said it's irreparable."

"How nice," she deadpanned, but a part of her had broken inside, and Rose didn't think she'd ever be able to treasure another broom like her beloved Nimbus 2000. Against the wrath of the Willow, her baby would have been snapped like a twig underfoot, and she wasn't particularly surprised by Madam Hooch's assessment. "That blows."

Conversation idled after that, Rose lost in thoughts, and Diggory unsure of what to say, but before things could get awkward, Madam Pomfrey bustled back in, a tray in hand. On it, a bowl of broth, a small bread roll and a glass of water had been set for Rose, and the girl pulled herself up eagerly, mildly hungry despite herself. The cloying sweetness of the Honeyduke's chocolate burned at the back of her throat, and she was eager to wash away the taste, broth or no, so she ate with restrained enthusiasm, entirely aware that the Hufflepuff watched her all the while.

"I'm glad you're alright, Potter."

"Thanks for your concern," Rose acknowledged, settled back against her pillows, "You're sweet."

He blushed and stammered, and Rose was endeared. She smiled her mirth, he smiled sheepishly, and climbed to his feet.

"I'd better go. Curfew's soon."

"You should," Rose agreed, "Enjoy your victory while you can." With a wink, she added, "Next time, I'll win."

He chuckled, carded a hand through his hair, and made for the divide between her privacy screen with a grin over his shoulder. "We'll see about that, Potter. Good night."

Rose returned the farewell in kind, watched the Hufflepuff leave, and settled back to sleep when the older boy was gone. The smile on her face lingered into her dreams, and she thought Cedric Diggory was a pretty cool bloke, all things considered. She hoped he could become a friend, because Rose could use all of those she could get - the genuine kind, anyway. She could count on two hands the people she was genuinely close with, but she could write a laundry list of the people she associated with on a daily basis. The contrast was depressing, but sometimes, fair-weather friends were unavoidable. The Girl Who Lived was a legend most every one of her peers had grown up with, and Rose had accepted that there would always be people in her life determined only to receive their fifteen minutes of fame.

It had been a hard lesson to learn, but after her first and second years, learn it she had. Rose liked to think she'd come out better for it, if more jaded and cynical than she already had been after a life under the Dursleys' tender mercies, but there were other times she wished she didn't have to be so guarded. She knew what it felt like to be hurt by those one called friends, however, and it was a pain she had no desire to endure again. If that meant people like Cedric Diggory would have to prove themselves before she'd trust them, before she'd let them past her walls, than so be it.

With how many times she'd been let down by those she should have been able to rely on, it was a wonder she was willing to let people in at all, truly, but Rose knew there was good in people. She'd seen it already, in the primary school teachers who'd tried their hardest to make her life better, in Madam Pomfrey, and the friends she'd gained since she'd started at Hogwarts. She hoped Cedric Diggory was like those friends of hers, but that was something she'd have to learn over time. A part of Rose couldn't wait to find out.

Author's Note: Because apparently, I have the attention span of a gnat. Enjoy.