A/N: This was written for Princess Gillybean for The Sober Universe's Christmas Secret Santa writing project. Merry Christmas, Gilly! Slightly late because I had a late night freak out writing this and had to contact Sara Winters for emergency beta and reassurances. If it wasn't for the lovely Sara, I would've truly lost it! So thanks, dear.

I can't promise this is a return to continuing my long-dormant HP/Star Trek/OLTL writing projects, so I do apologize for that, as I've noticed I've fallen behind in reviews and comments and such, and I've yet to complete my Daphne Greengrass story. I haven't been on FFN much in the past year because I've been focused on other things and I'm trying to write an original YA fic. I do sincerely thank you all for reading my stories over the years. Sincerely, much appreciated!

Now, onto the story… My first ever Scorpius and Rose fic. Merry Christmas Gilly, and I really do hope I did your darlings justice.

As Perfect As He Dared

Things were done a certain way in Scorpius Malfoy's world.

He didn't talk about feelings or anything like that. Not even to his parents. Mother doted on him in her own way; loving looks from across the room, saying his name in her soft, comforting voice, and giving him pats on the head and the occasional hug when he did something right.

Father wasn't as emotional or as talkative. Father loved him, certainly. He knew that. But it was a love at a distance, a cold, austere sort of formal love that resembled the small comfort Malfoy Manor gave. Huge, gaping ceilings, beautiful ornamentation that pleased guests and visitors, but very little in the way of softness, of furnishings, of anything lush and comfortable. He also knew that expectations on him were so high, were placed so squarely on his small shoulders at a young age, that sometimes Scorpius had to lock himself in his bedroom just to breathe.

He was a Malfoy. He was to marry a nice, sweet pureblood witch, even though it was impolite to discuss such things in public. He was expected to, one day, rule Father's fortunes. An empire that took blood and sweat and tears for Father to rebuild out of ruins and ashes of something that was before Scorpius' time.

Scorpius' journey toward his more perfect self led directly to Hogwarts, and on one Sunday afternoon late in August, he stood with his family on Platform 9 ¾, avoiding the chattering and nattering masses pouring in from all over.

Mother hugged him. "I love you, Scorpius. Write us if you need anything."

Father stood by her side and did not touch him. "You are the best. You are a Malfoy. Always remember that."

Scorpius would've replied, but something stopped him. A squeal, from a girl. A bubbly bright girl with fair skin and hair the color of fire.

It was her squeal that caught him, a squeal of pure, unbridled joy, of laughter. Mother and Father looked over across the way and they sneered at the family of redheads, at the man with black hair and glasses standing with his redheaded wife and their three children. The darker haired boy was looking around the platform for his friends; he had clearly been to Hogwarts before. The youngest son was nervous about something and the man was speaking to him, trying to get him to smile.

"Weasley… Potter…" Father mumbled. Mother squeezed his arm.

The redheaded girl had her arms around her redheaded father's neck. She looked like she was choking him to death. But the father wasn't gagging. He was smiling and kissing her head. And through the din of noisy children, of bells clanging to tell them the train was approaching, Scorpius heard her name…

"You're gonna be a star, Rosie. I know it and your mum knows it. You'll be great!"

Then they were all on the train. And then they made it to Hogwarts.

There was a Sorting Ceremony, involving a talking hat and some strange song.

When the feast was over and the kids began following their prefects to their towers, Scorpius followed his new Ravenclaw classmates. He kept to himself, trying not to look at the girl with fire in her hair.

But she was impossible to ignore.

"You're Scorpius Malfoy, aren't you?"

He sniffed the air and kept walking.

"Rose Weasley. I saw you on the platform."

He said nothing and just continued walking. Their group was approaching Ravenclaw Tower. Prefect Tamara Davies was answering a question asked by a brass doorknocker, something Scorpius couldn't exactly make out. The voice next to his ear was far too distracting.

"My father said I should beat you on every test. It looks like I'm going to get that opportunity now that we're housemates."

"I beg your pardon," Scorpius started, in the same tone Mother used when offended, "but you'll have to be at top form to even think about competing with me."

"Why?" Rose put her hands on her hips. "Because you're a Malfoy and you're perfect or some crap?"

"Well, since you put it that way… yes. Yes it is because I'm a Malfoy and perfection is something all Malfoys strive for." He hoped that put an end to that.

The common room was starry and bright, all deep blues and twinkling galaxies that spun within dark fabrics. A door led to their respective dormitories; next to that door was a magnificent marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, her tiara adorning her head.

They figured out which directions led to the boys' dormitory and the girls' dormitory. Scorpius was just about to head up the stairs, when a red-streaked blur whizzed past him.

"Race you, Malfoy!"

"Are you insane?"

But she was already off down the corridor, pushing past confused throngs of black-and-blue robed students. Caught up in the spirit of the moment, Scorpius felt his feet take off. Before he knew it, he was running down the corridor that led right to the girls' dormitory.

He only noticed the two Rowena Ravenclaw statues in front of a large stack of bookshelves right as he passed them.

An earsplitting SCREECH stopped him dead in his tracks. Books flew off the shelves and the statues' faces transformed into a horrifying expression. Scorpius tripped on his own robes. Looking up, he saw Rose Weasley, halfway inside the corridor, halfway inside the dormitory.

He knew by the look on her face he was screwed.

"Who set off the alarm?" Prefect Davies came flying down the corridor. "Only a boy could set off the alarm if they were heading to the girls'—" She stopped. "Malfoy! You were trying to get into the girls' dormitory?"

"I—I wasn't. She—" Scorpius pointed at where Rose… was. Of course, she was gone now, not wanting the same fate as Scorpius. The wooden door shut itself.

"Detention! Two days after classes. I'll let Professor Flitwick know so he can give you your punishment," Prefect Davies said, matching Scorpius glare for furious glare.

Scorpius fumed.

"I must commend you, Malfoy. That's a new record for a Ravenclaw first year to get detention their first night here."

He trudged up the stairs, ignoring the snickers from the fellow students. Slogging up to the first year boys' room, he plopped face first onto his bed, vowing never, ever, EVER to speak to Rose Weasley. Ever again.

Scorpius impressed himself. He got through numerous attempts by Rose to talk to him, to apologize for the incident that fateful first night.

He made it through the two days of detention, helping Professor Greengrass-Corner, his aunt, with cataloguing the various magical creatures for her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

"I'm doing this as a favor for my sister, Scorpius." Aunt Daphne drawled, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she monitored his progress in her office. "Your father nearly had a fit when you got detention. It made him feel marginally better when I demanded Professor Flitwick that I should deal with you myself."

He made it through Quidditch tryouts, feeling a slight twinge of satisfaction that he scored one more goal than Nigella Longbottom, fellow Ravenclaw and friend of Rose's. He made it through winning a position as alternate Chaser, and even joined a study group with Nigella and Mirah Corner, his cousin.

But it was at the beginning of December that Rose cornered him. He was making his way towards the Herbology greenhouses

"All right, Malfoy. I don't like this!"

Scorpius glared at her through narrowed eyes, but he said nothing. Rose glowered at him, hands on hips, hair flying behind her, brilliant and long and fiery.

"I don't like that you're still ignoring me. I've been trying to apologize—"

"I got detention and you ran away." Scorpius walked past her. Rose ran to catch up with him. Coming around to his front, obstructing his way, she jabbed her fist at his chest, but she didn't retract her arm.

"This is for you."

Scorpius stared at her. When he didn't make a move, Rose huffed and forced his hand open, dropping the thing in the middle of his gloves.

"You know my father and my uncle George runs Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, right? I'm allowing you a chance to get me back for not having your back earlier. You may use this at any opportunity over the next year, or as long as we're in school together all right?"

Rose pressed her lips together into a thin smile. She backed away, gave him a nod, and skipped further down to the greenhouses. "Merry Christmas, Scorpius."

Scorpius simply stared at her, confused, blinking. Not quite sure what he had just heard.

It was only once he got back to the dormitory later that evening, after dinner and studying, that he realized the little device was still in the pocket of his robes. Unwittingly, he grinned as he remembered the oddness from earlier in the day.

Second year wasn't all that different from their first year. Except that Scorpius noticed he was spending a fair amount of time with Rose Weasley.

It had started when she kept coming over to his tables while he was studying. Whether it was in the library, or in the Ravenclaw common room.

"You know, whenever I see you anymore, Scorpius, you've always got your face buried in some book."

Scorpius scrawled away on his parchment, making a note to return to a particular page in his Potions textbook. "You know, Weasley—"

"Can it with the 'Weasley' business, Scorpius. Call me Rose."

"Weasley, for a Ravenclaw, you don't ever seem to crack open a book."

Rose shrugged and propped her feet almost on Scorpius' parchment. "My grades are just fine, Scorpie."

He growled. He hated it when she called him "Scorpie". Worst thing was she did it all the time.

"See," Rose continued, "I think I was sorted into Ravenclaw because someone needed to lighten up the place here. You're far too serious." She stuck out her bottom lip mockingly. "So studious all the time."

Scorpius gave her a sideways glance. "Wasn't your mother considered Hogwarts' top student when she was here?"

"Yes, but Mum always said I took more after Dad than her. My favourite place in the whole world is Dad and Uncle George's shop." Rose chuckled. "As with many things in life, she's probably right that I'm more my father's daughter." She backed away from the table and shut Scorpius' book.

"Weasley!"

"Come on, Scorpius. I'm bored! And the Christmas holiday is right around the corner. Wanna sneak down to the kitchens, bribe some house elves for some hot chocolate and play a game of chess?"

Scorpius cocked his eyebrow. "Bribing house elves? Isn't that a violation of the Hogwarts student code? Wait… did you say you know how to play chess? I didn't know that. My father taught me how to play ages ago."

Rose stood up and pulled on Scorpius' robes. "I'm a fair player. My dad knows a thing or two about it. Now hurry up! We're wasting precious playing time."

Before he could even register a protest, Scorpius was already following her out the door, avoiding patrolling prefects. He realized after a few minutes that, for all his protests, he didn't exactly mind the distraction from his studies.

It was their third year, after Scorpius' first game as Ravenclaw Chaser against the Hufflepuffs, when something seemed to change between him and Rose. Scorpius wasn't quite ready to identify it, but there it was.

They were all in the middle of the massive Ravenclaw mound on the Quidditch pitch. Tamara Davies, Ravenclaw Seeker, sat upon Melissa Archwood and Geraldine Packer's shoulders, holding the fluttering Snitch in her hand triumphant. Rose had finally shaken off a very clingy Hugo Weasley, who was new to Gryffindor and nervous about his sister's associations.

She found him and ran towards him, squealing like she had done the first time he ever noticed her on Platform 9 ¾ two years ago. She threw her arms around his neck—

His stomach warmed and bubbled. And the hairs on the back of his neck tingled, like the patch of skin just below the collar of his Quidditch uniform where Rose's breath grazed. It was strange and weird and Scorpius had no idea what to make of it. Instead, he pulled away, looking slightly confused.

"Um… thank you, Rose."

"You were magnificent!" Rose clapped her hands together excitedly. "I was sitting with James—" Scorpius couldn't help but feel a twinge of contempt. James Potter, Harry Potter's son. Father had never had anything good to say about Harry and his family, so any time Rose mentioned James to him, he had to swallow the snappy insults that rested on the tip of his tongue.

Of course, he was best friends with a Weasley, a girl from a family whom his father disliked even more than the Potters. Maybe Potter the son wasn't as horrible as the rest of his family was…

"—who was practically drooling with excitement!" Rose continued. "'Can't wait to take Malfoy and the rest of those eagles in the next game,' he was saying. He was practically jumping out of his seat, he was so envious of your flying skills!"

Scorpius smirked. "Who wouldn't be? I'm a Malfoy — everyone should be envious of me."

But Rose wasn't listening to him. She had already turned away from him. Scorpius scanned the crowd, trying to find her, annoyed that she wasn't there anymore.

"Hey, Scorpius!" It was Nigella Longbottom, still in her Quidditch uniform, and she was with Mirah Corner and Bertha Nicholson.

Bertha Nicholson. Although she wasn't blessed with the most graceful name, Bertha was quite attractive. Some of the other Ravenclaw boys spoke about her in the dormitories and how pretty she was.

Scorpius had to admit they were right. Bertha was perhaps the prettiest girl in their year. Not to mention she was decently smart.

"Looking good up there today, Malfoy." Nigella said, slapping his arm hard. He smirked at her.

"Very impressive, the way you out flew both Dickerson and Vaughn," Bertha added.

"Appreciated." Scorpius' reply was blunt. He noticed Nigella wink at her friend and left to confer with Davies and Miles Raffian, Ravenclaw's Keeper. Bertha, however, stayed behind.

"So, I was wondering, Scorpius," she began, her voice a little quieter than normal, "would you be at all interested in going to Hogsmeade with me the weekend before Christmas holiday?"

Scorpius gaped for a few moments before he could find his voice to answer that the arrangement would be fine with him. Her invitation took Scorpius by surprise, but what got to him even more was that he sought out exactly where Rose was — talking to that prat William Railsbeck — before he replied in the affirmative.

Yule Ball. A new, and different Hogwarts tradition.

According to Father and Mother, the Yule Ball was traditionally held with the Triwizard Tournament, and usually, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were invited to attend.

However, since the war, Headmistress McGonagall, along with Madame Maxine of Beauxbatons and Headmaster Thrumpwood of Durmstrang, decided to make the Yule Ball a real event, with or without the tournament. And so every fourth year, the ball took place now, with each school taking turns to host.

And this year was Hogwarts' turn.

For some reason, everyone had expected Scorpius to take Rose Weasley to the ball, but before he could verify that she needed a date, she seemed to already have one, in the form of William Railsbeck. A bloke whom Scorpius loathed.

He regarded himself one last time in the mirror. His black dress robes were lined with a deep, royal blue. The lines were crisp and sharp.

Impeccable.

Tugging on his cuffs one last time, he walked down the stairs, just behind the other fourth-year Ravenclaw boys.

"Who're you taking again, Scor?"

Scorpius turned to Rory Callahan, one of his housemates. "Bertha Nicholson."

Whistles of approval. "She's cute." That was Miles Raffian. "We all thought you'd take Rose for sure, mate."

"Yes, well... That seemed to be the consensus."

"No seriously. We even had a wager going."

"Oh, shut it, Raffian!" Scorpius huffed and stomped hard on the last step. They entered the common room, all decked out for the holidays. Silvery trees adorned with sparkling ornaments and garlands of blue hung around the room, giving it a cheerful, festive appearance. Something Scorpius was not too familiar with from growing up in Malfoy Manor.

But what Scorpius saw across the room stopped him dead in his tracks.

Rose Weasley, wearing striking dress robes of royal blue.

It took Scorpius a moment to realize that he was holding his breath. And it took him just a few moments longer to realize that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Crap!

When did that happen? And... dammit, he needed to find his date fast.

What was her name again?

So busy was he trying to forget the vision of Rose in her dress robes that he only just caught her glancing in his direction too, just a moment before she averted her own eyes.

By his fifth year, Scorpius Malfoy realized that the Yule Ball was probably the worst thing to have happened to him.

That was the moment he realized he liked Rose Weasley. As in, he really, really liked her. Furthermore, he was certain that Weasleys and anyone remotely connected to a Weasley would not be deemed suitable for the son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy.

Scorpius tried telling any of this to his own heart, but it was no use. He tried to convince himself that Rose Weasley was far too vulgar to present to his parents. He tried to tell himself that Rose Weasley's penchants for pranks and obscenities and conveniently forgetting to do homework until the very last minute and then beg to look at his parchments meant she wouldn't be suitable for him.

But his heart always remembered every time he laughed and smiled, even through the stress of studies, and Rose Weasley was always at the center of it all. She knew exactly what to do and what to say to make everything better.

However, there was absolutely no guarantee that she would return his affections. Scorpius even sat down and wrote out a measured analysis, taking into consideration all known facts in his favor and those facts that were not.

Rose had been having a somewhat on-and-off interest with Railsbeck since their third year. Railsbeck was a good choice for Rose, at least far more suitable for a Weasley girl than a Malfoy could ever be. When he sat down and weighed all of the evidence, all possible contingencies, he felt it best to keep this new development regarding his affections to himself, lest it alter their already close friendship.

This conclusion, however, was greatly challenged by Rose's invitation at the beginning of December.

"Excuse me, but could you please repeat what you just said?"

Rose huffed at his question and rolled her eyes. "Mum wants you to join us for Christmas. She even extended the invitation to your parents, although..." Rose's voice trailed off.

"Although..." Scorpius impatiently gestured.

"Well, because of Dad's reaction to the invite, it's not entirely clear if your parents are still invited. Or at least if your father's still invited. Anyways, you definitely are, and even if you can't make it in for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day you can come up after the holiday or for the new year."

Scorpius didn't know how to reply at first. Finally, after moving his mouth up and down fish-like for several minutes, he spoke. "Sure. Um... Do I need to know any defensive spells in case your father tries to hex me?"

"I'll handle Dad. Just get your arse to the house so we can hang out and I can show you how us Weasleys party."

It was her smile that won him over.

From everything Father had said about the Weasleys, Scorpius never thought their house would be all that nice. Or clean.

But looking around, clearly the Weasley Wizard Whatsits, or whatever it was called, was doing well for Rose's family. Their house was big, although the manor dwarfed it. It was kept very clean; Scorpius suspected this was Rose's mother's doing. The way Rose spoke about her dad, it was clear he did not prioritize cleaning one bit.

One thing that Scorpius wasn't used to was how soft and comfortable everything was. From the couches covered in blankets and little pillows and quilts, to the guest beddings that had been laid out for him. Everything had color, and all of it was meant to give the user the optimum amount of warmth and comfort.

Scorpius was surprised that he enjoyed the plushness of everything. He supposed after the sharp-edged austerity of Malfoy Manor that he would've preferred more opulence.

Perhaps Hogwarts had spoiled him.

Everyone was outside, in the grassy paddock behind the Weasleys' house. For the past two hours, they had all been playing Quidditch, a rousing — and in Scorpius' case, bruising — match even among family members. Someone, Scorpius guessed Rose's mother or Ginny Potter, must've cast some sort of heating charms over the paddock, because although it was the end of December, he was sweltering from exertion.

He had been surprised when he was allowed to join in the Quidditch game, but he soon realized why; Frederick and James had apparently colluded to Bludger-shock him during the match.

Scorpius sat on the screened porch and watched the others goofing around, the Quidditch match long over. Rose was tossing one of the Weasley's patented joke Quaffles around, and it roared like a lion. She was playing with James and Lily and Albus Severus — who clearly won the award for the most unfortunate name ever. Frederick and Roxanne flew in circles with George Weasley and his wife, Angelina. Inside, there were a whole slew of Weasleys whose names he had long forgotten.

Father was right; the Weasley family multiplied like rabbits. Or cockroaches. Father usually said cockroaches.

Scorpius looked down at his now spotted arms. The bruises were developing rather nicely; he was going to be one sore Ravenclaw by tomorrow.

"Do you need some healing balm, Scorpius?"

He looked up at the gentle, maternal voice of Hermione Weasley, Rose's mother.

Wincing, he rolled his sleeve down; Scorpius never liked to show weakness or injury if at all possible. Perfection shouldn't get bruises.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley."

She handed him a steaming mug of dark liquid with white puffs bobbing, breaking the surface. Hot chocolate, with a hint of peppermint. One sip comforted him.

"Well, I'll put some in your bedroom so if you need it, you can use it." She gave him a wink and Scorpius felt himself blush. "Scorpius, they were a little rough on you up there, and they shouldn't have been. But I think you impressed them with your flying."

Scorpius snorted. "Weasl— um, Frederick's been waiting to have a go at me since we beat Gryffindor last year."

"Yes, I remember hearing about that, vaguely. Or, actually, every time anyone brought up Quidditch over the summer holiday, Frederick had some very choice Muggle words to say." Mrs. Weasley laughed, right as heavy footsteps sounded just inside the house. The door to the porch swung open, letting loose a cacophonic commotion that sounded very much like a stampede of drunken elephants.

"Hermione, where are you?"

"Over here Ron."

Mr. Weasley's bright-red head popped out from the doorway. "I've been looking everywh—" He stopped in mid-sentence.

Scorpius gulped. Mr. Weasley was staring right at him.

"Yes, Ron? What is it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley sounded testy.

Mr. Weasley narrowed his eyes at Scorpius, even as he addressed his wife. "Can't find that buggy log cake thing you made."

Hermione huffed. "It's Bûche de Noël, Ron, and that's for dessert. We haven't even had dinner yet! What kind of responsible mother would I be if I didn't make sure our families had a proper dinner, holiday or not?"

Another man slightly older than Mr. Weasley, but who resembled him a great deal popped his head out too. "Hermione, don't listen to the prat. He's just being a hungry hippo. A slightly rabid hungry hippo." He ruffled Mr. Weasley's head.

"Shut up, Charlie!"

"Heh… you might be an old fart like Dad, Ron, but you'll never be too old for me to take the piss!" Charlie Weasley ducked back inside, and Scorpius couldn't help but smirk at the exchange. The smirk quickly withered when he caught Mr. Weasley glaring at him.

"Excuse me, Scorpius," Mrs. Weasley said, patting him on the back, "I fear a dessert mutiny in the house, led by my husband. He might abscond with the cake any second." She passed by her husband and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Be nice. And act civilized, Ron."

"Don't I always?"

Mr. Weasley stepped out onto the porch, and as soon as he did, Scorpius searched around for an escape route. There had to be a way to get out of this very awkward situation.

"So…" Mr. Weasley pulled up a chair and sat down. He didn't look at Scorpius. "You and Rosie, huh?"

Scorpius cleared his throat. "J-just friends. Sir… uh, Mr. Weasley."

"No, I liked the 'Sir'. You should keep the 'Sir'." The chair creaked as Mr. Weasley leaned back. He took out his wand and twirled it slowly between his fingers. Like a threat. Like he was ready to strike Scorpius with a hex.

"You two being in Ravenclaw together, I'm sure you've always got your nose in books and parchments, right?"

"Yes, s-sir." Scorpius swallowed and pulled on his collar.

"Not up to any funny business, right?" Mr. Weasley's face drew his face together in a stern expression, and he raised his eyebrow.

Scorpius really wanted to say that it was "Rosie" who was the Ravenclaw troublemaker and not him, but before he had the chance to, Rose came running in from the paddock. "Dad, don't you dare hex him!"

"What? I wasn't going to hex him. We were just having a pleasant discussion about Hogwarts. Weren't we, Malf— er, Scorpius?"

Rose rolled her eyes and pulled Scorpius up off his feet. "Come on. Let's go someplace where the adults aren't all barmy!" She started running towards the circle of trees next to the house.

"Wait! Rosie, come here for a moment." Mr. Weasley gestured to her. Reluctantly, she returned to her dad and Scorpius watched them have a quiet conversation. As he watched them, Scorpius was struck by how affectionate Mr. Weasley seemed to be with Rose. He spoke gently to her. He ruffled her hair and kissed her on her forehead, all the while smiling as he hugged her tightly with both arms.

For all his bluster earlier on the porch, for all of his joking around with his wife and his brother, Ron Weasley's heart seemed to belong entirely to his daughter. Indeed, to his whole family. Although Scorpius certainly preferred the Malfoy way of things, there was something… nice about this. Different. But… nice.

"Come on, Scorpius!" Rose ran towards him. Scorpius managed to catch a final glimpse of Mr. Weasley. He stared back at Scorpius and held up two fingers to his eyes, flicking them right back at Scorpius. I'm watching you, he seemed to be saying. Scorpius didn't exactly feel keen to test that sentiment.

Rose was running toward a large tree and took hold of its trunk. "Up here!" she called out to him. Scorpius followed her, watched her as she climbed up the trunk. Above their heads were several wooden planks, nailed together to make a platform. Rose disappeared through a hole in the platform.

"Rose? Where'd you go?"

"Up here, silly!" The upper half of her body fell back out of the hole in the platform. She extended her arm. "Hurry up."

Pulling and lifting in turns, Scorpius finally made it through the hole into a rather large tree house. Rose was already sitting on a pile of pillows in the corner of the structure. There was a faded rug and a very small table with some wizard comics and magazines on top.

"It's charmed so people can't see it until they actually touch the tree and climb it. This is where Hugo and I go sometimes to escape the craziness of our families. And you, Scorpie," she said, flicking at his chest, "you should feel very lucky you're up here with me."

"Oh?" Scorpius settled down onto some old bean-filled cushions. "And why is that?"

"Because you're the first outsider to ever see this special place."

Scorpius laughed at hearing "outsider", but it sounded sad and wistful.

"What's wrong?"

"Rose, I… I don't think your family really likes me."

She plopped a pile of pillows next to him and got even closer, touching her side next to his. Scorpius wondered whether she could feel his heart racing, but quickly determined that, due to the layers of clothing they were wearing and that she was not in contact anywhere near his chest, she wouldn't suspect anything.

"Well sod 'em, I say! They have no say about who I choose to be friends with, so to hell with them." She slammed her hand on the wooden boards of the tree house. She fixed her gaze strong and steady on him, unwavering.

Many times in that moment, Scorpius wanted to look away. And he almost did. But there was something in the air, some charge, something electric and different. From the way Rose's eyes widened and then softened, the way her breath hitched just the tiniest bit—

She could tell something was different too.

Before Scorpius could act on the moment, Rose laid her head on his shoulder. Inside, he swore to himself. Why couldn't he just come out and say it? He was too much like Father, content in his own feelings but seeing little need in ornamentation. However, Mother kissed and hugged him. She found ways to express her affection in actions and in words. Perhaps he was capable of a little affection. After all, this was Rose Weasley. They were alone now, and things were shifting and changing between them…

Not a kiss, necessarily. The moment didn't need it. Not just yet.

Perhaps later. Maybe he could find some mistletoe—

"What are you doing?"

He heard a soft hum, like a sigh caught on a breeze. "Just relax a little bit, Scorpie."

"You know I hate it when you call me that."

"No you don't."

"Yes, Rosie…" Scorpius said pointedly. "I really do."

She whacked him playfully across the chest. "I don't like that name either." Her hand relaxed on his stomach. Things were quiet and nice. Except for the voices of the Weasley family just outside the tree house, Scorpius could almost forget there was anyone else in the world except for them.

In here, they were Scorpius and Rose. In here, they were warm and they teased each other, and everything was perfect and nice.

"Rose?"

"Mmm?" She sounded on the verge of drifting off.

"You do know this is the best Christmas I've ever had, right?"

"Well, 'course it is, Scorpius. You're with me."

He reclined backwards against the wall. He laid his hand on top of hers and gently threaded their fingers together. Then he smiled as big as he dared.

Fin.