Come out of things unsaid

Shoot an apple off my head

And a trouble that can't be named

-Coldplay-

"Mum," Rose rubbed her temples dropping down on her couch, flailing her legs. "I'm going to need you to stop worrying."

"I'm your mother. I'm allowed to be concerned."

"Of what?! I've been a journalist FOR YEARS! And I'm fully aware of your opinion on the matter mother! But I'm nearly 25 years old-"

"Not until July!" Hermione Granger Weasley insisted with a fierce expression on her face.

Completely over this conversation, Rose sunk so low on the couch that she slipped down to the floor, in a gesture of complete and entire defeat. Her dark hair, and thick bangs, hung in her eyes as she rolled around on the floor.

"Rose, would you stop that? Why do you always do this? ..." Hermione turned out of the fireplace, to speak to someone on her side, "Ron she gets this from you!"

Rose snorted and laughed, clamping her hand over her mouth.

"Rose Weasley, you are a grown adult, get up off the floor."

"See that's the joy of it ma," Rose smirked, "I'm an adult, this is my flat, I can do whatever I want. If I want to lay down here all day thinking about my life or my choices I can-"

"Maybe you should do that." Her mother retorted.

Rose groaned, rubbing her face. "OR I could lay here and think about what my spirit animal is."

"Your Patronus is a drag-on." She scoffed.

"I'm highly aware of that, but that doesn't mean that's what I would be if I turned into an animal. For all you know I'd be a harmless bunny or a cheetah!"

Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "I swear your brother is older than you."

"Whatever mum."

"I don't have time for this. I have to go to work, as do you!"

"Really? I thought that I could just...show up whenever I want." Rose teased her mother relentless, her face impassive.

"Good-bye Rose!"

Rose stayed on the floor for a few minutes, giggling to herself.

When she was younger her mother's hovering used to drive her mad, but the older she became the more amused the whole thing made her. Rebellion to other kids would be smoking, drinking and doing drugs. For Rose it was sneaking out, getting a tattoo and choosing to be an investigative reporter, instead of going for the safe cushy ministry job that her mother wanted her to go for. It made the monthly family night dinners exhausting, to hear her mother and grandmother outwardly expressing concern over her, but she had long learned to ignore it. She wasn't going to just get a sensible job, get married and have children; Rose wanted to live her life.

To be fair only her grandmother pushed the children and marriage on her, but Rose still felt resentful that her mother had fought in the last wizarding war for their rights so that her daughter could sit on her hands and do nothing all day.

Popping to her feet, Rose walked over to the mirror and checked out what she was wearing; dark tight jeans, ankle boots, with a black wife beater and a vintage leather jacket. She didn't particularly like wearing all black or having dark hair, it made her look far too pale, but she'd been in this branch of the Daily Prophet too long to give it much more than a few moments thought. If she did a different type of reporting she might be able to keep her red hair and not have to have long thick bangs to make her look as plain as possible. But this was her life, blending in to get the gritty stories that no one else could get, and she was good.

In the seven years she'd been working in the Daily Prophet, she'd worked in three different areas; fashion, homicide and investigative reporting. She stayed in fashion for about a year before she was allowed to transfer. Working with clothes and trying to understand the importance of designer's choices with colors and patterns wasn't quite Rose's thing. For two years she'd worked with homicide, and absolutely loved it. It was like one big puzzle she had to solve, but she didn't get as much work as she should've, because of her name. That was when Rose decided it was her time to make a difference. Rose switched departments again, but this time she took a different approach. She changed her hair, changed the way she dressed, changed how she put on her makeup and even changed her eye color from blue to green. Soon people didn't notice too much what her name was, but started noticing the stories she was writing.

For the past four years it had been like this. She went by a different name in her column. Her close family knew her pen name and she was free to live her life and write the stories she wanted to write. Often she wished she could do it under her own name, but she worried that no one would take her seriously still. After all, her whole everything she'd ever accomplished was always attributed to her surname, not her own merit, why would that change now?

Sighing Rose, pocketed her wand and said, "This is as good as it's gonna get."

"Yo Malfoy," Damon smirked sitting on the edge his best friend's desk. "Where were you this morning?"

Scorpius laughed at his dark haired friend. "I was sleeping. Where were you?"

"Very good question. I was sleeping with a very lovely girl. My question is, why weren't you? I had you all set up!"

"Yeah I know you did," Scorpius scoffed, with a small grin. "She wasn't my type."

Damon rolled his eyes, "She was tall, brunette and busty, what's not to like?"

"She didn't say a word the whole evening, she just looked at me like everything I said was gold and laughed at the horrible jokes Albus was making."

"Okay the one he made about the two American's wasn't half bad."

"You had about five firewiskeys when he made that joke. I think your judgment was rather impaired."

Damon shrugged, "Think what you want Scorpy."

"You really have to give me the most detestable nicknames don't you?" Scorpius wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"See, I'm good looking and adorable so I can get away with pretty much anything."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night mate."

Standing up, Damon adjusted his robes, his dark hair falling into his gray eyes, accenting the bad boy Auror image he worked so hard to perfect. Scorpius didn't even look at his friend. He'd known Damon Turpin since he was six years old. Both children of fallen Death Eaters, they bonded quickly and were nearly inseparable when they were both put into Slytherin. It was different with Albus. As soon as Scorpius met Albus Potter on the train to Hogwarts they connected immediately since they had nearly everything in common. Damon on the other hand seemed to really push the limits of the friendship contract they signed when they were eight. Maybe now that they were 25 he could broker and put an end to that contract.

"Well I guess I'll go see if my REAL best friend is in yet." Damon huffed walking away.

"You do that." Scorpius replied wryly going through his paperwork.

Yawning, Scorpius took a sip of his coffee and rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. He had sporadically insomnia his whole life. Some nights he was fine. He'd come home and go straight to sleep, but then other nights he wouldn't be able to settle his mind. It was never about anything in particular; he just couldn't seem to turn his brain off. It always used to drive his girlfriends crazy. They'd awake to find him sitting by himself in the living room and think there was something they could do to fix it, to fix him, and when they couldn't it usually attributed the countless other reasons they couldn't make it work in their relationship. It was a bit aggravating, but by the end of them all he found himself a bit relieved that it was over.

Albus strolled over with a wide smirk on his good-natured face. It was funny; he actually was mistaken for Damon sometimes. They both had jet-black hair, pale complexions, but the minute they stood next to each other it was obvious that 1) Damon was really rather short, which was funny, considering his pompous behavior and, 2) Albus was built like a beanpole, like his dad had been at that age whereas Damon had at least a small amount of muscle.

"So I hear it didn't go so hot last night?"

"Merlin, what is he trying to get paid for being a nosy git now?" Scorpius laughed shaking his head.

Albus shrugged with a distinctive look of amusement. "Probably. What's new with you?"

"Nothing. Just working the night shift tonight."

"Oh joy. Last time you did that, you had to babysit those psycho spinsters."

"Thank you, because I really wanted to remember that."

Albus grinned, cradling his tea into his chest. "Who else is on duty tonight?"

"Me," Scorpius scratched his face thoughtfully, "Um, Joe Savage, Mike Smith and Clara Wilkins I think."

"Joe and Mike? That sounds like you're getting the old W3 crew back together to me."

"Don't remind me. I enjoyed living with them so much in my youth that I find myself wondering why Mike isn't always in the bathroom."

Nodding, Albus sighed wistfully, "Don't we all? Don't we all."

Arriving at work, ten minutes before she was due to report in, Rose walked over to her dearest cousin's office, which was only a cubical or two away from her own. It was nice working so close to James. If she had to get stuck with one relative, she'd pick James any day of the week, and every hour over her cousin Lucy.

"Hey stud," Rose teased, waltzing in without knocking, setting his half cream, whip creamed topped coffee on his desk, before dropping into the open chair next to him.

James grinned, "How are you Ro?"

"Can't complain. Mum's on the warpath about my job." Rose snorted wryly before taking a rather large sip of her own coffee.

"Well everyone can't be a Senior Quidditch Correspondent like myself... She needs to get over it though." James rolled his eyes running a hand through dark wayward hair. His brown eyes twinkled in amusement. "Did you hear Ted Davis died?"

"No shit, how?!" Rose gasped adjusting her position to tuck one of her legs underneath her.

"Well you know, the word is that a week or so ago he was caught with his pants around his ankles by his wife with the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation, but this morning he was found dead in his flat."

Rose frowned, but then it occurred to her, "Wait I know he is the Head of International Magical Cooperation, but his mistress...she was someone important..."

"She's the 20 year old American Minister of Magic intern."

"AHHHH! That is such a juicy story. What are the leads on that one?"

"No idea yet, all it said in the paper were the facts. I'm sure the Auror's office will meet with someone about the suspects and how the case is going later this week."

Rose let out a low whistle, her mind going over all the possibilities of how the man could have been murdered. "Damn that's a good story...Who found that one?"

"Actually it didn't come from homicide. They didn't go over the crime scene until after the story was already written. I think someone from your department actually got the inside track. And since it obviously wasn't you...Crate is out on sick leave, Jones never takes gossip...Then it was either Zerga, Kenneth or Hamilton."

"It could have been a ghost writer." Rose suggested, with a shrug, "It's hard to tell which one of us writes what just based on writing style. Jones is the only one who venomously denies if something was written by him."

"Either way. The man is dead, and someone is going to get to tell the story of what happened."

Rose gave him a knowing smile. James always pushed for her to return to the field she loved most, but he never understood why she hesitated. It wasn't something she could really explain, even to him. "One day I'll return to homicide and be able to figure those puzzles out again."

"I know." He gave her a warm smile. "By the way, I'm having dinner with Albus and he's bringing those two sidekicks of his."

"If that's an invitation to tag along and be a buffer I'll pass." Rose grinned popping up out of her seat. "But do give him my love. I hardly see Albus these days, what with him working all the time and dating that abominable...I don't even know how to define that woman...No word seems to do her justice."

James laughed hard, his high cheekbones rising, making his brown eyes grow small. "I have yet to meet the woman, but from what I've heard from you, Lily and Hugo, I'm sure she's a lovely young woman."

"You'll see soon enough." Rose checked her watch, fastening it tighter so it would block her tattoo. She hugged him, "Well I must be off. I'll see you Sunday."

"Don't forget to bring dessert or my mum will have your arse!" James called after her.

Rose didn't even bother to respond. She had to turn in an article, see if she was left any new assignments and spend the rest of the day doing research. It was nice to be mostly freelance. She'd get assignments like the staff writers and was paid the same amount as them, but there was just something to be said about rarely being expected to be at her desk. It didn't hurt both that sometimes her job took her overseas and let her see the underbelly of the world. And she really liked that.

Erika, the office manager of sorts, waltzed over to Rose the minute she made it to her desk with a stern look on her round face.

"Erika, what do I owe the pleasure?" Rose smirked, knowing the frazzled look on her friends kind face.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous Davis is being?"

"He's a Ravenclaw," Rose shrugged.

Erika sighed, and handed Rose her mail. "We're having a department meeting on Tuesday to discuss new procedure's on assignments."

"Thanks for the notice," She glanced through her mail, "But don't let Davis get to you. He's an uptight prick."

"I know, I know."

"How are Joseph and the kids?"

Erika lit up at the mention of her family, her hazel eyes warming. "They're good. Hunter is turning eight later this week."

"Aw, that's cute. If you ever need a sitter, you know who to ask."

"Thanks Rose," Erika smiled walking away in better spirits than when she arrived.

Letting out a low whistle, Rose finished rifling through her mail until she found one without a return name or address on it. Her eyebrows puckered together in excitement, and she glanced around to see if anyone was looking before opening the previously sealed envelope.

'West Ealing, West London, Cavendish Avenue at about 6pm. Come alone.'

Rose burned the note and sat down at her desk. It wasn't uncommon that the department was sent anonymous tips or she wasn't sent to get information from unnamed sources, but no one had ever sent her anything personally. That meant that either the information was too hot and it couldn't be trusted with just anyone, or that they wanted to get her alone. The second option was terrifying, and while she replied to the letters she had received, she thought about what she should do. The logical part of her mind was screaming that this was stupid and that she shouldn't even consider going after this lead. All day she struggled with the decision, but finally at 5:45, she decided she was going.

She sent a note to Albus as a backup resort and left the Ministry.

Scorpius rubbed his eyes, and yawned. It was 11:47. He had gone home for a few hours to get a nap before his second shift. He'd be in until 1am before he could go home and crash. He was only on duty in case there was an emergency, but there hardly ever was. The war was over; occasionally there would be a murder or something to that effect, but nothing that would require all six people on duty to be needed. Mostly it was just time he spent going over his casework and trying to stay awake.

Since Joe Savage and Albus were working, he'd hope they'd come bring him back some coffee like he'd asked them hours earlier, but he didn't hold his breath. The Ministry coffee was horrid, but he bravely took a sip and dealt with it.

His boss, a husky man in his late fifties started marching over to Scorpius's desk. He'd seen him in the distance and groaned. Though most of his casework were cold cases and he didn't mind that, but he did mind the throbbing headache growing in the back of his neck. The idea of going out this late to get this perp wasn't what he wanted to hear right then, but then again, maybe sitting down was putting him in the mood he was in. Either way, he tried to keep his mind open.

"Malfoy," Clarkson began briskly, "You have a new assignment."

Scorpius leaned back in his chair with an inquisitive look on his face, "What is it?"

"An investigative reporter witnessed Alexander Nott murder a civilian. With her testimony we can put him and half his guys in Azkaban. We just need someone stationed with her 24/7 to make sure she makes it to the hearing in three months."

He wasn't too thrilled with the possibility of spending every moment of his day with a stranger, but he shrugged it off. Being an Auror had made him flexible; he'd had to endure much worse than this during training alone.

"Alright."

"Potter and Savage, are bringing her back now." Clarkson declared, scratching in silver mustache, before walking away.

"Oi! Clarkson! I forgot to ask. What's this girls name?"

Only a few desks lengths away, Clarkson turned and said, "Rose. Rose Weasley."
Scorpius's bad mood returned instantly, and he sunk into his chair, his headache growing.
"...Ah."