A/n: So, this is actually a Christmas story, written after Christmas while I was still on a holiday high and based ever so slightly around the phone scene from It's a Wonderful Life (1946). I'm not really on the ball when it comes to holiday stories. Maybe you'll get a Valentine's story on Easter. But enjoy nonetheless!

Rose Weasley is sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant which is utterly packed with people, wearing a dress which is utterly too tight, and fighting back the urge to scream which is becoming utterly too enticing.

This has to be the worst date she's ever been on.

'Mum! Lily took my roll!' James hollers.

'Oi! Have it back, you prat!' His sister responds, lobbing the bread at his head. It ricochets and lands in Uncle Bill's soup.

'Don't make me go all werewolf on your measly Potter asses!' He shouts, throwing the roll back.

The Aunts aren't even listening.

'We've got the Ministry dinner next Friday, the board luncheon on the following Saturday afternoon, and then the Woods have invited us for dinner that night.' Hermione says, flipping through her trusty planner.

'Don't forget the Longbottoms. They have both invited the whole Weasley clan for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow.' Ginny points out. 'Merlin, I have nothing to wear!'

'Ma sœur and her family will be joining us, so count on four more têtes.' Fleur calls, leaning around her husband who is pretending to eat their son, Louis.

'Four more?' Hermione says, scribbling away. 'That makes our total thirty…'

'Mum and Da probably won't be joining us with Neville, but we need to plan Christmas.' Ginny says. 'They expect us to be over at the Burrow to open presents, but Harry needs to be at the Ministry to give his speech with the Minister by eleven.'

'Yes, and then he, Ron and I are expected to be at Hogwarts for our photo at Dumbledore's grave.'

'And Mum wants to make dinner for that night, so you'll need to get back to the Burrow.'

'We'll just have to leave the kids there for the day. It's too busy a day to have them under foot–'

'MUM.' Hugo shouts from the other side of the table. 'Teddy's playing footsy with me! Tell him to do that with Victoire!'

'That's you!?' The older boy cries, hair turning a violent red. 'Why didn't you tell me like five minutes ago?'

'I wanted to see where you were going with it. Vic's my cousin after all, don't want you feeling her up at the dinner table.'

Victoire drops her head into her hands as her father looks up, mortified.

'Teddy, stop playing footsy with Hugo.' Says Ginny.

'Hugo, lower your voice, we're in public.' Says Hermione.

'Now, what about the twenty-sixth?'

'The Malfoy Christmas ball.'

'Aw, do we really have to go?' Fred whines.

'It would be polite.' Angelina says, using her napkin to wipe away some stray spaghetti sauce from his chin. 'Besides, Albus is friendly with their son.'

'Sodding Al – thanks mate.' Fred grumbles, launching peas in Al's direction and spraying the entire table.

'Fred!'

'Dad!'

'Mum!'

'Fred!'

'Rose!'

Rose looks up from her dish where she had been spreading potatoes around and doing absolutely nothing wrong to stare over at her mother in wonder.

'Do something!' Hermione replies, gesturing to Fred, seated beside her, who is now flinging peas everywhere.

Rose pushes away from the table, simply fed up with her family and their crazy. 'I'm off to the loo.' She says, darting away.

'Be back soon!' Her mother calls after her. 'And don't talk to any of the reporters! The Prophet has enough stories about us as it is.'

In the bathroom, Rose splashes water on her face. Twenty-two and still treated like she's twelve! She can't believe it. And her family – uhg – wild. No wonder they're in the papers so often. Fred is the same age as she and still shooting peas across the table, the rest were all fiendish brats, and let's not forget their mothers! Hermione's agenda rules their lives, always one party after another, they attend every social event of the wizarding world.

And Rose is sick of it.

She slips off her terrible heeled shoes and quickly dips out the door, sliding onto his hands and knees. She's ditching this horrible lunch date with her family. She crawls along the far wall, knowing that her bright hair is a dead giveaway. Rose scrambles around chairs and waiter's legs. Just feet from the door she jumps to her feet and bursts into the open air of the alley, reveling in the bright sky and the fresh air.

FREEDOM.

'Rose Weasley, care to say a word about your cousin James's tryst with Minister Shacklebolt's daughter?'

'Is it true that your father has an illegitimate son?'

'Are you leaving this family lunch to meet with a secret lover?'

Oh, now there's a story she'll read.

'By golly,' She says, stopping in front of the reporter, putting her hands on her hips and acting simply dumbstruck. 'You've hit the kneazle on its nose.'

She elbows past the crowd of paparazzi and quickly draws her wand. She's getting out of here.

One, two, three – tug off the earth, passing through time and space, slight feeling of puking her guts out – and voila. She opens her eyes to a sight she's never seen before.

Well, she might be in a spot of trouble.

She's staring out at the sea, past some small cliffs, churning and frothing and dancing. There are cottages strewn about the hillside, small pastures and green fields speckled with flocks of sheep. She's standing on a cobblestone path next to a wall overgrown with moss, looking over the scene.

She isn't sure where she is. But she's pretty sure she's not leaving anytime soon.

Rose spins, laughing, loving the feel of her skirt in the chilly sea wind. That's when she spots the cottage on whose stone path she is spinning. And the figure in the window who appears to be laughing at her.

Rose straightens, patting down the skirt of her dress and calming herself. This is not how a Weasley acts.

Bugger all. This is exactly how a Weasely acts.

She continues her spinning.

'What in Merlin's name are you doing?' A voice calls out behind her and there's the sound of footsteps approaching.

She turns, sighing, knowing that her game is coming to an end. And she comes face to face with the last person she would expect to see.

'Malfoy – Scorpius – Malfoy –' She struggles, rather unsure of how to address him. It's been a while since she's seen him, and it wasn't like they were the best of friends at Hogwarts. If it wasn't for her father's dislike of the Malfoys and Al's strange friendship with the boy, she tells herself that she probably wouldn't have bothered with him at all. But she's always bothered with him. It's the shock blonde hair and the sculpted-from-pure-marble face that makes him different. She can't say that he hasn't always interested her.

'That's what they call me.' He chuckles, stopping a few feet from her, shoving his hands in his pockets. 'Hello, Weasley, Rose Weasley.'

'What are you doing here?' She asks, properly dumbfounded.

He shrugs. 'I live here. What are you doing here?'

'I – I wanted to get away. I don't even know where here is.'

'Belmoth.' He says and she can't say that she could place that on a map. 'Little wizarding village on the coast. Al's visited.'

'Al!' Rose cries, remembering a picture of this place that her cousin had in his bedroom. 'I've seen a picture of this view!' She spins back around to take in the scene. Everything is just as it is on Al's wall. 'It's beautiful.'

'Why do you think I'm here?' Scorius responds, stepping up to the mossy wall, running his fingers along the damp stones. 'It's the perfect escape.'

She's breathless. It is.

'Want to come in for a spot of tea?' He asks, turning to his small cottage.

Or for eternity?

'Yes please.' She says, following after him slowly, still watching the sea. 'You don't seem particularly surprised at my appearing on your doorstep.'

'I get drop-ins all the time.' He holds the door for her. 'Usually my old school mates. You're a bit of an oddity. Is there any reason why you were dancing in my yard?

'I was at lunch, but my family is wild and I'm just fed up with them so I left. And came here.' She sees his brows raise questioningly. The story doesn't really make sense in her mind either. 'Fred was launching peas, everyone was shouting, mum's got every day of the holidays planned out and I'm just sick and tired of being a Weasley!'

'Sounds a bit like my family,' Scorpius says, disappearing into the recesses of his home. It's decorated for Christmas, ornaments, garlands, and a tree to boot. 'Sans peas though. So many Ministry functions and board luncheons and people to see – so little time. Hence my hide out. I've promised my mother I'll be there for her ball, but I'm perfectly content to spend my Christmas here, shut away, by myself.'

'It's a lovely place.' Rose says, enchanted by the wallpaper and natural trim. She's never seen a more beautiful home, and her parents had spent their fame money on one fancy house.

'I considered only using it for stressful times, but I've been living here permanently for nearly a year now.' Scorpius reappears with two cups of tea and a tray of biscuits.

'Well, I'd say it's the perfect place for a retreat.' Rose sighs, standing near the window to watch the sea and the fields sway. She can't help herself and her mind wanders back to LaMarillon, where her mother is probably beginning to wonder where she's disappeared off to. There'll be a big commotion, that's what her family is good for. Uncle Harry will immediately think the worst, her father will question everyone in the restaurant, her aunts will fuss –Fleur will faint; Ginny will threaten the waiters; Angelina and Audrey will soothe their respective husbands, each man going off on a conspiratorial rant, Fred about Van Hoozen, his pranking nemesis (apparently the Norwegian trickster was after a young Weasley bride in order to get into the Wheezes company), and Percy about Rose's turn to the Bulgarian government after she was denied employment at the Department of the Minister for Magic (he was adamant she was severely offended – what he didn't know is that she went to Kingsley and asked him to dispose her application) – and of course her cousins will egg all of them on until they're near hysteria.

Rose moves her fingers to her temples, trying to press the image right out of her mind.

'Stay here.'

'What?' She asks, she can hardly hear him over the craze of her family. She wouldn't believe him anyways.

'Stay here.' Scorpius repeats. 'For the night I mean. You can have Al's room. You can experience Christmas Eve's Eve in Belmoth, then go home tomorrow to your family. It's really lovely here this time of year.'

It's a good thing she hasn't taken her tea yet. His lovely china cup would have shattered on the floor.

'Yes.' She gasps out. 'Yes – thank you – yes!'

'Follow me,' He gestures to the stairs. 'Al's room is on the left, bathroom's on the right and I'm at the end. I'll try to find you something to wear that isn't a fancy dress.'

Rose can barely contain her excitement when he shows her the room, bounding up on the bed and leaning against the window frame to watch the sea froth. He disappears from the door to find her some clothes and she glances around at the floral wallpaper and light yellow checkered bedding.

'This is Al's room?' She laughs when Scorpius returns.

'It's a guestroom.' He smiles. 'Al isn't picky. I found some smaller clothes that I don't fit into. Clean, I promise.'

There's a plaid, flannel shirt that is warm and comfortable and with a swish of her wand the jeans he's brought her are fitted to her shape. She pulls her hair down and wipes off the makeup she'd been wearing, the au natural suits her better.

'You don't have a box of ladies clothing that conquests have left here over time?' She asks, admiring her wandiwork in the mirror. He stands beside her, laughing.

'I don't bring women here. This is a place of escape, remember?' He turns and heads out of the room, back to the kitchen.

'So I'm your first?' Rose asks, trailing after him.

He glances at her over his shoulder, still chuckling. 'Sure.'

'I'll have to leave you that dress.' She jokes. 'Merlin knows I hate it.'

They drink their tea and talk about nothing important, just as Rose likes it, then Scorpius hauls out his last box of decorations. They run garlands up the bannisters and hang lights around the door frames. Rose teases him that he hadn't thought to get some mistletoe – the front door would have been a funny place to hang it, in case you ever had people come knocking. He reminds her that he hadn't been expecting company and they both have a laugh.

When it's getting close to dinner Scorpius pulls a salad from his fridge.

'There's a potluck dinner down at the local pub for the village.' He tells her. 'Those were my dinner plans, nothing too fancy.'

'I don't have anything to bring…' She says sadly.

He goes over to the tree and pulls off an ornament, a little glass angel. 'There's a big tree at the pub and all of the children bring a decoration for it. That can be your contribution.'

'I am not a children.' She replies, sticking her nose up at him. She takes the angel though, cradling it in her palm.

'It's nippy out,' He says, digging around in his front closet. 'But I probably have enough winter gear for the two of us.'

So she teases him about his use of the word nippy.

And he teases her about her tiny feet as she pulls on four pairs of socks to fit into his smallest winter shoes.

And she teases him about his large hands as he fumbles with the broken zipper on her jacket.

And he teases her about tripping over the front step because she can't see where she's going with two scarves tied up around her head.

And altogether there's a lot of teasing. But it's better than the alternative, which is stone-cold silence and severe awkwardness. Rose decides that she likes this young, happy hermit and plans to visit him in the future. Which may be tomorrow, depending on the crazy level of her family when she gets home.

It's hard to skip in boots too big but Rose manages, swinging her arms and laughing as Scorpius keeps up with her with his long strides. They walk though pastures and along cobbled streets. Scorpius introduces her to Hank, an older man who tends sheep, and Jory, his teenaged son, and Janice, the innkeeper, and Carter, the potioneer, and so many others that by the time they reach the pub, Rose is certain that she's met the entire village.

Inside, there are long tables laden with so much food that it would make Grandma Molly cry. There's a small fiddler band playing in the corner next to a massive Christmas tree, surrounded by children. Despite this, there's a bar running and everyone's got drinks.

Scorpius goes to pass off his salad and Rose stands in front of the tree with the children, holding his angel close.

'Where are you going to put it?' He asks, coming up behind her.

'Somewhere tall, so everyone can see it.' She says, looking straight to the top. 'Are you going to get it back? It's so beautiful.'

'I'll get it back.' He says, putting his arms around her waist and giving her a boost. She shrieks with laughter, surprised, and places the ornament on a high up branch that she never could have reached by herself.

The children all want a turn then, and Rose and Scorpius give them a hand with all of their ornaments before finding a seat between Hank and Janice and eating to their heart's content.

'This is really nice.' Rose tells him when they're finished eating and started drinking, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. She doesn't want him to think her ungrateful. He squeezes back.

'I'm glad you got to have this break.' He says, smiling so sweetly it makes her heart flip. He's really happy here.

'Scorpius!' An elderly woman who is rather large around the middle plunks herself into a spare seat at their table, drink in hand. 'It's so nice to see you with a girl. Janice and I were beginning to think you'd come to Belmoth to keep your strange relationship with that Ally fellow a secret from your families.'

'Ally – Al?' Rose laughs at Scorpius's shocked face. 'That's my cousin.'

'Well, you're far prettier than that boy. He didn't look like he'd ever seen a brush in his life!' The woman scoffs, taking a drink.

'You know I'd choose you over the pair of them, Margery.' Scorpius says, recovering from his shock. He leans over to hug the woman before extending his hand to Rose. 'What do you say to a dance?'

She dances with him, and then with Jory, then Carter and an older man she'd never met, then back with Scorpius they do some kind of jig, then Hank, and another man, and Scorpius again. The band breaks to drink some and then she dances with the fiddler, then the violinist. She dances with the old men and the children and everyone in between, including Margery who insists on leading. Then back to Scorpius. Always back to Scorpius.

And of course they were drinking too.

Rose never wanted to leave. Not just the bar, but the village, Scorpius' cottage. She didn't want to go back to her loud, crazy, raucous family. She wanted this escape to be permanent. Hell, she might take after Scorpius and move to the coast. Maybe Belmoth. It seemed nice enough. Especially that little cottage on
the hill with the nice wallpaper and handsome man–

'What are you laughing for, Scorp?' She asks as he interrupts her rambling. Scorpius had become too hard to say, so she'd shortened it.

'You could live there, in that little cottage on the hill with the nice wallpaper. I'm sure that the handsome man would let you, love.' He'd gone from Rose to Rosie to love.

'Do you think that the handsome man likes me, love?' She asks. Love was easier to say than Scorp.

'We can't both be love.' He says and they dissolve into laughter.

She lets him commandeer her for the next three songs, but it's getting late and he doesn't want to have to carry her up the hill so they leave. And, boy, does that ever take a while with the amount of socks and zippers and scarves she's got.

Finally they make it up the hill (which hadn't seemed so steep when they'd walked down), stopping every once in a while to watch the great silver moon light up the sea. At the front walk Rose stops him, turning so he's behind her, and draws his arms around her, huddling against his form. She's not cold, but that's her excuse. Scorpius rests his head on top of her and hums a song from their night of dancing.

This morning she wasn't here. She was somewhere terrible and loud and this is… perfection.

Rose trips over the door step on her way in, taking Scorpius down with her. She laughs, sprawled on top of him in the front hall.

'You should have invested in that mistletoe after all.' She says, brain addled by the good food and good drink and good time and she doesn't consider the awkward repercussions of what she's just said. She pushes off of his chest, stumbling around in her too-big boots, trying to remove them. Scorpius helps her, smiling all the while.

'Where's my bed again?' She asks, trying not to yawn too noticeably.

'I'll show you.' Scorpius says, letting her lean on him all the way up the stairs.

Upon spotting the bed she pulls off her jeans and crawls on top in her underwear and flannel shirt. Scorpius lifts the comforter to help her in, then piles on several blankets to keep her warm.

'Would you really choose – aahh – Margery over me?' Rose asks as she curls up, yawning loudly.

'I'd choose you, Rose.' He whispers against her temple as he presses a sweet kiss there and she wants to have the energy to kiss him properly but her limbs are lead. 'Every time.'

ooooo

Rose wakes the next morning to a slight ache in her head, but there's water by her bed and breakfast smells coming from the kitchen so she really can't complain.

She finds her jeans folded neatly on the dresser and gives a shot at cleaning up her face and hair. It's only Scorpius, she tells herself as she tries to cover up her terrible bedhead and baggy eyes. The thought only makes it worse.

'Good morning.' He greets when her nose leads her to him. 'I must apologise, I only get to try out cooking my cooking when there are guests around. Usually it's just cereal.'

'It all smells lovely.' She tells him, helping with the cups and cutlery. They settle into toast and eggs and bacon and all thing delicious.

He brings out the Prophet for her to have a good look, his brow raised questioningly the whole time.

Rose Weasley, Secret Lover?

"By golly," A shocked Rose Weasley says, caught sneaking out of a lunch with her extended family. "You've hit the kneazle on its nose."

Rose laughs. 'Well, I didn't expect them to print that! I guess this makes you my secret lover.'

She doesn't let on how she doesn't mind the idea.

He doesn't bring up the fact that she's leaving and she wonders if there's a chance he's forgotten. She'd rather not go back. But she has to, eventually.

'So…' She bites her lip as she clears the dishes. 'Do you have a phone? I should probably call first.'

He's got one. It's really old school, attached to the wall, with a cord and everything. But it works when she brings it to her ear and taps in the numbers.

'Rose–' Scorpius starts. 'I – well, it was nice having you. You're welcome any time.'

'Thank you.' She says, hardly listening to the phone dial. She looks up at him, begging him to ask her to stay indefinitely. 'Scorpius–'

Someone picks up on the other end.

'Hello?' Rose says, cursing the timing.

'Rose? Rose! Where are you? We're all so worried about you! We thought you'd been kidnapped and then we saw the papers – you know that we had dinner planned with the Thomas family last night. Their oldest son – you know Kenneth, don't you? Anyways, he was incredibly distraught over the whole thing. I've always said he's got a fancy for you.' – Fuck. Always with the dinners and planning and future talk. She does not want to listen to this right now. Rose brings the receiver to the wall with a hearty crack, hoping that her mother will get the idea. Scorpius jumps, but the phone is fine. 'And your father's been out all night at the office, sending out aurors to find you. Goodness, darling, where are you? Are you with anyone?'

'I'm with Scorpius Malfoy, mother, and he's making violent, passionate love to me!' She shouts into the mouthpiece, clutching it with two hands. She can't decide if she wants it to be the truth or if she just wants to make her family combust. Both would be preferable.

She's met with silence on both ends. The phone crackles awkwardly and Scorpius is stiff as a board beside her.

'What!? Rose–'

'You get your sorry arse back here young lady–'

'Scorpius Malfoy?'

'We're going to send you to a convent, you'll never see that boy ag–'

'Run Rosie, Run!'

Voices are pouring over each other out of the phone into the kitchen.

'It was on speaker.' Rose whispers fearfully to her silent companion, glancing up at him.

'You shouted that pretty loud.' He whispers back, staring at her with a wide-eyed expression. She turns her attention to the phone.

'Rose, if you come home now…' Her mother's voice is shaky and the voices have calmed down. 'I – we'll go straight down to the Prophet and Witch Weekly and... and remove that slanderous story about you and your secret lover.'

'Mother–' Rose tries to get a word in, slumping against the wall. Talking to her family is like talking to stone. Scorpius leans closer to share the phone, standing hip to hip, chest to chest.

'And Kenneth Thomas promised me a makeup dinner – you could go to LaMarillon tonight. We'll dress you up nice–'

'Mother, I–' Rose tries again.

'He's a very promising young man, you know. And Percy tells me you're a shoe in for the Ministry, just go talk to Kingsley. The pair of you could do so well together.'

'Mother, I don't want–' Rose speaks, but this time the words die on her tongue. Scorpius places a hand on her waist and she can hardly breathe. She peeks up at him, finding his eyes closed and his forehead leaning against the wall near her head.

'Kenneth and Rose Thomas, I think it sounds rather nice.'

'I don't want that.' She says firmly. She watches Scorpius' eyes open slowly. He turns his head towards her ever so slightly and she likes what she finds in his face.

'Rose, you're throwing away the chance of a lifetime!'

There's silence broken only by the crackle of the phone and their breathing, so close their exhales intertwine.

'She says you're throwing away the chance of a lifetime.' Scorpius repeats, voice low.

'I want you.' It comes out of her so soft, so quick, she fears she hasn't actually said it. But after a moment his lips part and his silver eyes darken with black pupils. They jump at each other at the same time, mouths and hands and bodies a hot jumble.

Rose leaves the phone for him to deal with, dropping it to the side so it bounces on its cord. Scorpius catches it and slams it against its box at the same time as he pushes her up against the wall, her legs already up around his waist and her fingers busy with the buttons on his shirt.

And maybe they make violent, passionate love.

On every surface in his cottage.

Twice.

She's sad to leave him later and he easily draws her back to him with a kiss that makes her blood run hot, but her family has no doubt turned on each other at this point and they could probably get it out of Al where they are. And she'd rather not have them burst in on her in the middle of sexy times with an ex-death eater's son.

Rose leaves him her dress, fingers crossed that she'll be the only woman to leave clothing there; and Scorpius gives her a basket of Margery's baked goods, fingers crossed that her family doesn't descend on him like a pack of wolves.

On Christmas day an owl comes with for a gift for her at the Burrow and of course her family is in uproar, but there's a little glass angel inside and Rose can't keep herself from grinning like a loon all day, rereading the note attached. The first of many. Followed by a pair of very hopeful XOs. They hadn't said anything about Christmas presents, but Rose figures that a well-fitting and dangerously cut dress for the Malfoy Christmas Ball would do for him.

But really, it's just she and he who do well for each other.

A/n: Happy Valentine's Day!