Trying to convince a child to go to sleep was a difficult task. Rose had faced N.E.W.T exams, trials for Death Eaters, coaxing her Father out of his hiding spot after spotting a spider, and many other trials that left her wanting to pull out her hair. None of those tasks matched up to the challenge of trying to tell a kid it was better to sleep than to stay up late at night.
Whenever Victoire and Teddy needed a night out, Rose was usually their first call to babysit. Getting two-year-old Remus Jr. (who was fondly referred to as Jr.) to sleep was like wrangling her wild curls into a professional bun. The one trick that coaxed Jr. into bed was the enticing promise of stories. With each tale of mountain trolls and rampaging bowtruckles, Jr. would snuggle soundly into his bed. His little eyelids fluttered shut and by the end of the story he was passed out.
The innocent stories were a great manipulation tool to get Jr. to bed. It calmed him down and offered him the promise of peace. Too bad that promise was easily broken.
Rose learned quickly that peace could not be found at night. The dark. The silence. The calm. All great ingredients for peace when separate. When added together they were the perfect recipe for nightmares.
When Al managed to calm her down, he told her fond memories of treasured times with Hugo. An attempt to get her to focus on the good times and forget the bad ones currently going on. The stories didn't help much and Rose feigned sleep to get Al to disappear from the fire.
She needed to be alone.
For the first time since her arrival, Rose lay in her bedroom. The 'peace' of the night was a myth. Her overactive imagination conjured up images of Hugo being tortured. Blood trickling down his face. Deafening screams echoed his pain. Pleas begging to stop the torture. Worst of all laughter.
Laughter from Pious' followers as they stole her brother's magic. Laughter as they joked about capturing a Granger-Weasley. Laughter as they stole away a part of her brother. Cruel, cruel laughter.
Rose groaned and rolled over, snuggling further into the blankets. She'd been in bed for what, an hour? Two? Whatever it was there was no way she was getting any sleep.
She didn't deserve sleep. It was her fault after all. She should have been there to protect Hugo. She should be there now to comfort him. No doubt he was in the hospital recovering from his injuries. Her parents were probably there. The rest of her family too. Everyone but her.
She desperately wanted to be at his side. Hugo always protected her and she'd failed to return the favor. She couldn't even sit at his bedside and offer to tell him jokes to cheer him up. Not that she was great with jokes. He was always the funnier sibling. Still, she should have been there.
After Malfoy revealed that Hugo was the latest extraction victim she'd become hysterical. Al's failed attempts at stories did nothing. Malfoy eventually got Rose upstairs to bed and sat with her as she cried. He rubbed soothing circles on her back and provided a handkerchief to wipe her tears.
When she'd stopped crying, he insisted that she needed rest. He refused to leave until Rose pretended to be asleep once again. As soon as he was gone, she'd been plagued with the nightmares of Hugo. They ran on repeat. Never stopping. Always going.
She couldn't stand to close her eyes for another minute. Silently to not wake up Malfoy in the next room, Rose crept out to the hall and down to the office. The office was just as she'd left it. In other words, it was a chaotic mess.
A draft chilled the room, causing goosebumps to pop up on her arms. She accioed down her favorite pair of pink wool socks and a blanket. Wrapping herself in the garments, Rose welcomed the warmth.
Snuggling into the chair, she reached for the files on Melanie. With the news of Hugo announced, they didn't get a chance to discuss his interview with Melanie. She knew Malfoy had his own notes from the visit. He left them somewhere on her desk. She just needed to find them.
Rose dug around, shuffling through dozens of papers before finding his notes under an empty jar of ink.
His notes were extensive, covering 10 pages (back and front). The writing was slanted and rushed like Malfoy couldn't fit the information on the page fast enough.
When she took notes, her hands were never able to keep up with the thoughts tumbling out of her brain. Letters often clashed with others, appearing smushed and disorganized. Most people couldn't read Rose's handwriting. By the looks of it, people probably struggled with Malfoy's too. Lucky for her, Malfoy's handwriting was easily legible.
During school, one of Rose's favorite studying habits was rewriting her notes. The repetition helped the information stick in her mind and discover key items she'd originally missed. Finding that a good place to start, she grabbed a fresh roll of parchment and began copying Malfoy's notes.
Seconds melted into minutes. Rose's hand began to cramp. She ignored the nuisance pain and pushed on until the first two pages were complete.
Rose admired her work, only stopping when she noticed a few wet marks scattered on the parchment. She lifted the parchment, checking her desk for any liquid that could have caused this. Finding none, she set the document down to examine it again. Another wet mark appeared, splashing the freshly set ink, causing the ink to bleed into the nearby words.
Lifting her hand, Rose touched her cheek, surprised to find them stained with unsuspecting tears. Rose didn't cry often. When she did it was usually because a book ripped at her heartstrings or something happened with her family. Earlier, when Malfoy broke the news, she thought she'd emptied her tear ducts. Clearly, that was not the case.
More tears rolled down her cheeks, falling onto the parchment. She let them. Once they started there was no way to stop them.
Crying made Rose feel weak. It was ridiculous. Crying didn't make you weak. Crying allowed you to feel. Even knowing that she couldn't help but feel silly for shedding tears. She was always taught to be strong and not let her emotions show. She needed to set an example for her younger brother and cousins. Act as a role model. Never let them see her down. Be flawless. Be ideal. Be perfect.
Crying was far from perfect. It made her vulnerable. It made her weak and she hated herself even more for allowing that.
Seeing as the parchment was ruined with her tears and running ink, it was useless to her. As she reached for fresh parchment, the blanket caught against the chair. Rose tugged at it attempting to free the blanket.
In her wild effort to untangle the blanket, her elbow collided with the lit candle on the corner of the desk. It all happened in slow motion. The candle tumbled toward the stack of files on the desk. The flame seemed to flicker brighter, as it neared the irreplaceable files. Having no time to reach her wand, Rose instinctively grabbed the candle with her hand.
She screamed as the burning wax seared into the palm of her hand. The candle dropped to the floor, the flame going out with it.
Rose glared vindictively at the candle. That did nothing to stop the burning pain in her hand. The wax, now dry, stuck to her hand. She picked it away, horrified to see the angry red flesh staring back at her. At least it wasn't blood. Not that this was much better.
The office door swung open and Malfoy somersaulted in. He came up in a defensive stance, his wand out as he surveyed the room for signs of danger.
His hair was disheveled, sticking up in random directions. He wore an old quidditch jersey from when they were in school. The green and silver jersey clashed horribly with the Chudley Cannon pajama bottoms (a Christmas gift from James).
When his eyes landed on Rose, he asked, "Where's the threat?"
"What are you talking about? There's no threat. Everything is fine."
"I heard a scream."
"I might have yelled slightly," Rose admitted sheepishly.
At her confession, Malfoy relaxed his stance and strolled over to the desk. He observed the area silently. His eyes strayed to the candle on the floor and the hand Rose was cradling.
He raised a brow and Rose could see he desperately wanted to make fun of her. One look at her puffy eyes and he backed down, remaining silent. Which was probably a good thing. It saved her from having to hex him and ruin their fragile agreement.
"I knocked the candle over and burned my hand." Rose offered as an explanation. "I wasn't thinking straight and I grabbed the candle. The wax burned my hand and I overreacted. It was stupid. I'm fine." She held out her hand, as evidence. Embarrassment colored her cheeks. "I didn't mean to wake you up. You should go back to bed."
"Let me see," Malfoy demanded. Moving closer to the desk, he gestured for her hand.
Rose ducked away, "It's fine, Malfoy. I can take care of myself."
"As I recall you didn't have to go through weeks of intense healer training. Let me see your hand. I can fix it."
"I am perfectly cable of mending my hand." Rose lied through her teeth. There was no way she could stomach looking at her hand, much less fixing it. Not that she was going to back down and let Malfoy help her, "Need I remind you that I was the one that helped Al study when he went through that same training? I can manage a simple healing charm."
"Will you just stop being so bloody stubborn and show me your hand."
Rose swallowed and regretfully allowed him to take her hand. Alright, so it took very little convincing for her to cave. The thought of looking at the burn again turned her stomach upside down. It was better to let Malfoy handle the dirty work.
He maneuvered around the desk, taking a seat on the edge, as he looked over the wounds. She disliked the idea of him healing her, but realistically this was the best option. Rose was right-handed and trying to do magic with the non-dominant hand was disastrous. Add that on top of not being great at healing charms and Rose was sure to worsen her injury.
"This is going to sting a little bit," Malfoy warned. He held her hand firmly in place.
Rose tensed in anticipation and did her best to remain unmoving. Malfoy already saw her at her weakest point earlier today. He didn't need to see her low pain tolerance as well.
A burst of icy chills ran through her hand. It felt as if she'd shoved her entire hand in a bucket of ice water. The stings numbed her palm, making her at least forget about the burning sensation for the time being. After a few more seconds the charm wore off. The palm of her hand was a shiny pink. It no longer held burn marks and looked as good as new.
"Thank you." Rose said, "Looks like those healer lessons paid off."
"My ex-girlfriend worked at St. Mungo's. When we started doing healing lessons, she offered to help. Turns out she knew what she was doing." Malfoy puffed his chest, "I held the highest marks in our group."
"Careful there, Ferret. You're starting to sound cocky."
"Says the witch that used to go around the library, waving her scores in my face."
Rose cringed at the memories. On multiple occasions, she would flaunt her higher scores in Malfoy's face. She wanted to make sure he knew she'd bested him. She hadn't always done so in the most graceful of manners.
"I'll admit those weren't my brightest moments. I was a bit dramatic back then."
"That's an understatement. I remember one time you charmed fireworks to follow you around the library the entire time I was there."
"I was particularly proud of that essay. I stayed up for three straight nights to finish it and received 109%."
"You still remember your score?"
"Like I said, I was proud of that essay."
Rose would not admit she kept the essay. It held a spot in a scrapbook. It wasn't a normal scrapbook meant for pictures. It was one dedicated to all her academic achievements. Her O.W.Ls and N.E.W.T scores were there. Her best essays and exam scores. Awards she received for top marks. The letter informing her she was selected as Head Girl. All of it was there.
Her Mum made it for her as a graduation present and Rose treasured it. Being able to look back on her hard work, reminded her of what she was capable of. She didn't open the scrapbook often. When she did it was to boost her confidence and offer encouragement. It was currently upstairs in her chest. She hadn't opened it since arriving at the safe house. It was nice knowing it was there if she needed it.
An awkward silence fell between the two wizards. Malfoy remained leaning on the edge of her desk. His eyebrows were drawn in as if contemplating what to say to her.
The silence began to make her fidgety. Rose reached for her work, needing to have something in her hands to keep her mind from racing. The burn momentarily distracted her from the night's earlier distress. Now that it was healed the unanswered questions began to swarm.
Was Hugo awake? How long was he missing before someone found him? Was he in pain? Did they torture him? Did he have scars like some of the other victims?
"What are you even doing down here?" He finally asked, interrupting Rose's downward spiral. "Al said you were asleep when he left."
"I couldn't sleep. There's work to be done."
"Nothing you can't do in the morning." He reached for her arm, "Come on, let's get you to bed."
Rose jerked away from his touch, "You think I can sleep right now? My brother was just kidnapped and tortured. Sleeping is the last thing on my mind."
"Which is why you shouldn't be doing work."
"It's helping me take my mind off things."
"Weasley, you're in no state to work," Malfoy reasoned, "You're unfocused right now. If you try and do work, you'll make mistakes which will only create more work for you when you've got to clean up the mess later."
Rose hated to admit it, but he was right. In a span of 10 minutes, she'd nearly burned a stack of files and left second-degree burns on her hands. There was no telling the amount of harm she could induce if she spent the remainder of the night trying to work.
This time when Malfoy reached for her elbow, Rose was too tired to jerk away. She let him gently guide her into the sitting room and to the armchair. He went back to the office for her blanket and brought her a cauldron cake from the kitchen.
Rose hugged her knees to her chest. Accepting his kindness, Rose took the treats, as Malfoy took a spot on the couch. Once he was comfortable, Rose asked the question she'd been gearing up to ask since he saved her from becoming an arsonist.
"Will you tell me what happened to Hugo?"
Malfoy dropped his head, "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Please."
Malfoy's eyes jumped to hers. If he was surprised by her use of the word please, he didn't show it.
"Weasley, you know better than anyone that families of the victim shouldn't know about the case details. You don't need to think about Hugo like that. You should hold on to the memories you already have of him. "
"Unfortunately I'm not at liberty for that. I'll need to review his case just like everyone else." Rose lost her appetite and set the unfinished cauldron cake on the coffee table. "Please, Malfoy. Not knowing is the worst part. My mind makes up scenarios. Each one is worse than the last. At least if I know I won't be forced to wonder. I can deal with the facts and cope with that."
Malfoy pursed his lips, studying her closely. Rose's first instinct was to squirm under his gaze. Battling down those instincts, she pushed her shoulders back and attempted to put on a confident front. It wasn't easy when her eyes were still puffy and a fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. She felt more like a fluffy bunny instead of the fierce lawyer she was trying so hard to be.
"It was early in the morning," Malfoy finally said. "Hugo was on his way to work at that Muggle shop that fixes those things they use for transportation."
"Cars," Rose added softly.
"Did your mother ever tell you it's rude to interrupt people when they're talking?"
Rose managed a small smile and gestured for him to continue.
"As I was saying," Malfoy joked. His tone became gentler as he continued. "Hugo was on his way to work at approximately 6:45 A.M. That's when he was ambushed. We don't have specific details yet. Hugo's still unconscious. Once he wakes up he'll be able to give us more."
Rose's eyes began to fill with tears again. She blinked them away, "He's still unconscious? How long has he been in the hospital?"
"About 29 hours. He was discovered by an elderly Muggle couple late last night. They were kind enough to bring him to the nearest hospital before the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes caught wind of it and managed to get him transferred to St. Mungo's."
"How long was he missing."
"Four days."
Rose choked on a sob. Four days?
The longest extraction victim was held for 22 hours. In the few hours, The Reform held on to their victims they put them through an immense amount of torture. The victims couldn't recall what had been done to them, which in reality was probably the scariest part. The only evidence they had of torture came from the examinations at St. Mungo's.
The hospital reports showed intense physical and mental torture. Crushed bones, jagged scars slashed cruelly across the body, and dismembered body parts. More than one victim was found missing a limb. Others were so shaken up that it took them months to even speak.
All of that was accomplished in less than 24 hours. Rose could only imagine what they'd managed to do to him in 96 hours.
The tears flowed more easily. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, hoping to calm down. "What are his injuries?"
"They are extensive, but the healers believe that with time he'll make a full recovery,"
Rose nodded numbly. She appreciated him leading off the sentence like that. No matter what he said next, she at least knew Hugo was going to be okay.
"Both of his femurs are broken. Even with Skel-A-Grow, he'll need therapy for a few months to regain full usage of his legs. He also shows signs of the cruciatus curse and has several cuts to his abdomen." Malfoy clasped his hands together, "The healers deduced that he's got a brain hemorrhage from blunt force trauma to the head. The muggle doctors attempted to put a stop to the bleeding in his brain before we were able to move him. The healers completely stopped the bleeding once he arrived at Mungo's."
"What else?"
Malfoy went on to describe the rest of Hugo's injuries. By the time he was done Rose was sick to her stomach. They mutilated his right foot so badly the healers were unable to save it. They were hoping to get him a replacement. If they couldn't he'd be walking with a cane for the rest of his life. The right side of his face was reportedly disfigured. Malfoy wasn't sure if that meant a few scars or if he was unrecognizable.
Through it all, Rose held back her tears. She wanted nothing more than to be sitting at his bedside. Instead, she was stuck here. When Malfoy finished, he excused himself to the kitchen, giving Rose the much-needed time to collect her thoughts and calm down.
By the time he returned a few minutes later, Rose was no longer on the verge of tears. He handed her a steaming mug and took his spot back on the couch.
"What is this?"
"Hot chocolate. My Mum used to make it for me when I had a bad day. Figured after everything you've gone through this evening you could use some."
She took a sip of the drink and immediately a calming effect washed over her. It brought back memories of sitting in the dorms at Hogwarts with Alice during the cold winter months. They would play games and talk about everything and anything.
"This is good."
Malfoy attempted to hide a smile behind his mug, "You sound surprised?"
"I just never pictured you as someone who knows their way around the kitchen."
"My Mum was a good cook. She taught me everything I know."
Rose rested her chin on top of her knees, "Do you miss her?"
Malfoy paused mid-sip. Rose thought he wasn't going to answer her. Not that she anticipated an answer. It was a deeply personal question, one she had no business asking. It was something that close friends discussed, not them. She didn't even know why she asked.
"More and more every day." He finally responded.
"I'm sorry. I only met your Mum a few times, but she seemed lovely."
"She was the best." He agreed.
Rose was at a loss on how to respond. As large as her family was, she'd never experienced a loss before. She was still fortunate enough to have both parents and grandparents in her life. She couldn't imagine the pain of not having her mother around.
Their conversation lolled and Rose thought about making an excuse to leave when Malfoy's next words paralyzed her. "I never thanked you for that day."
Rose froze and met his steady gaze. She knew immediately what day he was referring to. Until now, they'd held an unspoken agreement to never talk about it.
"It was no big deal." She waved him off, "Like I said it's great blackmail material."
He ignored her jab about blackmail. They both knew it wasn't true.
"It was a big deal to me."
Rose gulped and suddenly her memories were pulling her back to their graduation day.
Rose held a reel of parchment in her hands. The halls were deserted, as she strolled through them. Her voice echoed off the walls, while she read the parchment out loud. The graduation ceremony was in 3 hours and she needed to practice the speech she was about to give.
Rose didn't have a problem with public speaking. She rather enjoyed it. What had her practicing in the halls was the paralyzing thought that the speech wasn't good enough.
When Headmistress McGonagall approached her about giving a speech, Rose instantly said yes. This was her chance to summarize all Hogwarts meant to her and her classmates. She began working on the speech that very night.
That day was over a month ago and something about the speech still didn't seem right. After hours of revision and helpful advice from her classmates, Rose couldn't figure out how to fix it.
Alice insisted that it was great. Al promised her that it would be sensational. Even Mum said it would wow the crowd. Rose still wasn't convinced. There was always room for improvement and she was going to find it even if it killed her.
Her family attempted to coax Rose out for a meal. She refused. There would be time to celebrate at Gran's after the ceremony. Until then she was in practice mode.
The younger students left for home two days ago. The seventh-years remained at the castle in preparation for the ceremony. Families were arriving left and right. It should have brought life to the castle, but most of the families made dinner plans in Hogsmeade.
The silence of the castle was a nice change of pace compared to the last few days. The gossip train had been in overdrive since the news of Astoria Malfoy's death. Astoria Malfoy died the week before their Hogwarts graduation. She'd been sick for a long time and finally succumbed to her illness.
The entire castle knew about it. Whispers and gossip floated about the halls. Nobody had seen Malfoy since the final exams. Rumor was he went home to be with his family. Not that she could fault him. As much as she disliked the Slytherin she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
Al and the rest of her family attended the funeral. She might not have liked him, but her family treated Malfoy like he was one of them. He came to all their holidays and celebrations. He spent most of his summer at the Burrow or the Potter's. He was Al's best friend and Hugo's equal in Wizard's Chess. He helped Grandma Molly in the kitchen (Rose suspected he was more work than help) and talked quidditch with Louis for hours. Her family members adored him, much to her dismay.
It came as no surprise that her family would want to be there for him. Lily tried to convince Rose to go. Rose considered it but ultimately decided Malfoy wouldn't have wanted her there. He was grieving and her presence would only have infuriated him. She wanted to respect that. Given the circumstances, it was probably best to skip out and let him mourn in peace.
She continued roaming the halls, winding up at the steps of the Astronomy tower. It'd been ages since she'd been up the tower. The last time was when Dimitar stopped at the castle for a surprise visit after the Christmas holiday. They spent the night laughing under the stars and enjoying one another's company.
That was nearly five months ago. She hadn't seen him since and desperately missed him. He was out with her family right now. He begged Rose to sneak away from her responsibilities to see him before the ceremony. She wanted to. She really did, but she needed to be prepared to give the speech.
They would have plenty of time together in a few weeks when they'd be taking off on a summer road trip. They'd been planning it for months now. A whole summer exploring Europe. Her parents weren't exactly thrilled with the idea. Her father was especially opposed to the idea (his little girl off for the summer with some Krum fellow, the audacity!).
Rose ignored them. She was an adult, fully capable of making decisions. If she wanted to spend the summer traveling with her boyfriend, she would. It was going to be a nice break before Rose started her new position working as a Research Assistant in the Aurors Offices.
She was looking forward to the new position and hoped to be promoted in a few months. Rose's dream was to work as a lawyer, but she needed the necessary experience first. This was step one toward her goal.
Her breathing was labored, as she ascended the steps. She needed to do a few more laps around the Quidditch pitch. When Rose reached the top, she sucked in a big breath of air. Her lungs thanked her. The spring air carried a flowery scent in its breeze. The sun shined, casting a perfect light on the ceremony space below.
Hundreds of white chairs lined up by the black lake. A stage had been created for the event and Professors were currently attempting to add the finishing decorations. A white carpet was laid down on the aisle. Whenever a witch or wizard stepped on the carpet it would change colors to represent the respective's house colors.
McGonagall's voice echoed throughout the grounds as she barked orders at the other professors. They scurried about doing as she asked. Slowly the space was coming together.
In just a few hours Rose would be on that stage, giving her speech, and saying goodbye to her 2nd home. It was all so bittersweet.
Turning away from the mess below, Rose began reciting her speech.
"My fellow students as I stand before you today, I reflect on the last seven years we've spent here. In these seven years, we've ma-"
"I hope that's not your graduation speech. You'll put the audience to sleep within minutes."
Rose screamed, clutching at her terrified heart. She whirled around, surprised to see the blonde Ferret staring back at her.
He was sitting against the wall. A bottle of nearly empty firewhiskey sat in his hand. His eyes were red. From crying or alcohol, Rose couldn't tell. He wore his ever-annoying smirk, clearly satisfied that he managed to scare and insult her all in one sitting.
"What are you doing out here?"
"Enjoying the lovely weather we're having." Malfoy waved the bottle and laughed, "What does it look like?"
He took another swig of the drink and attempted to stand. He swayed and would have tumbled to the ground if Rose hadn't intervened.
She dropped the parchment to catch him. All his weight landed on her, sending her off balance. They both went crashing to the floor with a loud grunt. The bottle of firewhiskey broke on impact. Its sticky contents drenched the bottom of Rose's shorts and seeped into the parchment that held her graduation speech. Rose watched her hard work disappear in an instant.
Malfoy simply laughed and rolled over. "Ow."
A month of restless nights and tedious revision was all lost within seconds. She grabbed the soaked parchment, turning it over in dismay. It was completely ruined.
Rose had bits and pieces of the speech memorized, but not the whole thing. With the number of revisions and corrections she made daily, it was nearly impossible to memorize her work. What was she going to do now?
Rose was all prepared to scream at Malfoy. One look at the pathetic boy convinced her otherwise. He was hurting. As angry as she was, she knew she couldn't take it out on him. It was only a graduation speech. Right now, she needed to get Malfoy sobered up and ready to walk the stage.
Rose stood up, mindful of the glass scattered around them. She reached down to help him up. He gripped her hand and slowly she managed to pull him to his feet. A warm liquid spread on her hand. Rose knew what it was before she looked. Blood.
Instantly she felt like passing out. The blood oozed out of Malfoy's hand in unclotted waves. He must have cut himself when the bottle broke.
"Your hand," She muttered helplessly, as she wiped the blood away on the stones.
Malfoy lifted it and looked shocked to find it full of blood, "Oops."
Rose was not gifted with healing charms. Seeing as she usually passed out in the presence of blood, she never bothered to learn many healing spells. She knew the basics and enough to fix the mess on Malfoy's hand.
Swallowing down the vomit, Rose reached for his hand. She refused to look directly at it and blindly guided her wand to his palm. Before she could cast the spell, he jerked his hand away. The movement caused him to stumble backward.
Rose grabbed him, this time wrapping an arm around his waist, so he wouldn't fall. He leaned into her, as she guided them down the steps. If he wasn't going to let her fix his hand, she was at least going to get him inside.
"Are you going to let me fix your hand?" Rose asked in a huff. Malfoy was heavier than he looked.
"Why would I do that? You'll probably try to poison me."
"How could I poison you with my wand?"
Malfoy eyed her suspiciously, "You're smart. I wouldn't put it past you to figure it out."
"You must be drunk. I think you almost just complimented me."
"I'm not that drunk," He insisted as he missed the last step and promptly fell to the ground.
Fortunately, Rose managed to keep herself upright. "Completely sober." She muttered, before casting a levitating charm. There was no way she could carry him any longer. Maybe she should have taken Dimitar's offer to teach her some weight-lifting tips. She could have used it right now.
Malfoy rose a few inches off the ground. He gasped in amazement, "I'm flying."
What did she do to deserve this punishment?
Malfoy's arms flapped wildly, as he attempted to impersonate a bird.
While he was distracted by his new superpower, Rose reached for his injured hand and forced herself to swallow down the nausea, as she fixed it. He laughed in delight, as the charm worked its magic to stop the bleeding and clear up his wounds.
"Wow. The poison worked."
"Wonderful, isn't it?" She did not have the patience to deal with the intoxicated.
Her first instinct was to take him to the potion storage closet and whip up a sobering potion. Since it was the end of term Professor Chadswick had emptied the cupboard and Rose didn't have enough supplies of her own to make a suitable potion.
Without a potion, the only way she could think to sober him up was through food and water. Lots and lots of water.
Malfoy began singing as Rose led them down to the kitchens. When she reached the portrait of fruit, she tickled the pear to let them inside. Instantly, they were surrounded by house-elves offering them food.
Rose lowered Malfoy to his feet. He swayed slightly and reached for the counter to settle himself.
"Why don't you take a seat?" Rose suggested.
She conjured him a stool and guided him to sit down. He did so without much of an argument. The little journey to the kitchen did not reflect well on him. He was looking a little green.
A house-elf brought him a cup of water and a large plate piled high with food. Carbs and hydration were the keys to getting Malfoy back to his cocky self. She forced him to drink the water, before getting him another.
The house-elves swarmed them, offering to get them more food, polish their shoes, and clean their dorms. Rose kindly thanked them and gathered up the food and water in her arms, before ushering Malfoy out the door. She couldn't get out of there fast enough.
Malfoy followed along with Rose, as she led them to the nearest bay window. She set the food and water down, motioning for him to eat.
Malfoy wrinkled his nose at the plate of food, "That smells gross."
"You should eat something or at the very least drink more water."
"I don't need any of that."
"I beg to differ. You're supposed to be walking across that stage in a few hours and you can barely stand on your feet."
To prove her point, Rose tapped Malfoy's shoulder. He waddled backward, his arms wailing in an attempt to balance him. He righted himself, promptly sat down, and motioned for Rose to give him the glass.
Rose handed him the cup, making sure he didn't drop it, and encouraged him to drink. He obliged by taking small sips. Without prompting he reached for the cheese and started eating.
They sat in silence as Malfoy finished the plate and drink. When the plate no longer held any food and the cup was dry, Rose charmed them to fly back to the kitchen.
"You feeling better?"
Malfoy nodded and brought his knees to his chest. He appeared to be slightly better. His eyes lost their red tint and managed to stay focused. Rose took this as a good sign that he was slowly beginning to sober up. Hopefully, he'd be fine enough to clean himself up and get across that stage.
"Can I get you anything?"
"I don't need your pity, Weasley." His words came out slightly slurred.
She forced herself to chuckle, "I'd never pity you."
"What do you call this then?"
"I'd call it the perfect opportunity for blackmail."
For the first time since they encountered each other at the top of the Astronomy Tower, Malfoy met her gaze. Rose was blindsided by the fury radiating in his gaze.
He made to move. She should have let him. They weren't friends. What did she care if he was upset? Something in her reached out to him.
She grabbed his wrist before he could storm off, "Wait, I'm sorry. That was a terrible joke. I'd never blackmail you about this."
Malfoy stopped and eyed her cautiously, "Forgive me if I have little faith in you to not be heartless."
He was baiting her. On any other day, it would have worked. Not today. Today she was determined to help him. Only Merlin knew why.
"If you want to fight with me, by all means, I'm ready to fight. I've got a feeling that's the last thing you want to do." Rose brushed a loose strand of hair from her eyes. When he didn't say anything she met his gaze straight on. "I want you to know that I'm sorry about your Mum."
Malfoy turned away from her, fixing his stare firmly on the window. She took it as a good sign that he hadn't hexed her or runoff. Rose wasn't certain what she was doing. She was terrible at comforting people, let alone Malfoy. As terrible as she was, Rose couldn't leave him like this. He needed someone, even if that someone was her.
Rose followed his lead and stared out the window.
From there they got an excellent view of the quidditch pitch where it appeared a friendly game was being played. If Rose had to guess, she assumed it was her family out there. They were quidditch fanatics and never let an opportunity pass to showcase their competitive nature. No doubt they were taking advantage of the state-of-the-art quidditch facilities while they waited for the ceremony. She was fairly positive one or more of her cousins were going to show up with mud on their faces or rips in their robes.
"I thought she would make it to graduation," Malfoy said quietly.
Rose remained silent, sensing there was more to be said.
"She's always been sick. Even when I was a kid a small cold would put her on bed rest for weeks. Last year when the healers officially diagnosed her, they said she had a month to live. I prepared for the worst. A month came and went and Mum was still kicking. Six months passed and I thought she was going to defy the odds. She told me not to get my hopes up. She knew she was dying. Call it wishful thinking on my part but I hoped anyway." Malfoy paused and took a shaky breath. "Then she collapsed last week and I knew she wasn't going to make it to my graduation." He turned away from the window and looked at Rose. "I really wanted her to be here today."
Against her better judgment, Rose reached for him, pulling him into her arms. He wrapped his arms around her and let his head fall on her shoulders, as he shook with sobs.
She held his head and rubbed his back, hoping this provided him with some comfort. At this moment her heart absolutely broke for him. Rose didn't know what it was like to lose someone close to you. She couldn't even fathom the pain he was going through.
Rose didn't say anything. What words could she offer to ease the hurt? No words could fix the pain raging inside him.
She let him cry. She allowed him to grieve. She allowed him to feel.
It was something neither of them would ever forget.