Rating/Warnings: PG, none
Word count: 294
Characters: Rose/Scorpius, Albus and James
Summary: Every rose has a thorn.
I sit in the corner with Albus. A chess set sits in front of us, but we play half-heartedly—just enough to keep the masses from noticing us. Better than a Muffliato, some days, or even Hugo’s books. Not that anyone is really going to notice us tonight, not with the flurry caused by Rosie’s appearance with her new and apparently serious—engagement-serious—beau.
“How long do you think it’ll last?” Al asks as he absently moves a pawn. Like me, he’s mastered the ability to appear to be playing chess while watching the chaos instead. “I mean, he’s so different than her.”
That is true. Rose is quiet, studious, and overall, sweet and kind. Scorpius is cold, remote, and more prickly than a porcupine in Molly’s knitting basket. A virtual scorpion, a viper, a poisonous little creature—things they’d described him as variously over the years.
“I dunno, Al,” I tell him honestly. “I mean, look at them. It’s almost gag worthy, the way she hangs off him and he actually seems to possess some iota of caring.” Lazy movement of bishop across the board. I know it’ll be blocked, but it’s worth a try. “And you know Rosie, she won’t back down from the challenge.”
Al sighs and fidgets with his glasses, one of his small tells that I’ll never let him know he has. “Still. You don’t think it’s doomed?”
I have to give him this—he is truly concerned about our Rose. We all are. But I of all people know, Rose can take care of herself. I break the rules to turn and look at the happy if defensive couple. “Nah. It’ll last. After all, every rose has a thorn, right? Scorpius just happens to be our Rose’s thorn.”
A/N: Written for dyno_drabbles. I'm not happy with this drabble, but I'm posting it anyway. It's not precisely what I imagined but it's what my tiredness put out. So yeah. It sucks, so let's move on.