Gelsey (gelsey) wrote,

Fic: Bouquet of Roses, V. Red (Rose/Scorpius, PG-13)

Title: Bouquet of Roses
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Summary: Every rose in the bouquet symbolizes an important memory in their relationship. Rose’s bouquet is colorful and precious.

V. Red

“All love that has not friendship for its base is like a mansion built upon sand.” – Ella Wheeler Willcox

Rose sat at the elegantly laid dinner table and poked at it morosely. The fourth dinner of its type they had arranged, so that Scorpius could interact with her parents. As always, her mother was here—she’d even cancelled a work meeting in order to do this. It was her father who was, once again, absent.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” her mother said, setting her fork down with a sigh. “I really did try to get him here.”

“It’s fine,” Rose answered somewhat stiffly, cutting off further explanations. She didn’t want to hear her mother’s excuses for her father. They all knew the real reason he wouldn’t formally meet Scorpius—he didn’t approve, not even a little bit. She knew most of the history: rivalries at school, the schism during the war, the mutual dislike that bordered on hatred, at least on her dad’s side. Mr Malfoy—Draco, she reminded herself—had at least met her and been rather nice, polite even, making an effort to get to know her. Which was much more than her own father was trying to do.

It was enough to make a girl cry. Again.

Scorpius reached out and took her hand. Rose squeezed it. “Let’s just… go home,” she told him wearily, tears in her throat but not in her eyes. She rose and walked over to her mother, hugging her. Hermione Granger-Weasley smoothed a hand back over her daughter’s brow, obviously concerned.

“Same time next week?” the curly-haired woman asked. Rose knew that they looked closer to sisters than mother-daughter these days—the blessing of being witches and having children relatively young.

“No, Mum. Let’s just… leave it be. Dad won’t be any more amenable next week than he is now.” Rose pulled back, retreated into Scorpius’ embrace. “But thanks, for everything. For trying.”

“Of course, luv. I just…” Hermione trailed off, and Rose sighed, closing her eyes and leaning her head against Scorpius’ shoulder. He dropped a kiss on her hair. She didn’t see the look the two shared, mingled anguish and frustration, above her head. She was just so tired of this.


Rose woke muzzily. Her head felt thick from the tears she hadn’t been able to help crying earlier, when they’d arrived home. She sniffed dejectedly and rolled over, expecting to find Scorpius on the bed next to her—he was always good to her when this happened, and it was yet another reason to love him even more than she already did.

He wasn’t there. She blinked and rubbed her eyes before reaching out and feeling the covers, wrinkled where he’d been when she’d first fallen asleep. There was no note, but she rather expected he’d gone to visit his parents—he liked to talk over some of his problems with his father.

Unlike her and her father. Rose buried her face in Scorpius’ pillow, breathing in the scent of him.

Well, maybe it was about time for her to start talking to her father. Damn it, well past time. Resolve firming her mind, she rolled over and rose, shoving her feet into her boots and throwing a robe over her pajamas before Apparating to her family home.

Rose was barely in the door before Hermione was right in front of her, hushing her with hand movements and quiet sounds.

“Mum, what—”

“Shhh,” her mother said again, taking her daughter’s hand and leading her to where she had the newest and most improved version of Uncle George’s Super-Secret Listening Devices. Rose stopped the moment she heard her lover’s voice coming through.

“—made her cry! Every time you don’t show up, she cries like you broke her heart in two. And you think I’m the threat?” Scorpius’ outrage wasn’t concealed like it normally might be behind a polite veneer. No, instead it was being broadcasted at almost a shout, most unusual for him. Her heart swelled at his words.

“You’re no good for her.” Rose easily identified her father’s voice, the specific stubborn note that told her this was something he’d said several times already and wasn’t about to stop saying it any time soon.

“Stop being a prat,” Hermione quietly urged, her voice a murmur in Rose’s ear. “Give him a chance.”

“You’ll only break her heart.”

Rose’s lips pursed, and she made to go find the two men, but her mother’s grip on her arm was surprisingly strong.

“Sir, I love Rose. I adore her. I would never purposefully hurt her.” Heartfelt sincerity radiated off Scorpius even at this distance, and despite herself Rose’s lips tilted up slightly. “I want to spend the rest of what I hope is a very long life with her.”

“Marriage?” Ron sounded aghast at the prospect of a Malfoy marrying his daughter.

“Yes, marriage,” Scorpius replied stubbornly. Rose imagined his chin was jutting up in that way he had. “We’ve even discussed it, she and I. I just haven’t asked her yet.” A short pause, uninterrupted by Ron. “I was hoping to do it after we’d had dinner a few times, but you threw a Chaos Jinx into those plans.”


Hermione’s exasperated head shake didn’t precisely relieve Rose, but neither did it make her more anxious about the outcome.

“We love each other. We’ll do it with or without your blessing.” Rose’s breath caught and she held it. She would do it, she knew—marry him without her dad’s blessing. It wouldn’t be easy; it would be a taint on something that should be perfect, but she would do it. She loved him that much. “But please, please don’t do that to her.” Scorpius’ voice fell into a lower, soothing, persuasive range. Rose silently willed her father to give in. Please, Daddy, please.

The silence stretched tautly, so tight that Rose broke before it ended. She left in a whirl of curly red hair and barged into her father’s study, banging the door none-too-quietly. Both men looked at her with shock, Scorpius looking faintly guilty that he’d gone behind her back and her father… well, she refused to look at her father.

“I admire your intention, luv, but I think he’s a lost cause. Let’s just go,” she said to Scorpius, weaving her fingers with his with unconscious intimacy when she came close enough. They were halfway down the hall before her father recovered enough to shout at them to wait.

“Wait, Rosie! Wait a minute.” She stopped just short of the door to the outside, only half turning toward him.

“What, Daddy?” she asked in a quiet, sad voice.

Hurt scurried across his face at the tone. “Does he… does he really mean that much to you?”

Rose looked up at Scorpius, taking in his harried appearance, his calm grey eyes, the way love softened the angles when he looked at her. “Yes, Daddy. He means everything to me.” Her face shone as she spoke.

Ron swallowed hard and sighed even harder. Not just a passing fancy, she could have read on his face if she’d looked away from Scorpius. She didn’t look away. “F-fine. Let’s go to dinner tomorrow night. I’d like to get to know your beau a bit better.” If he looked faintly green as he said it, only his wife noticed.

“Thank you, Daddy!” Rose threw her arms around her father before he could think, giving him a blinding smile and a huge hug before drawing back. “Owl me the time and place, and we’ll be there.”


Rose had known it was coming, of course. They’d talked about it. The last couple of months had been all about easing their families into it. But Scorpius had given nothing away, and not even she had known when he might propose.

The day had been long but rewarding, a portion of her research with Severus Snape having come through with wonderful efficiency. She came home to find a trail of rose petals leading toward the bedroom.

She laughed to herself, quietly, and toed off her shoes so she could feel the red petals between her toes. Even then, she didn’t really suspect—Scorpius liked to surprise her with rose-scented baths after a long day sometimes.

Rose followed the trail, putting her things down as she went and starting to unfasten her robes. His baths were always quite fun. When she reached the bed, she found laying there a single rose, red in full bloom. She picked it up to sniff it, and the note dangled enticingly.

You are my friend, my heart, my soul. Stay with me always?

Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned as Scorpius stepped out of the bath, where he’d been waiting. In his fingers was a ring, the stone catching the soft candle light. “Marry me?” he asked.

“Oh, yes.” Once again, full love bloomed in her chest for this man.

A/N: Written for Weasley fest for jade_chan. Thanks to my betas!

Tags: bouquet of roses, writing

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