VI. White

VI. White

“Although I conquer all the earth,

The shining joy and jewel of all my kingdom.” – Sanskrit poem

Her nerves hummed under her skin, treading the faint line between nervous and excited. Whichever it was, it was keeping Rose awake. She kept tossing and turning in the half-familiar bed at the Burrow, where she was staying until the wedding tomorrow. Her family was keeping with tradition, it seemed; for all the weddings they had held in the last decade, the Weasley member had stayed in this room, in this bed. Victoire when she’d married Teddy Lupin, Lucy when she’d married Heath Longbottom.

I’m going to look like an Inferi for my own wedding, she thought with a groan as she rolled over yet again. She missed Scorpius’ warm presence at her side, the heavy arm that would wrap around her and draw her close.

So intent was she on trying to sleep that it took Rose several minutes to hear the quiet, irregular taps at her window. Intrigued and definitely not sleepy, she climbed out of the tangle of covers and opened the window, letting the fragrant spring air into the room. Below her, in the yard, stood Scorpius, broom in one hand. His smile when he caught sight of her was breathtaking even from a distance.

He dropped something to the ground—small stones that he’d been levitating to the window, she suspected—and threw a leg over the broom to hover just before her window. “You’re not supposed to be here!” she whispered loudly enough for him to hear, but she was happy to see him and it came through in her tone. “Get in, get in,” she urged, stepping out the window so he could squeeze through. “What are you doing here?” As soon as he and the broom were inside, her arms were around him.

His skin was cool from the broom ride he’d taken and he smelled fresh and wild. “I wanted to see you,” he murmured against her warmer skin before sneaking a cold hand just under the hem of her shirt, making her shiver and smack him on the shoulder.

“It’s supposed to be bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” Rose scolded him.

“I don’t believe in that. It’s a silly superstition…” He dropped a kiss onto her lips, light and playful. “Besides, I couldn’t sleep. I snuck out.”

She cuddled close to his chest. “I couldn’t sleep either,” she admitted. Her hand slipped into his and she tugged. “Come on, you’re cold.”

Scorpius took a moment to toe off his shoes before crawling into the bed with a bemused smile on his face. Rose followed him, contentedly leaning into him when he put an arm around her, reclining against the pillows.

“Cold, but it’s not cold feet, I’m promise,” he told her.

“I know.” Such simple words, but completely heart-felt. Rose believed him—in fact, had never doubted that him or even considered the thought that he might jilt her at the altar.

Not that her assurance had kept her cousin James or even Hugo from pestering her repeatedly during the seemingly endless planning that went into the wedding. James had, quite typically, never given up on the “Scorpius is a git and you’ll rue the day you ever defended him.” Personally, Rose rather thought it was continuing sour grapes for the slap she’d given him so many years ago now.

Poor Hugo, she knew, was simply trying to look out for her. He meant well, always, she knew, but there were times she found it rather annoying. He’d even come to her door late last night—before Scorpius arrived, thank Merlin—and earnestly asked if she was really doing the right thing.

Rose had sighed, looking into the brown eyes that echoed her own, though his face was rounder. “I know what I’m doing,” she’d promised him. So earnestly concerned, he still looked worried. Rose had wrapped her hands around his and sworn it once again.

“I’ll be so happy after tomorrow… erm, today,” Rose said. The statement wasn’t quite out of left field—Scorpius had long learned to follow her occasional leaps of topic.

“It won’t stop James’ complaining,” Scorpius said, but he sounded more amused than upset.

“Nothing stops James’ complaining. I don’t think he knows how to do anything else,” she replied with a quiet, sleepy laugh.

Their talk slowly faded into much-needed beauty sleep.

***

Despite the late night, Rose woke early, but it was a slow rise to consciousness. The first thing she became aware of was the empty space in the bed next to her—empty, but still faintly warm. Scorpius had obviously risen and left before he could be caught by any of her family.

That would have been a… well, it would have caused quite a huff, to be sure. She smiled sleepily and rolled over, wishing she could open her eyes to his face but knowing it was an impossibility. The space wasn’t empty, though. The pillow next to her did not cushion her beloved’s head, but instead a perfect white rose.

She reached for it, noticing now the rich, heady scent of the flower. Like with all the others that marked their relationship, this one had a note.

For the most beautiful bride in the history of brides. You are my Rose, my jewel, my crown, my comfort. See you soon, my dearest.

Sniffing back tears, Rose crawled out of bed—crying would ruin the look she wanted for the day. Once her mother arrived with breakfast on a tray, Rose requested to see her wedding bouquet, and without a word of explanation to anyone she wove the white rose into it.

She was getting married!