Garbled Parsletongue

“So,” a girl’s voice broke into his thoughts, “you and Scorp seem to have made up, or so I gather from all the cheerfulness running rampant.”

Albus looked up from his book. Rose was standing next to him, her arms crossed, and her freckled face drawn into a slight frown. Albus couldn’t help but grin. He had been grinning pretty much non-stop since last night, when he had miraculously found himself back in Scorpius’s arms. He couldn’t even bring himself to protest the nickname; right now, it didn’t matter what anyone called Scorpius, because he was his Scorpius, by whatever name one used for the pale blond, and that was all that mattered.

“Yeah,” he said, beaming, “yeah we have. Thanks.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose replied noncommittally.

“No, really,” Albus insisted. He turned around on the bench, so that he could face his cousin head-on. He wanted to convince her of his sincerity; and of his gratitude. He forced himself to be serious, although there was nothing he could do about that grin. It was probably a permanent part of his face now. “It seems I owe you quite the debt, Rose,” Albus said solemnly. “Thank you.”

Rose shrugged, not quite meeting Albus’s eyes, as if uncomfortable with the level of emotion she saw there. Albus couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of that; so what if he cared a lot, and looked like he did? So what if he maybe cared a little too much? He was in love with Scorpius, and not afraid to admit it.

Well...perhaps he was a little bit afraid. But that had nothing to do with the feeling itself, or the admittance thereof, and everything to do with his worry over what the reception of said feeling would be, from his family and Scor’s. But this was Rose, and Rose wouldn’t care. She was Albus’s closest friend, aside from Scorpius, and furthermore she was Scor’s friend, too—unlike most of the rest of their sprawling Weasley relations. Albus knew he could be honest with Rose, and not have to worry what she might think.

But he still wasn’t quite ready to tell her everything, not just yet.

“So, things are good again, between the two of you?” Rose asked, scanning the Great Hall idly. If she was looking for Scorpius, she wasn’t going to find him; he had stayed behind in Arithmancy because he had more questions for Professor Vector, while the rest of the class—like Albus—had sensibly fled, their brains already taxed from the brutal lesson.

But he’d catch up soon, and then he’d come and sit next to Albus, and everything would be perfect. “Yeah,” Albus answered Rose, knowing that he probably looked like a sappy idiot, and not caring. “Yeah, things are good. Great, actually.”

“Ah,” said Rose. “‘Great,’ huh? Well, I’m...I’m very glad to hear it.”

Albus beamed. “And it’s thanks to you, Rose. I really, really owe you, this time. Like, epically. If there’s anything—”

“Don’t mention it,” Rose said flatly, “really.”

Albus actually reached out and caught Rose’s hand and squeezed it, just briefly. “Okay,” he said, “Just—know I mean it, all right? Thanks. Really.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rose grunted again. She disengaged her hand from Albus’s grip and stepped backwards, out of his reach. The smile she gave him was stiff and short, then she spun away and hurried off across the Great Hall.

Albus was still grinning when he turned back to face his revision. He was really, really glad that he had Rose Weasley for a cousin.