❝Yes ,  I would say I can bunk over .❞

  Lifting up six thick blankets -  with a note of concern he considers
  the idea that Rose is sick ; he takes care to tuck them in after him -  
  Scorpius leans against her headboard , adjusting her so she’s as
  comfortable as can be accomplished in a twin bed .

    ❝I would first ask why you’re so disinclined to sleep alone , 
    but tell me that at your leisure . What I'm really interested in ,❞ 
    he continues , grinning , ❝- is this house. This is the Burrow ? 
    It really is amazing .  Which of your aunts or uncles or grandparents - 
    don’t look at me like that , Rose , there are so many ! It’s hard to
    remember them all ! Which of them owns this now ? And how cool
    or oblivious are they to have let a Malfoy into it for Christmas ?❞

  But Scorpius doesn’t need an answer , really . He sinks a little lower
  into the bed , his hand travelling to brush Rose’s hair lightly as he
  observes the ceiling . It has the worn look of generations of use , but
  not in the way Malfoy Manor does . It’s almost warm , almost cozy ,  
  this grimy ceiling , exactly like the rest of the house . Does Rose realize
  how lucky she is to have this , he wonders ? Warmth and family ? He
  bites his lip as he thinks on it ; of course she does . It’s just petty jealousy
  tearing at him . Really Scorpius should be dwelling on his own luck ; a
  wonderful girl next to him and a family willing to overlook his lineage
  downstairs . Surely Christmas has never been this good .

    ❝Well, I mean, there are different definitions of ‘meet,’ really.❞
 

 His voice is unconvincingly nonchalant; when he was eleven,
 the numbers were too large to impose any real threat. They were
 there, they were part of life. Just like meeting Rose. The numbers
 marched on, too large to hold significance. But now that the clock
 is ticking through its last hour, they know something’s wrong.

 It’s a big deal for Scorpius. Neither has even glanced at Rose’s,
 not for a while (actually, Scorpius had been keeping his mind off
 the subject of her timer for fear of boosting his hopes too high). He
 simply began to panic when he noticed the numbers, and now it’s
 all Rose can do to keep him calm. As his breathing begins to
 even out, he continues. 

    ❝Maybe I’ve already met this person. You know, in the sense that
    I’ve introduced myself, or we’ve said a few words, or maybe even
    that we became friends,❞ he explains, knowing the last scenario
    is too good to possibly be true. ❝But maybe there’s something
    that’ll make me see this person in a- I dunno, a new way. You know?
    Like I’ll just say something or they’ll do something and more than
    the clock letting me know it’ll be-❞

 The clock falls off his wrist with a clink; it’s still only him and
 Rose in the entrance hall. Renewed excitement swells his
 chest and he finds the courage to grin.

    ❝It’ll be me knowing.❞