Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has had the day from hell. When he comes home, thoroughly exhausted and more than a little devastated, he finds exactly what he needed to make his world right again. Continuation of my multi-chapter Rose/Scorpius fic, "A Fine Line," but can stand on its own.

Author's Note: Hi everyone! For those of you who have not read my multi-chapter Rose/Scorpius fic, "A Fine Line," I would love it if you checked it out! For the rest of you, I'm going to start posting these one-shots out of chronological order from now on. I think I'll be able to post them more often if I can avoid the writer's block that tends to crop up when I'm trying to force myself to write a story just because it comes next in the timeline. Which is one of the perks of just writing a bunch of one-shots, and not a multi-chapter fic. So this one jumps ahead 6 years from the epilogue of "A Fine Line." Don't worry, I still plan to write their wedding, as well as a few more little stories between their engagement and this one. I'm just not sure when I'll post what. And the wedding one may not be for a while, since I want to use it as a pretty important scene in my Albus/OC fic, and I want to make sure that I keep things consistent.

Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this! It was the idea that made me decide to keep writing one-shots for Rose and Scorpius, so it's been bouncing around in my head for a while now. As always, thank you so much for reading! Please don't forget to let me know what you think!

Lullaby

Scorpius Malfoy was exhausted. He was beyond exhausted—he was completely and utterly drained. In his nearly six years as a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, he could not remember anything that had just utterly destroyed him as thoroughly as dealing with the aftermath of that morning.

Shortly after Scorpius had arrived at work, the call had gone up for Healers to assist with a particularly gruesome emergency that had just been apparated into the lobby. A group of young boys—they looked to be no more than thirteen—had been experimenting with creating fireworks, and had ended up blowing themselves to pieces. Scorpius and the other Healers had immediately leaped into action, working madly in an attempt to heal the gashes, scorched skin, and rent body parts.

All the while, the stench of death had hung thickly in the air, the wails of devastated parents had pierced through the hospital's usual hum of activity, and the Healers had fought off despair at the knowledge that some of the boys were already beyond saving—even by magic.

As Scorpius gathered his things to finally make his way home, two of his colleagues entered the staff room, their heads hung and their limbs heavy with fatigue. He heard one mutter to the other, in a voice that held no humor whatsoever, "Who did they think they were? Weasleys?"

Scorpius shut his eyes tightly at the statement. In that moment, he felt, a great deal more acutely than usual, just what the parents in the Weasley family must go through every time their rambunctious, trouble-making offspring decided to attempt a new invention. It really was a miracle that they hadn't found themselves on the gurneys that Scorpius had spent the better part of his day leaning over, tending to wounded children that he knew were lost causes.

Scorpius dragged himself through the door of his house, completely destroyed by the impossibly long and brutal shift, and immediately headed up the stairs and into the bathroom. He needed a shower. Desperately. He could still smell the blood, death, and burned flesh on his clothes, and seared into his nostrils. As he watched the steam from the tap begin to swirl through the air, he couldn't help but feel that he would never be able to wash off the filth of this day.

Mechanically, Scorpius stripped off his clothes and stepped under the scorching spray. The water pounded into the tensed and knotted muscles of his shoulders and upper back, the temperature stinging his skin with a sensation just this side of pain. He closed his eyes, attempting to push away the horrors that would be forever etched on his memory, only to be confronted with the gory slideshow that seemed to be running on repeat ever since he had gotten his first glimpse of the boys' damaged bodies.

Scorpius turned towards the spray, allowing it to beat onto his face for a few moments, then leaned forward to plant his hands against the tiled wall and just let the water hit the top of his head before cascading down to stream over his tired body. He was so out of it that he didn't hear the shower doors open, and so jolted in surprise at the small, warm hands that slid around his waist.

"Rose," he sighed, at the feel of his wife as she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself to his back, kissing the spot between his shoulder blades. He let out a long, shaky breath and clasped his hand around hers, where they had settled against his stomach.

"Long day?" Rose whispered into his skin.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Rose asked, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder.

"No." Scorpius spun in her arms, pulling her body flush to his and catching her startled gasp with his mouth.

He ran his hands down her body in one smooth stroke, swallowing her moan as his thumbs grazed over the swell of her breasts, before continuing down over her hips to hoist her up to his level. Rose wrapped her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him and pulling his mouth to hers with fiery determination. She didn't know what had put him in this mood, but whatever it was, she was going to do everything in her power to help him exorcise it.

He spun again, slamming her back into the shower wall and devouring her mouth with his. She shuddered at the feeling of his hard length against her center, and ground into him, wrenching a growl from his throat. Scorpius clutched her impossibly closer, his fingers digging into her thighs as he plunged into her welcoming heat. He threw his head back on a groan at the sensation of her enveloping him. Then, he gathered his wits and started to move.

It was passion and hunger, and more than a little desperation, and Scorpius channeled the heat rising up between them, using it to purge the ugliness of the day from his soul. He sunk into Rose, losing himself in her delicious curves and the clean scent of her unruly scarlet curls—striking the grisly images from his mind and completely erasing all ability to think. It had always been that way with her, and he hoped it always would be.

When Rose's entire body went taut, her muscles straining and her eyes going blind, Scorpius tumbled over the edge after her. He sagged forward, the air wheezing in and out of his lungs, as he rested his weight and hers against the wall, and buried his face in her shoulder.

Rose gently stroked a hand up and down his spine as she attempted to regain her breath. She tilted her head to towards his, so that she could press kisses to the side of his face. When he trembled at the feel of her lips against his temple, Rose tightened her hold on him. She ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe, smiling up into his eyes when he finally pulled back to look at her. Scorpius sighed, leaning forward to press his lips to hers in a kiss that contained none of the urgency—or the slight edge of panic—that had characterized their frantic coupling.

By the time they finally exited the shower, their fingers were wrinkly, and they were both completely sated. Scorpius could summon the energy to do little more than collapse onto the soft mattress in the master bedroom beside his wife, and drift off into a heavy sleep.

Scorpius dreamed of the hospital. In his mind, he saw the grisly injuries and burned bodies of the young boys that he and the other Healers hadn't been able to save, played out on a seemingly infinite loop. His ears filled with the shrieks of agony from the mutilated children, and the cries of despair from their families. The images swirled together, a gruesome collage of blood and death that had him thrashing in his sleep, and a cold sweat breaking out across his skin.

He woke to the sound of screaming.

Scorpius jolted upright in the bed, his hand automatically groping the sheets next to him, where the comfort of Rose's sleeping body could be found. But the bed was empty. He was alone. Pushing down the momentary burst of what he knew to be irrational panic, Scorpius surveyed the room with bleary eyes. It took him much longer than it should have to realize that the screaming had not stopped.

He threw back the covers, the feel of the cool hardwood floor against his feet helping to snap him to full alertness. He slipped on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, and slowly made his way out of the room.

Scorpius followed the sound of unsettled cries to the doorway at the other end of the hallway. The door was cracked open, allowing a shaft of light to escape. He pressed his hand to the wooden panel, easing it open, before stepping inside.

Scorpius's eyes swept the room. The nursery was painted with pale greens and pinks—their way of reconciling the Slytherin and Gryffindor colors—and there were more stuffed animals from loving family members cluttering the floor and shelves than any baby could ever know what to do with. Scorpius's lips tipped up at the sight of Rose settling herself onto the plush, rocking loveseat across from the crib. She had pushed aside the robe that she had obviously pulled on when she exited their bed, urging their four-month-old daughter, Allegra, to nurse.

Scorpius tore his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of his baby girl with her mouth clamped around Rose's breast, to see that his wife's eyes were focused on him. He shifted his weight away from where he had been leaning on the doorjamb and walked over to the loveseat. He reached down, lifting Rose in his arms so that he could slide under her, before wrapping the both of them up in his embrace. He leaned back against the cushions, holding his wife and daughter tightly to his chest.

Rose stayed silent, but lifted a hand to his face, cupping his cheek in her palm. Scorpius closed his eyes at her touch.

"There were seven boys brought in today," he began softly. "They'd been experimenting with spells—trying to make fireworks. Something went wrong—backfired—and…" Scorpius's voice broke. He took in a shuddering breath as the images swirled to the forefront of his consciousness.

Rose leaned further into his body, the steady stroke of her hand on his face keeping him grounded. She knew he needed to get it out, but knew better than to push.

"We could only save four of them. Because of the spells they were using, many of the injuries couldn't be healed. Even on the boys that survived—they'll have to live with the scars for the rest of their lives." Scorpius opened his eyes to look down at Rose. Her eyes shone with compassion for him, and sorrow for the lives that had been lost.

"They ended up having the same effect as dark magic curses. I don't know what they were playing at, but it went very, very wrong. I just—" he paused to collect himself. "I can't get it out of my head. All the blood—and the scorched skin. God, Rose—they blasted themselves apart."

Rose cupped her hand around the back of Scorpius's head, pulling his mouth down to hers in a kiss that was meant to comfort, rather than seduce. "You did everything you could, Scor. Even magic has its limits."

He nodded, touching his forehead to hers. At the sound of gurgling, Scorpius pulled back. He looked down to see Allegra staring up into his eyes, while still suckling. He couldn't suppress the smile at the sight. He lifted his hand to run his knuckles lightly across his daughter's cheek. The baby reached up and grabbed onto one of his fingers, squeezing it in a surprisingly tight fist. Scorpius let out a delighted laugh before leaning down to press a kiss to Allegra's downy head.

He pulled back, resting his head against his wife's again, finally feeling the peace that he had been craving since he had stepped into hell that morning. He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh.

With his entire world cradled safely in his arms, Scorpius drifted off to sleep.

Stay tuned for more one-shots! I'm also working on a short story about James Sirius Potter and my OC, and Neville's oldest child, Melinda Longbottom. They got into my head at the end of "A Fine Line" and I just can't help myself! Hope to see you next time!