Title: Wizards Only, Witches Forbidden

Fic Type: one-shot (though it's given me an idea for a drabble series...)

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe is all JK Rowling's. D,=

A/N: I got this idea when writing How's Your Father? WinkWink - and it's not related to any other Scorpius/Rose stories.

Wizards Only, Witches Forbidden

- one shot -

It was a known fact that Rose Weasley loved Quidditch.

The famous wizard pastime was what made her so close to her Aunt Ginny, who had gone on to play professionally. There were many factors from the game that drew in Rose and her aunt: the wind in their hair as the flew about on their brooms, the thrill of a win... Quidditch was in Rose's blood. Everyone knew Rose preferred it that way.

But not everyone liked that she preferred it that way.

Like her father.

And her (super secret, super sexy) boyfriend.

Rose found it extremely humorous that the two, who liked to believe they were as opposite as could be, had the very same view on her playing quidditch. Not that she liked the fact that her two most loved men in her life were such bigots. Frankly, it ticked her clock. Just because she didn't have a packet and rubies, she wasn't fit to play?


It was ridicules the way her father was such an overprotective bampot. Even her mum thought so. Of course, it was only the females in her family that gave her sympathy. For some strange reason, all the men in the Potter-Weasley bunch were insanely caveman like when it came to "their women." Most of them even joined in on the overprotective male pig-ness that was directed towards Rose. It was infuriating. In all her sixteen years Rose had never been able to escape the watchful eye of a - male - family member. At home, her father. At school, her cousins. It was enough to drive a girl mad as a bag of ferrets.

Her boyfriend, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, held the same views as her family.

Quidditch = dangerous.

Danger + Rose = not exceptional.

Their views typically = a hacked off Rose.

Most of her other cousins played quidditch and they didn't get any of the nagging "Be careful Rosie," "Slow down Rosie," "Hold on to your broomstick Rosie," "Not so high Rosie," lectures - because they were boys. There was a plus behind all the madness that her cousins caused. Rose could just see a hint of it if she tilted her head and squinted. She had an advantage on the Quidditch pitch, 'cause no one - no one - wanted to hurt Rose when they knew what her gaggle of cousins were capable of. This kept most Beaters from aiming for her, but not always. The wrath of her cousins couldn't keep everyone playing "nice," she was a Slytherin after all - and not all took kindly to that.

Her boyfriend was just the same - in the lecturing. He was always offering her tips. Telling her to swoop instead of swerving. Sometimes, after sitting with him, she just felt like pulling out her waste length locks. And sometimes, she felt like grinning from ear to ear. Knowing he cared so much about her gave her stomach the flipsies. Which she liked. A lot.

What Rose didn't like was the way He-Whose-Name-Shall-Not-Be-Told obsessed over her when she was hurt.

Which was what he was doing at the moment. (Thank Merlin her parents had yet to show... and that her cousins had finally gone off to bed.)

"...crazy nitwit. Scared me to hell and back. You free fell almost seventy blooming feet. I'm going to cure that git of a Ravenclaw into his seventh year. Did he think that he could just hit you with his bloody beater bat and not face consequences?"

He really was never going to let her live it down. It wasn't like it was her fault that Luis Schliemann went screwy and came after her with his bat. If anything, she would place the blame on He-Who-Is-A-Secret; if it hadn't been for him, Rose might have accepted Luis's date proposition to Hogsmeade. And then maybe Luis wouldn't have gone completely bonkers on her.

"Oh, c'mon. It wasn't that bad."

His quick silver eyes flashed, and Rose realized maybe she should have just kept her mouth shut and let him rant. "Not that bad?" He stood from the empty medical bed he'd been resting on, towering over her bed ridden form. "Not. That. Bad?" He grabbed her chin, making her stomach drop at the contact. "You broke you ruddy leg in two places - two, Rose - and got yourself a concussion. And dislocated your shoulder. Tell me, tell me, that that's not bad."

"Gnnkph," Rose never did have the ability to speak when he was touching her. It was as if her brain switched off.

"Yeah," A flash of white teeth - there was that oh so famous smirk, "tha's what I thought." He leaned in a pit closer (not that there was much room to do so) until Rose could feel the heat of his breath and smell the spice and woodsy scent that was all male, and all him. "You gotta be more careful, Rosie."

Rose only blinked.

"I don' like you gettin' hurt." His voice was rough with emotion as he spoke; his jaw rough with stubble as he brushed a kiss across her forehead.

Again she blinked, "Mnmhmm." Rose was glad she had the pain meds the blame the lack of speaking skills on; though the sleepiness that came along with it was a bit annoying.

He leaned back to rise and Rose made a quick grab at his shirt, "C'm'back." This time her blink was slow as she fought sleep.

His deep chuckle only served to lull her into a deeper sense of comfort, "I'm right here."

Rose gave a sleepy smile as he settled himself onto her bed so that they were spooned together. With his chest to her back, and his hand wrapped tightly around her stomach, Rose snuggled into his form. Forgetting her frustration towards overprotective cavemen, and the pain from her injuries, Rose fell into a deep sleep - a smile on her face.

Five hours later, when Rose's parents finally arrived, that was how the two sixth years were found. Wrapped around each other, sound asleep.

"Malfoy!? Get your bloody hands off my daughter!"

Yay? Ney? :]

Oh, anyone for an add-on?