He's over. We're fighting. My best friend is occupied fighting her own boyfriend. So, fine, I'll write my own boy advice—even if it's not applicable. For Ember Nickel's Project Philia—Say Uncle! Competition. I don't own anything. Though I suppose the ages might be canonically plausible, they're probably off a bit, so I'll give a little forewarning; I tweaked a little.
"Aunt Fleur?" the young witch called when she heard the front door swing shut.
Rose had gone to Shell Cottage when her Uncle Bill Flooed, asking her if she would watch Dominique and Louis while he ran to help her dad and Uncle George fix a mishap at the Wizard Wheezes shop in Diagon Alley. Aunt Fleur had gone shopping with Victoire for a dress to wear to a date with her boyfriend, Teddy, who she had then gone to visit. Being right between her three cousins in age, Rose often accepted the duty of babysitting the younger two Weasley children when Victoire rejected the responsibility—why should an almost fifteen-year-old girl have to watch her four and two year old sister and brother?
Rose had just gotten Louis to lie down for his nap, snuggling with his favorite blanket in the portable crib in the sitting room while his big cousin read him a little rhyming book, when his mother arrived home. Dominique sat on the sofa, dressing her dolls, playing for a moment, and then redressing them. Though the little girl would protest that Louis's book was for babies, she enjoyed the rhyming verses and listened contently.
Placing the book down gently as to not wake the child, Rose stood and walked to the kitchen, finding Aunt Fleur moving the contents of brown paper grocery bags into the cabinets. She heard the padding of tiny feet and the tinkling of a tiny charm bracelet as Dominique trailed behind, her dolls abandoned.
"Hello, Rosie," Aunt Fleur said, the French her voice once carried now dissolved almost completely. "Hello, Dominique," she said in a bright, excited voice to her daughter. The strawberry-blonde toddler bounded forward, running at her mother, who caught her with ease and lifted her up high. After replacing her daughter on the ground, "I think it's passed time for your nap," she laughed heartily at the expression on Rose's face; "Dominique, have you been trying to get out of your nap again?"
"I dunno, Mummy," Dominique said, looking up through the curls that fell in her face. "Is it time for nap?" the blush gave up the girl's act, and knowing that she hadn't gotten away with fooling her cousin, she bolted out of the kitchen on her small, quick feet to her bedroom to tuck herself in for her afternoon nap. Fleur laughed once more, joined by her niece.
"Thanks for coming to watch them for a bit," Aunt Fleur said, setting out things for lunch. "Those two have missed you like crazy; it's another new thing, now it's not just Victoire, but James and Al and you; no one for them to badger every day," she joked. "So, Rosie," Aunt Fleur sat down at the kitchen table across from Rose after putting a kettle on the stove, "Tell me what's going on at Hogwarts."
Rose gulped. She had been longing to talk to her aunt for weeks; this was not something she could talk to her mother about, because her mother had never had trouble with boys: mum had been friends with dad and Uncle Harry since their first year, and history was written from that friendship, not horrifically sappy love novels with drama at every corner. So why did it seem like the latter was becoming Rose's life? Aunt Fleur would understand, she decided, and she would speak to her wonderfully sympathetic aunt at the first chance.
"It's all very new to me still, but I like it. My studies are going well, my professors are lovely . . . except perhaps the Potions master, he's head of Slytherin and he isn't awfully nice to Gryffindors. But . . ." she paused, "I've made a friend, you know, outside the family," Aunt Fleur snickered. There were enough Weasley children to match her graduating class at Beaubatons; they had all gone to Hogwarts seldom knowing any other Wizarding children.
"Is she in your house?" Aunt Fleur asked, not bothering to recompose herself and with a grin still on her face; it was her Rosie, there was no need for seriousness.
"Uh, he," she said timidly, "And no, he isn't," Rose's head shrank into her shoulders slightly, like a child preparing to be scolded.
"Well what's wrong with that?" Aunt Fleur exclaimed. "I don't understand the house pride at Hogwarts; at Beaubatons we were one single family, no separation or competition," the French became slightly emphasized for a moment; "I think it's lovely that you haven't judged him by the house he was sorted into, Rosie, and made friends regardless." She stood to take the screaming kettle off the stove top. "What is his house?" She asked, placing a few tea bags into the water and moving it onto the kitchen table along with two tea cups, "I ask out of curiosity," she added, thinking her question might have undermined her "house equality" statement.
Rose felt relieved, though at the same time, floored. Aunt Fleur wasn't offended that Rose had made a friend out of Gryffindor. She didn't even seem so concerned that her new—only—friend was male. Yet how could she not be concerned? Not even eleven and a half and Rose had a male friend, and even worse, she liked him. Why didn't Aunt Fleur see that right away? The new feelings terrified Rose, it must be obvious.
"He's a Slytherin," she said almost nonchalantly but giving herself away when she peered up at Aunt Fleur from stirring her cup of tea to find her aunt looking at he with a critical eye.
"Is there anything more you'd like to tell me about your—" she cleared her throat, "friend?"
"His name is Scorpius," Rose began in a rush, "And his father hated my mum and dad when they were in school together; he especially hated Uncle Harry but my mum had slapped him; they hate each other and they wouldn't be able to stand knowing that I'd made friends with his son or that he made friends with me. But he's not just my friend, Aunt Fleur; you know that, don't you? He's so understanding, and deep, it's hard to believe he's eleven," her eyes were doe-wide, "And he's got to be the cutest boy I've ever seen, and I think he likes me too, but I don't know what to do if I can't talk to my mum because I've never done anything like this before," she stopped abruptly, leaving the kitchen silent save for the clink of china as she put her cup down, noticing she had clutched it as she spoke.
"Rosie, if you really like Scorpius your mother won't hold a grudge against him because of his father; although I can't promise anything about your father because Ron is a little hot-headed. But if you don't think you can tell your mum about your friend, not just yet, then you can always talk to me. And, since you brought it up, I don't see why he wouldn't like you, Rosie. You're smart, and you're a beautiful young witch," Rose flushed, passing the pink she was already showing to a deep crimson, "if you think he does like you, it would never hurt to ask him if there's a girl he's interested in; I'd done it a few times when I was in school, and it never hurt any friendships when it didn't go as planned. And, you know, it's just your first year. You have six and a half more with Scorpius before you would have to go to extenuating efforts to see one another. But I'm getting ahead of myself. He's a boy, and you're a girl. Just play things by ear, darling, and follow your heart. That's what led me to your uncle, you know?" Aunt Fleur finished, an aura of wisdom only visible to Rose glowing around her.
"I can write to you whenever I want to talk to you?" Rose asked tentatively, blush fading and a grateful smile illuminating her face.
"Of course, Rosie. That's always been the deal," the wise, beautiful witch said with a smirking grin.
"Thank you, Aunt Fleur," Rose said, standing quickly to hug her aunt. As the two embraced, the door swung open to Rose's dad and Uncle Bill. Their conversation ceased as they saw the aunt and niece.
"What did we miss?" Ron asked, making Rose feel sudden discomfort. Aunt Fleur laughed once more at how uncomfortable Rosie became when her dad came in, their hug losing its loving and supportive quality and becoming quite awkward.
"It's nothing," Aunt Fleur said smoothly, placing a hand on the small girl's shoulder. "Thanks again for the hand, Rosie," she added as Ron stepped forward to brush a hand over his daughter's hair.
"Ready to go, Rose? Your mother wants you to pack tonight so you don't get frazzled tomorrow," he said.
"Sure, dad. I'll talk to you soon Aunt Fleur. Goodbye Uncle Bill," Rose said cheerfully as Ron turned on the spot with his daughter clutching his arm, Disapparating from his brother's kitchen to his own.
"Seriously," Bill asked when he and his wife were alone. "What was that about?" Fleur grinned mischievously.
"Just a little girl's chat."