AN: This is a songg fic of sorts, based on 'Somewhere Only We Know' by Keane/Gleee. IDK how good I am with song fics so it's kind of just like an experiment. Hope you likeee!

There's a pounding in my head, a fever that I can't sweat out, and I know it has nothing to do with the weather or the water rushing by my feet. I squint my eyes against the sun and rest up against the bark, reading yet again the crumpled note between my fingers.

Weasley –

I'll be back on Wednesday. Meet me by the tree – you know which one.

See you soon,

Scorpius.

And it's Wednesday, and I'm here, and he isn't. It's just me, leaning against the smooth bark of the tree where it feels like we've spent a thousand summers. I close my eyes and kick off my shoes, feeling the soft earth beneath my feet. Such a simple thing brings back so many memories – where can I begin? I've dreamt of this tree every night for a month, wanting to go back but never allowing myself. Not without him.

There's a rush of air behind me and suddenly, he's there, looking as tall and confident as the day he left. "Bloody hell, I've missed you," I cry, jumping up and practically tackling him to the ground.

"It's only been four weeks, Weasley, can't you survive that long on your own?"

I can't, I want to tell him, I can't and I won't and why won't he realise how much it hurts me to be alone? "Of course I can – I just…yeah."

"Gonna let me into there?" he asks, tapping the side of my head, "What's up, Rose?"

"It's just this place…it hasn't changed a bit. You know, I've been dreaming about all this. Remember all those picnics, and the time that flowers rained from the sky, and –"

"You want to talk about it?"

I close my eyes and fight back the hot pricks behind my eyelids. "No, it's fine," I whisper, remembering the letter where he told me about the sweet Parisian girl he'd taken a fancy to, "Scorpius…you didn't tell…you didn't tell her about…about here, did you?" The fear hits me in waves, almost strong enough to knock me off my feet and send me crumpling to the ground.

"Never," he says, "This," a gesture to the tree, the river, the grass, "is ours. Only ours."

The fear subsides and my heartbeat slows. We're resting up against the tree trunk, drinking in the midday sun, and we don't need to talk. Our silence is comfortable, reliable, speaks more than a thousand words ever could. And for the first time, I feel brave enough to do what I've always wanted to do. What I've never allowed myself to do.

So I kiss him.

And then I feel that something, someone, somewhere, up there is smiling down on me, raining soft petals on my hair and drenching me with warmth.

Because he kisses me back.

AN: I hope you enjoyed! Pleasee revieww, it means so much to mee!