A/N: Hi Readers! This is my first Rose/Scorpius fanfiction. They're my favorite couple, think of all the possibilities! Comments/suggestions/constructive criticisms are always welcome. There is always room for improvement. Enjoy and read on!

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize as well as, Harry Potter and all its characters belong to the great J.K. Rowling.

Hogwarts had a wonderful choir that sang on a regular basis. They had practice on Monday and Wednesday nights from 8-9. How exactly did Scorpius Malfoy know this information? he by no means was a singer himself. The very idea of a Malfoy singing was incredulous from the beginning. His parents didn't sing, neither did any of his relatives. As a matter of fact Scorpius hadn't heard music until his friend introduced him to the modern day pop songs. Like any other Malfoy he avoided the art altogether. One day however he had decided to take a detour from the library to the Slytherin dungeons. Not a short cut by any means... More of a long cut actually, he remembered that if he walked at his usual pace of 10 mph he would be able to get to the common room just a couple of minutes after usual.

As a Malfoy he didn't have many friends outside the regular death eater families. His mother had instilled in him since birth that there was nothing wrong with blood. His personality however reeked of ambition inevitably resulting in his sorting into Slytherin.

One lonely evening he was running later than usual and he was walking past the Charm's classroom just minutes after 8. The corridors were half empty inspiring no conversation or thoughts to flow to his head. He just... walked. No thoughts, no problems, no worries. He wasn't the most talkative person in the world.

It was then that he heard it. The note that would haunt him for the rest of the night. It was an eerie note yet sung so poetically it possessed none of the qualities of eeriness at all. That was the only way that he could describe it to himself. It was beautiful. How he went from describing the voice from eerie to beautiful would always amaze him, but it was then that he convinced himself that he would find the owner of that voice.

Ever since, he had passed that classroom the same way and the same time as before. Sometimes he heard nothing and sometimes he heard a voice. Not just any voice, but THE voice. The most melodious voice that had ever sung in his opinion. The voice came to haunt him in his dreams where he chased a faceless figure who sang. It was the same dream every night for months though several small details seemed to evolve with time.

He was walking through a random corridor when he saw a ghost. The ghost was receding down the hallway and he chased after it... after her. The ghost had the voice, the one who's he longed to put a face to, yet couldn't. She was singing a beautiful tune, a lullaby of sorts. Slowly the ghost would evolve into a figure. Her figure was unique and fulfilled all his dreams and imaginations. He couldn't make out the color of her hair, but it was sleek yet had a slightly bushy quality. The face would turn to the side as if to glance behind and give him a glimpse of her face. Up ahead he would realize that she was about to run into a well lit corridor, but just as she did, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't help but wake up. These dreams would be the death of him, he decided one night as he woke with a jolt. The same taunting dream. It was like dangling string in front of a kitten's face, only to steal it away.

One particular day he was walking through the hallway reliving this very dream. He jolted out of his day dream only to realize that the singing he had stopped to listen no longer lingered in the air. He heard rustling and realized that people were about to exit through the door he was standing behind. They would see him, a Malfoy, standing in the hallway and, he suspected, they would know what he was doing. Though listening in on the choir wasn't a crime, that was what it would turn into if they saw him there. He turned and started sprinting down the hallway wrenched open the picture and whispered "hold still!" To the portrait.

This portrait was that of a rather indignant brown haired mustachioed man. The only reason he was so indignant was because his picture, though unknown by most of the Hogwarts population, was the Seeing Portrait. The few who knew this knew that if you whispered the word audient you would be able to see though the portrait. What made the man indignant was that the few who knew about the portrait would use him constantly commanding him to freeze so that they would see through what was essentially his eyes. In order for the spell to work the painting had to stay in one position the entire time, so as not to break the concentration.

Audient he whispered just as he successfully hid behind the portrait. Just in time to, at that moment a small group of 20-30 people exited the classroom. He watched closely trying to find the girl, feeling as if he would know her if he saw her. He was watching them pass intently, Then, he heard a laugh. It stopped his head, that had been frantically swinging back and forth trying to see something, anything to identify the girl. The laugh had done it. It's smooth fluency matched her voice was his first thought. He looked for the source of the laugh and realized it had come from the end of the corridor. He saw a group of girls pass around the corner, but the one thing that struck him was the red hair that one of them had.

He knew it was her. He thought to himself. He didn't know how he knew, but he just knew. It was the instinct. The instinct of love. He felt like he knew her even though he just knew what she looked like and even then just bare details nothing enough for the face. What troubled him most about his infatuation over the girl with red hair was that she had the characteristic Weasley red hair. It had taken him a week to realize this subtle, yet crucial detail. She couldn't love him, whichever Weasley she was. He wouldn't love him, he realized given the chance. He sighed. It was almost Christmas. The choir would sing during the Christmas Ball and he knew she would be there. She had to be and she would sing for everyone. He suddenly felt robbed that other people would be able to hear her beautiful voice, cheated even. He felt that he should be the only one to hear the voice, to revel in its brilliance.

Weeks flew by as he observed each Weasley in detail. Trying to find who had the right shade of hair,but they were often in a large, not only that but his vision was often obscured by crowds of people. Christmas morning arrived. He sat on the edge of his bed nervous and jumpy. His best mate, Michael Nott walked in, eyeing him warily as he jumped. He had no idea of Scorpius's fascination with the Weasleys, which would probably turn most of the Slytherin's against him. Recently, the reason behind their meek prejudices seemed to evade him and he now understood that the hate and prejudice had been inherited, as if encoded in their DNA.

He got up off his bed and looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing green robes that made his blonde hair stand out and grey eyes look like unwelcome orbs. The cold glare had been inherited much like the hate. He had been on the receiving end of the glare they could produce several times and knew he didn't look becoming in the least.

"Who's the girl?" Michael asked.

Scorpius looked at him "Huh?" Inwardly, he panicked. Did you he know? What if he knew? He was dead done for!

"I've never seen you look so concerned about your appearance." Michael observed keenly.

"Nothing. No one." Scorpius muttered under his breath cursing the world's existence.

"Nothing," Michael repeated flatly.

"Nope, not a damn thing."

"All right then." Michael said, looking thoroughly unconvinced "to the great hall?"

"To the great hall," Scorpius repeated feeling sick to his stomach.

When they got there the Great Hall was in full swing. There was another 20 minutes until the choir mounted stage and sang a selection of songs. Meanwhile, people were dancing, singing, and eating. He milled about in the crowd with his friends waiting. He felt a sense of apprehension. What if it was someone absolutely horrifying? What if she hated him? Mostly likely, he thought in retrospect, she probably would hate him.

Finally, the moment he had been waiting for came. The choir was on stage. There was a series of clapping and Scorpius observed each girl in detail. They all wore matching clothes. The girls all wore sky blue dresses with black bows tied around the waists and cute black shrugs to keep their bare shoulders warm. The boys wore black pants and light blue shirts to match the girls' dresses. Professor Flitwick, forever the conductor of the Hogwart's Choir stood in front of them elegant baton in hand.

Then, they started singing. Beautiful nameless songs that put him to ease. He easily recognized several of them from his nightly eavesdropping. There were, however other songs that he didn't recognize that they probably sung during morning practices of the times he couldn't make it. He was observing a dark haired, whose hair bored on dark ginger and had just determined that she wasn't the girl, when he heard the voice. He had been so consumed in observing the girls that he hadn't noticed a certain red head walking onto the podium. She was singing a solo that he recognized too well; it was from the first time he had heard her voice. Now that he saw her crystal clear, he couldn't believe that he hadn't realized it was her before. The hair was the right shade; her features where just what he had imagined and dreamed. Then, something struck him. He knew her name. It was a name that had been insulted several times during dinner time conversations at his house or among his friends. It was Rose Weasley.

Her mouth was open in a circular O and her eyebrows raised and she reached a particularly high note. The curve of her pink lips were clear and defined. Her being radiated. It was the voice he had heard numerous times in the hallways and dreamed of even more. He closed his eyes and saw her face against his eyelids and couldn't help but smile, despite the shock of his realization.

He opened his eyes to find the room in applause. He started clapping however subtle that it was. A Malfoy clapping for a Weasley, would fuel the gossip for ages. He felt a sudden yearning to talk to her. Call her his own. The choir went on, they sang duets, quartets and every combination possible. Scorpius was very disappointed after they left the stage, because he had lost sight of Rose. Now that he knew who she was he couldn't stop thinking of her. He sighed and grinned like an idiot. His friends seemed curious at his change of heart from mopping to grossly happy.

He was having a great time talking and watching people make a fool of themselves on the dance floor. It was then that he saw her. A flash of her red hair as she exited the Great Hall onto the grounds.

It was by on impulse that he followed her. He now realizes that he shouldn't have. He should have left it alone. Thought things out, seeing as he had just identified the identity of the love of his life. But he didn't think things out, he just pushed straight ahead, he was rash, it would be his undoing.

He barely noticed that he pushed himself outside or that she had turned to see who had followed her. He saw her face for the first time in his life close up, and he was enraptured. Her cheekbones were blended into her round soft cheeks and her eyes were a beautiful blue. Just like the dress she wore. He thought for the thousandth time that day that she looked like an angel.

Then he realized something was wrong. There was an unmistakable coolness in her eyes, as if she were judging him. He opened his mouth to utter a greeting anything to keep the harsh words he knew that were to come. This was stupid, this entire enterprise had been stupid, he was he kidding, she was a Weasley.

"What do you want?" Her voice washed over him like ice. It didn't have the warmth he had heard when she was singing or enjoying a conversation with her friends. It was cold, withdrawn... calculating. He felt as if he were being doused in a cold shower. Her eyes pierced into his and he knew he couldn't do this. Those normally soft eyes bore daggers into him, accusing him of things he hadn't done, things he hadn't said. He couldn't bare it. He ran. Like the coward he was, he ran.

Days passed, months, perhaps it was years, Scorpius had lost track of time. In reality he knew it had only been an hour. An hour seen he had fled like the coward he was. He lay flat on his back looking blankly at the ceiling. Seeing, yet not. Breathing, without the will to live, wishing he could fade into the ground. In what universe did he think the girl would accept him if he just walked up to her unannounced? That she would even consider talking to him. The girl he didn't even know! Not even that, a Weasley! Approached by a Malfoy… and she had pushed him away. More like he ran before he could be pushed away. He had missed it, the chance. For some reason, he felt as if he had always known he would. The girl was too good for him, he had just proved that by running like a bat out of hell.

He spent the following weeks steering clear of the Weasley clan, not to mention his friends, and not to forget the rest of the Hogwarts population. No one really noticed though. As a Malfoy, he had always been highly unpopular. By this time in his life people barely noticed his existence, since he had led a rather quiet life at Hogwart. Talking in class and only to close friends, people never got too near. His friends didn't seem to notice. They still played their annual tricks and made their snarky remarks. He as a friend did too, but without heart or compassion towards his actions.

A month after the incident he was walking through the library, when he saw a girl struggling to get a book from a high shelf. He barely registered that she was there, but he felt he should do something about it. Something kind. Unthinkingly, almost unwillingly he took it down from the shelf for her. He held the book in his hand and realized who was standing before him. It was her. He saw a defiant look flash across her eyes and he realized how this must look. In all common sense it seemed as if he intended to take the book as his own or possibly taunt her for being too short to reach the book like one his friends would have done, like he would have done if it had been anyone else. He hastily handed the book to her and walked away. Half hoping she would call him back, half hoping she wouldn't. The latter became the truth of history and he lived on.

Despite, the miserable toll his life had taken he still took to eavesdropping on choir lessons. Then, one day, as he was walking down an empty corridor not long after the latest choir lesson had ended, he heard someone call his name. He turned surprised beyond belief that he recognized the voice and that it belonged to that girl, Rose. He turned and he saw her heading straight towards him a look of apprehension, yet confidence present on her face.

"Can I help you?" he asked and he was sure that his eyes were glaring at her, but he couldn't help it, it had become a part of his face over the years.

"I just wanted to say sorry, I guess," she said, looking suddenly unsure, maybe it was his glare, but he couldn't seem take it off his face.

"Sorry?" he repeated a hint of disbelief in his voice. Maybe it was her presence, maybe it was his inherent stupidity that created these terrible responses; he would never know.

"That night, outside, after the Christmas Ball," she said "I judged you and thought you had come outside to taunt me about my voice, like everyone else had… and… I'm sorry. That clearly wasn't your intention."

He shrugged, so maybe it wasn't exactly what he had hoped for. As a matter of fact he didn't know what he had hoped for. An apology hadn't been expected. Not really. "What did you want to say?" She asked softly as if his quiet demeanor was rubbing off on her.

"What?" Scorpius asked sounding incredibly stupid, he hated sounding stupid; he hated people that sounded stupid. He mentally berated himself. He needed to stop these one worded responses!

"That night, when you followed me outside, what were you going to say to me?" she said pronouncing each word perfectly. Her voice couldn't help but remind him of her beautiful singing voice.

"Your voice. I love your voice," he hadn't expected it to come out as such a blunt statement, but there was no taking it back now. He mentally prepared himself for all the possible bad scenarios that could result from his honesty, but right now, when his brain had stopped functioning, he couldn't help it. Being lovestruck truly sucked.

She blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting that at all. Perhaps one of the few insults he had thrown her way during the past five years during one of his insulting session with his friends or a rude comment about a recent test, but definteley not a compliment "Thank you?" It sounded like a question, but a warm smile spread across her face and he couldn't help but smile back. Then, they were both laughing.

She looked genuinely happy and the smile on her face looked so warm that he couldn't help, but utter the next words, "I like you. Not just for your voice, but personality wise too." He had been borderline stalking her. It wasn't a loud confession per se, but if there had been people in the currently empty hallway, they would have heard it.

She giggled and raised a delicate eyebrow "You don't even know me."

"I've been watching you," Scorpius confessed, half ashamed at how creepy it was, and half relieved that it was out.

"I've been watching you too… I… I like you too," she responded, looking as if she couldn't quite believe that they were having this conversation.

There was an awkward silence that usually came with such open confessions. "Er… maybe we should start from the beginning," Scorpius suggested, "as if we are eleven again."

"Without social prejudices," Rose added, smiling slightly. They both knew that said prejudices had existed.

"Before the unnecessary insults," Scorpius couldn't help but remember how rude he had once been to her.

"From the beginning," she summarized taking his hands in hers. "Together?"

It was a suggestion and a risk. Both that he was willing to take. It wouldn't be easy; relationships never are, but he knew from then on, it would be worth it. They were worth it.

"Together." They smiled.