Author's note: I've changed Jonah's name to Ash in order to keep with the plant theme of the kids' names. And I've decided to post this early, but don't get used to it :)

Rose awoke to the smell of freshly baking bread, which in her opinion was a pretty good way to greet the day. She flopped her legs onto the floor, her torso still resting on the bed. She slowly pushed herself up so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. Gathering all of her strength she stood up. Needless to say, Rose was not a morning person. She also had not slept well, she had woken several times throughout the night, pushed into consciousness by dreams that she could not remember. This was pretty out of the ordinary, as she always remembered her dreams in vivid detail.

She shuffled down the corridor and brushed her teeth, eyeing the purple shadows beneath her eyes. Rose dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of jean shorts and a shirt that read I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, it had been a 10th birthday present from her parents the previous year. At the sound of her tramping feet on the staircase her father called out.

"Another country heard from! Morning Rosie," he kissed her proffered forehead. "How did you sleep?"

"Terribly, I had weird dreams that I can't remember."

"No flight?" She shook her head. "How odd," her father remarked. Ever since she could remember Rose had spent some portion of every night's dreams soaring through the air. The egg timer on the windowsill dinged. "Ah, that'll be the bread. Maybe some fresh bread and butter will cheer you up." He bent to retrieve the crusty loaves from oven.

"Where are mum and Ash?" Rose asked as she fetched orange juice from the refrigerator.

"Your brother is taking full advantage of the summer holiday and is playing football with his mates. Your mother, bless her, is in the library."

"But it's summer," Rose said, her mouth full of bread.

"You're preaching to the choir, my dear. But she woke up at some ungodly hour with a brilliant idea about lightning imagery in victorian literature and ran to the library as soon as it opened. My guess is she'll be there all day."

"Wow, and I thought I was a nerd."

"Where do you think you get it."

"I always thought I got it from you?" Rose smirked.

"Oi! That's no way to speak of your dad." He munched on the warm bread. "What are you up to today?"

"Ben and I are going to cycle to the library and along the river. I'll probably be back for lunch."

"Ok, be careful." William looked at her closely. This was more than a casual parental warning. Several months ago Rose and her best friend Ben had been biking through the streets of Oxford when a car had run a red light and crashed into her. She had flown several feet in the air before smashing into the pavement with such force that her helmet cracked. She had sat up, seen her mangled bike and had run over to it. Horrified bystanders had dialled 999, despite her protestations that she was fine. An ambulance took her to A&E, where a doctor had confirmed that she was, in fact, fine. She was a little bruised, but was not in any pain. Rose had heard the doctor whispering to her parents that this must have been some sort of miracle, because she should have been dead. She had no lasting damage from the accident, and it was now just a good story and a fading memory. But ever since that day her parents had always been a little worried about her biking through the street, thinking that no one could ever be that lucky twice. Hence, the entreaties to watch out.

"I always am, dad." She smiled and gave him a quick hug before dashing out the door, a helmet in one hand, and a book in the other. Rose buckled her helmet on tightly and rode down the street to Ben's house. Ben and Rose had been best friends since they were three, when Ben's parents had moved into the house three doors down from the Watson's. They had been inseparable ever since, doing everything together: riding their bikes to school, eating lunch together with their other friends, and did their schoolwork together at each other's houses. But as much time as they spent with each other during term, it paled in comparison to their summer adventures. They planned to spend their days riding bikes along the river, where they would swim once it got a bit warmer, they would explore Oxford's museums, and get behind-the-scenes tour of the Museum of Natural History where William was a curator. But the most important part of the summer holiday was the library. Both of them were voracious readers, and so they went to the library every other day in order to get new books.

Ben was waiting by the front gate of his house with his bicycle, helmet on, one foot on the ground and the other on a pedal. As soon as he saw Rose, he pushed off. She quickly caught up with him. They rode in silence, they were the type of friends who just relished in each other's company and new that they did not need to fill every moment with words. They rode with the wind in their hair and the sun on their faces and that indescribable feeling of freedom that means summer.

When they reached the library they quickly locked up their bikes and headed into the cool, quiet, world of books. The head librarian was sitting at the front desk, he looked up when they came in. Professor D was a man of about 70 with a shock of bright white hair and kindly eyes half-hidden behind round tortoiseshell spectacles. He had been the head librarian of the main Oxford library for decades, and when he had retired he began to work at the local public library. Rose had known him since she was a child, and he was like a grandfather to her. It had been he who had given her Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone for her eighth birthday. Every other day of their summer holiday Rose and Ben would come to the library for their books. Professor D would give each of them a book, which would be read that day, and then the day after they would swap and read the other book. They repeated this ritual throughout the summer.

"Good morning Ms Watson, Mr Young. I have been expecting you." His tone was foreboding, but they could see the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eyes. "Thoughts on the first batch?" On the first day of the summer holiday they had rushed over to the library first thing in the morning.

"I loved The Secret of Platform 13" Rose said, "it was amazing. I also read one of the Sherlock Holmes stories you recommended. And Ella Enchanted was fun, but not my favorite. Professor D nodded, and turned to Ben, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"I definitely liked The Secret of Platform 13 more than Ella Enchanted, it was too much of a girls book for me."

"My dear Mr Young, books are not gendered, you need only be a person with humanity to appreciate words." While his words were reproachful, his voice was kind. Ben nodded in understanding. "Now, for today," he paused, his eyes narrowing, "Ms Watson, what is the matter, you seem rather melancholic this morning." Rose looked up, startled by the question.

"I'm alright, I guess. We finished Harry Potter last night, and now it's done forever and I already miss it!" Her voice cracked on the last few words, which she tried to hide with a cough.

"Ah, but my dear, you know that you can always return to the books, you can reread them one hundred times. Which actually brings me to today's books. Now I know you've read one of these already, but it should help cheer you up." He drew two paperbacks from underneath his large mahogany desk and slid them across towards the children's waiting hands. "For you Mr Young, A Wrinkle and Time, and for you Ms Watson, Matilda, I know that's one of your favorites."

"Thank you Professor D," they chorused, "see you in a few days." He nodded and said his goodbyes before they left the library for the bright sunshine of the outside world. They trotted to their bikes, the books clutched in their hands.

"So you finished Harry Potter last night?" Ben asked as they swung onto their bikes. Rose nodded her ascent. "And you're upset about it." It was not a question, but a simple statement of fact. Again, she nodded. "I was too," he laughed, "you remember?" Ben had only been allowed to read Harry Potter once he turned 10, so he had spent the year flying through the novels in order to catch up to the Watsons. He had gone a little too quickly and ended up finishing the final book about a month previously.

"You were a mess," Rose chuckled, "you had this haunted look and you kept saying 'what am I going to do with my life?' I thought it was hysterical, but now I get it." They spent the rest of their bike ride talking about the ending, what they'd thought and what they would have changed. They discussed what house they would be in if they went to Hogwarts: they agreed that they would both have been immediately sorted into Ravenclaw. "Nerds forever!" They had yelled out.

Talking with Ben numbed some of the lost feeling she had deep in her stomach, and she was able to keep her mind off of the fact that William would not be reading anything to them that night.

They spent the rest of the day biking along the river. They had popped into Ben's house for a few minutes to grab some lunch and had eaten it under a tree, both of their noses contentedly in their books.

Rose lay in bed, Matilda propped open in front of her. She finished the final chapter and placed it on the table by her bedside. Then, like every child (and adult, if we're being perfectly honest) she thought about trying to move something with her mind, just like Matilda had. She stared at her bookshelf, trying to find the perfect book. She chose a slim volume and concentrated. She envisioned the book rising from the shelf and flying into her hands. She pulled with her eyes, willing the book to come to her.

And then it did.