This one is a bit longer than the rest, but it clears up a lot of back-story, so I think it's long for a good reason. Oh. And have no, do not, and never will own Harry Potter. Sadly.

I'm tired of my good grades, but I don't say that because I'm Rose Weasley. I want to follow Oléva Copperlin to Hogsmeade and have her apparate me off the grounds, but I don't do that because of my Mother. I want to tell Shawn that he's predictable, but I can't because he's my boyfriend. I wanted to jump on my broom and swipe the snitch from under Malfoy's nose, but I didn't do that because of James.

I'm tired of living through others and I want to stop, but I don't try to because I'm too scared. If I were smart, being happy would be more important to me, but as time rolls on, finding the drive to be satisfied never wins.

My hand slips off the quill and falls sharply on the table, and I inhale against the discomfort.

"Rosie? Maybe I should help you with that?" Shawn pauses as he seems to notice my resentful, if not totally annoyed, stare and adds, "Because of the sling."

"I'm fine, …Shawn"

"It's like the third time—"

"I said I'm fine!" I snap my book shut and shove it into my bag with my working hand, then take my crutches under my arms and stand. "I'm going to the common room."

But instead I follow my feet to the lake and dig my heels into the loamy soil, resting my arm behind me as I gracelessly sit. The lake is my favorite spot on the grounds, uncontested. When I need to think it's always there for me to stare at, and always seems most beautiful when I don't know where else to go or when my head's too vague. And if I happen to carry a Pumpkin Pasty with me, the squid will surface every time, religiously. Fortunately, I always have two on three in my bag's side pocket (me and squid share a fondness for them). Reaching into my bag, a treat is tossed to the water, and, sure enough, a bluish tentacle wraps around it inquisitively before it gets pulled underwater.

It isn't perfect weather for thinking, but it does fine.

We lost our game against Ravenclaw. James put in Watson Cots, and according to Albus, Malfoy was so fast the game had hardly started before it ended. Being the considerate person he is, he thought I might want the stats the moment I got out of the infirmary. I made it a priority to let him know that he was very, very wrong.

To make matters worse, far worse, my plan for giving Malfoy what for has been put on hold by orders of Madame Feverfew. In order for my bones to recover from the spell properly, they have to sit in a sling for a few days, to rest. Recoup, she said.

Madame Feverfew is a blithering idiot. What's the point of healing if the spell itself could hurt you?

Now how am I supposed to find closure? Just talk it out? In case it wasn't clear, my family is uncannily gargantuan, and I am in no way exaggerating. I have my mom and dad, Gran Molly and Pop Arthur, eleven cousins, nine aunts and uncles. It's a fair bit of nightmare. Trying to get a word in edgewise is like trying to talk to a quaffel: nothing will come of it.

Still, it isn't as if what has to be resolved could be settled with words. There's too much to be said.

'7/2/2019

Rose,

I literally can't wait to see you. Don't worry too much about my Dad; I'm positive that he'll be relaxed about you coming over. He might not be totally thrilled about who your father is, but he assured me that the past is the past, things are different now, and that he's sure he'll like you if I do. So don't worry so much! I can practically see you pulling your hair out of your head from over thinking.

Mum said you could even stay a few nights, granted we sleep in separate rooms (no shit, Paracelsus.). I know you're going to love the room we set for you. Can't tell you what it's like, though. She said not to bring spare clothes because we have some here. Don't ask me why. I still think she wanted a girl.

Too bad Al couldn't come, eh? Would have had a great time, especially since he'd get to ride my dad's old Nimbus (make sure to taunt him about that). But I suppose that spending the summer studying with Luna Lovegood isn't a terrible second. Dad says everyone thought she was a nutter, but actually ended up the best magizoologist and finding half of the creatures no one believed in!

Still… Dad's old Nimbus.

Must go, Ninel needs help with the cake.

Happy Birthday to Me,

Scorpius'

I pocketed the note and grinned as I looked through my closet. Scorpius was going to be thirteen, hardly a boy anymore, I decided. Everyone knew that you become a teenager when you're thirteen, old enough to legally buy your own broom and order butterbeer. So I couldn't wear my usual summer shorts and sneakers. No. Something special was required.

"Victoire!"

I was met with silence.

"Victoire, pleeaase!"

"What, what? Ro, what's the matter?" stammered my cousin, looking concerned. "What happened?"

I shook my head and pointed to the closet. "I don't have anything to wear to Scorp's house. And I can't show up looking like a little boy!"

Her shoulders and face relaxed as a bemused smile tinkered with her pink lips. Victoire was gorgeous and perfect, or at least she looked it. She had a mean temper when it came to the males in the family, but she was always darling to me. And she knew everything there was to know about being a girl.

"I see, today is his birthday. I almost forgot he was celebrating first at his house. He's here so often, Gran's planning a party here as well. Now," she paused as she stepped over the mess on my floor to reach my closet, "let's see. How about… this one."

She pulled a white sundress out of the cramped space and held it up. I scrunched my nose.

"That one? But it's so boring. I've worn it millions."

"Right. Then…"

She pulled out dresses and blouses and skirts, in blue, pink, black, and yellow. Clothes of all different forms and fits; yet one after another they were turned away. Nothing seemed right.

Victoire sighed and covered her eyes with a long graceful hand.

"Merlin, Ro. You don't have any clothes left."

"But none are right! This one's too blue. That skirt is too long, while the other is too short! I don't have two chances at a first impression."

"Hell, it isn't like you're dating him, luvvie. It's just— hold that thought."

Her blonde hair trailed after her as she practically danced out of the room.

"Here," she beamed, shoving it in my eyes as she bounded through the door. "It's perfect. I'm positive."

It was teal. Teal was my favorite color. It was just the right length, cutting off a few inches above my knees. I eagerly tore off my tank and shorts and took the dress out of her hands.

"Warn me next time, Happy Flasher."

"Shut it, I've known you all my life," I snarked back playfully as I smoothed the dress and stood straight. My eyes grew as I stared at my reflection. "V-Vic. I look like I have… breasts."

"The magic of the right fit. That was mine when I was thirteen. It's lucky, it sounds like a load of waffle, but I have had so much luck in this thing. First date and first kiss in one night, plus, I got asked to three dances in it. I also was the fifty-second person to walk past Honeydukes and got a free ice cream. I know you're calculating, Rose. I know that look. But it's all true."

I nodded and slipped on my flats, ran down stairs while pulling my hair into a messy bun. Whether I totally believed her, I couldn't tell, but there were always some truths in advertising, and there were definitely truths in Victoire's exquisiteness.

"Mum! Gran Molly! I'm heading to Scorpius'! Can I have some floo powder?"

"Oh, dear, wait!" Gran Molly came shuffling in quickly, tucking my hair into place. "Hermione's gone to Diagon Alley to buy your dad some broom cleaner. But she said to enjoy and she'll see you whenever you get back. Ah- don't forget Scorpius' present, yes, that's right."

She threw some powder into the fireplace and shielded my face as the green flames sprung from the ground.

"In, ducky." She held my face caringly, glowing with some sort of pride I didn't recognize. "My, you look lovely. Have a good time."

"The Malfoy's, Covelly," I declared, stepping into the fire. My stomach wrenched as if someone tied a string around it, pulled me forward into a storm of green. Jade squares of light swirled to my left and right and finally, after what seemed like far to long for a short floo journey, I felt the pull again. Gasping against the sharp tug, I fell, eyes shut, tumbling out of the pristine fireplace.

I stood and rubbed my elbow, groaning lowly at the slight ache. Grace was never a particularly strong point for me, something I thought best to change by the time I met Scorpius' father.

"Rose!" Scorpius uttered delightfully, rounding the corner. I rather liked the way his voice sounded, seeing him for the first time as a teenager. He tangled me into his arms and lifted me from the marble ground in a breath-stealing hug.

"Happy birthday, tosser. Put me down."

He smirked. "Tosser, eh? Watch your language, cheeky, I'm thirteen now."

"Point being?"

"Point being that I'm a man now and you have to listen to me on basis of seniority."

"A man," I cackled incredulously. "Hardly!"

"Pardon me, miss, I didn't know that you were picture of a blossoming adolescent!"

My mouth soured into a displeased pout. Suddenly, it felt like all that confidence, all that maturity and femininity from Vic's dress, faded. And then I was just Rose again. Just Ro, Rosie: flavorless, dull Rose.

"You're a right git, you know that? A real git," I grumbled, folding my arms over my non-existent chest.

I tried to identify the look on his face. Surprise, I decided, from the eyebrows and mouth. Scorpius was definitely surprised. Rolling his eyes, his pale face broke into a gleaming, fresh smile and tousled my hair with both hands, shaking it out of its bun.

"You ninny! I wasn't being serious. Swear to Merlin, you have no sense of humor."

"Scorp, no, you're ruining my hair! Stop!" We were all giggles as his hands shifted and scrambled in my curls.

I noticed how close his hands were to my cheek and his face was to mine, and my heart began to pulse like I had just beat James to the snitch. I was aware of every freckle spotting my face as his breath hit them, instantly sure I could give up all of them for this boy.

A tiny voice interrupted us, and Scorpius' house elf, Ninel, bowed low at me. I hated that Scorpius had a house elf, but he treated Ninel well. Even so, he refused to treat him as an equal. Because of his father's upbringing I suppose.

"Young Master, Mr. Malfoy requests you and Young Miss in his study."

I knew that the Malfoy's were rich. Crazy rich. Mum told me. But Draco Malfoy's study was the size of our common room! More! And filled to the ceiling with books and books and books, all on magical mechanics and clocks.

Mr. Malfoy was talking animatedly to the fire, someone chatting through the network, I suspected.

"Yes, so we'll send the grandfather clock off to Austria tomorrow and send the pendants to Perry for reworking next week. Yes… Yes, er, hold on a second, Carol?" He waved us in. "No, no problem, just my son and his frien— yes! The Weasley's girl. Yes, make arrangement, yes. Grand, Carol! I'll see you Tuesday. Yea, bye.

"My apologies, Carol got the two shipments mixed, honestly, she could have assumed. Trusting an entire grandfather clock to Perry. What an idea." He turns to us, a fatigued hand on his forehead.

"Dad, this is Rose Weasley."

He regarded me with a nod. "Your mother is Hermione Granger. Smart girl. Too smart. I hear you take after her. Tell me, what is the stunning spell?"

I gulped, "stupefy?"

"Your typical Boil-Cure has what kind of quill?"

"Porcupine."

"Your father has the social grace of a…?"

"Flobberworm?"

He paused for a second, drummed his fingers on the table, nodded again, and turned back to the fire.

"He likes you," Scorpius whispered, seeming very pleased with me. "Come, let me show you your room." He folded his hands over my eyes. They were cool and slightly damp.

"Scorp."

"Just so you don't peek."

"I won't!"

"Just… just let me? Okay? Please?"

"… Fine. Lead the way, oh birthday child."

I could walk up and down and all through The Burrow and my house even if my eyes had been gouged out. But the Malfoy's was huge and new and the floors were a chilly, smooth marble, and I soon found myself utterly disoriented. I focused on Scorpius' guiding hands.

He uncovered my eyes and the world was all at once full of light. The sun shone a bright yellow in the open room filled with shelves of books and glassware. I walked to the large burgundy chair and brushed my hand against it. Velvet, heavenly and soft. The room smelled of the mahogany desk, of parchment; the sounds of the sea and one of his father's clocks rung against the walls. He pulled against the clear windows and the breeze hurtled in, salted and moist and so fresh.

Supporting myself on the windowsill, I could nearly see all of Covelly and its water.

"Scorp, this is amazing! And we just stuff you in the spare bedroom at my place."

He shrugged. And smiled. And he spoke. "I like my room."

Scorp's birthday wasn't exactly a party, more like a dinner with his parents. But it was fun. Mostly. They had foi gras, which I was no fan of. Still, I learned that Mr. Malfoy was a rather talented dancer, provided that he had enough firewhiskey, and Mrs. Malfoy wasn't anything like I expected. She was warm and sweet and a little bit bonkers.

They were a bit like my family, only smaller and more reserved.

I slept well at night, enjoying the scent of the waves and the desk.

The days following were fantastic as well, we sat on the shore and went swimming and read books and talked about people at school we didn't like. We both agreed that the world would be better off without Gloria Midgen, who was so mean and horrid that even the teachers detested her. Afternoons were spent outside, except for the one day it rained, when I helped his mother bake a cobbler.

One day, before Scorp had woken up, I explored the house and got caught by Mr. Malfoy while tinkering with a music box. At first I was terrified he would be cross, but he smiled and said that it was one of the first things he ever sold. Then he took me to his workshop, where he showed me how to fit gears together and let me help him polish the grandfather clock that was due to be picked up. I hoped that he might offer me a free time pendant, but he didn't. It was okay though, because he was nothing like what my parents said he was.

On my last day, Scorpius brought me to the basement and we dug through the piles of old clothes and heirlooms, searching for his old bicycle. Once it was found, the tires dusty but still firm, we wheeled it out of the basement, struggling up the ramp, set it on the hill towards the sea, and grabbed a bag of fruit.

"On."

"What?"

"On. The handlebar. On."

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea. With this hill we'd catapult into the ocean," I gulped.

"Shut up and sit. You worry more than my Mum."

I bit my lip and hoisted myself onto the handlebar, gulping at the height of the hill and then at Scorpius, worried. What if he didn't brake in time? I couldn't afford to be hurt when I was trying out for Quidditch.

His soft eyes stared into mine, and he reassured, "I won't let you get hurt. I promise."

I held tight to the bar, eyes shut. "Okay," I said breathlessly, waiting for the sense of motion to bubble in my stomach. "Okay."

I felt him begin to pedal. The bike jerked into motion, gained speed, went faster. Slowly, we began to tilt. The cobblestones hit the wheels hard, the bike shifted roughly under me, painful but exhilarating all at the same time. I opened my eyes and I noticed him laughing behind my shoulder and I laughed too. We hurtled down the street, laughing, most likely drawing stares, the wind blasting against our faces, turning our cheeks rosy. This was joy. This was love. I knew it. I was positive.

I heard a screech. Scorpius was slowing the bike to a slow stop in front of the stone wall that separated the town from the water. I let out a pent up breath I never knew I was holding.

"See?"

"Yes! That was… oh my god. Fantastic!"

"I told you. You have to trust me on these things." He puts his hands on my shoulders.

"Mhmm," I said dreamily, not quite able to focus on what was going on around me.

We didn't talk much after that. Dragging the bike onto the beach, we sat on the soft sand, our knees becoming red and sore from the grains against our skin. The ocean billowed against the shore, hissing as it did. Covelly was definitely the most perfect place on earth.

"I don't want to go," I groaned, squinting my eyes in the low sun. "I want to stay here forever."

"Forever?"

"Forever. Right on here on the beach."

"You wouldn't miss your family?" he mused. His hands sifted through the sand, collecting what pebbles remained.

"Maybe Victoire and Albus. But I'd be okay. I have you with me. I have your mum and dad if I get really lonely."

"You're happy?"

"Blissfully," I sighed, turning my cheek against the sand to face him. His eyes, given to him by his mother, looked like his father's silver ones in the sun.

"You can come here for Christmas hols if you like. And we can keep your room as is. It can be yours. If you like."

"But your father's company must be busy and I'll just be in the way. I couldn't ask for something like that."

"My father is the one that asked me to offer this to you. He says he could use help around the workshop. New clocks and such," Scorpius told me, grinning.

My smile sagged. It was only for me to work.

"I don't want to come to work, Scorp! I could go to my own house for that!"

He barked out a laugh and covered his eyes with a hand.

"Stupid. My dad doesn't say anything. Anything. Asking if you can come back over is his way of saying he really likes you."

I sat up to watch the sun drop below the horizon. As the stars started to appear, growing more opaque with every time I looked away, I wondered how on earth I could leave a place so perfect. A person so perfect. Even with his imperfections. Even when he's insensitive and dense, when he gets defensive over stupid things.

"Scorp, say aahhh."

I held a raspberry in front of his mouth, waiting for his lips to steal it away from my fingers. They brushed the tips. He chewed, smiled, and grabbed one of his own.

"Your turn." He held it in front of me and I paused, looking past the berry and into his stare, my chest pounding hard, and my face warm. I leaned and opened my mouth slightly, lingering so he could place it on my tongue. He pulled it back, smirking. My brow furrowede and I leaned further, determined. Giggling, I pushed my face forward to bite it out of his hands. But I found that rather than having the sweet raspberry between my teeth, Scorpius' lips covered my own gently. His lips were very soft, and I could taste the fruit on them. Tart. Sweet. Kissing back, my stomach turned over itself and my head was light and all was flawless.

"Rose." His voice was raspy and quiet; his face was just a few inches from mine.

"Yes?" I asked breathily.

"We should probably get going."

I agreed, forlorn, until he grabbed my hand and bent slightly to kiss my cheek.

I never thought going up a hill could be better than going down. But Scorpius took my hand all the way up, and though we didn't speak it didn't feel as if we needed to. As we reached the top, we let the bike drop to the side and I kissed him again, not truly caring if I was only twelve or if his mother saw us. I just wanted to be as close to him as possible. To feel him gasp in surprise at my attack.

We ran inside, up to his room, and his mouth crashed against mine, his hands in my hair, on my waist, and I relished every minute we had left together. It was tame, yes, but feelingful and alive and electric in its tameness. His bed was large and plush as we sat on it, our lips linked.

The door opened and we sprang apart, avoiding the others' eye. Mr. Malfoy stood in the doorway looking very cross, his posture stiff and straight. My face burned with what I imagined to be a deep, red blush. With a quick glance, I saw Scorpius was fairing no better.

"Scorpius, I suggest you straighten up," he said with a strained, chiding voice and nearly clenched teeth, "There is someone downstairs waiting for you."

We stood and brushed our clothes straight, laughing lightly at being caught. He tucked a stray strand behind my shoulder before clenching my hand in his and leading me down to the parlor. As the room came into view when we walked down the stairs, I noticed an old man with a stance like steel framework, cold and firm. His hair was like Scorpius' and his father's, only longer and wrapped into a coil that reminded me vividly of a snake.

"Who is that? Scorp?"

"My grandfather. Lucius." His mouth was straight and thin and pressed tight. He held my hand in a vice grip.

I never thought Scorp could look tense.

But I had heard of Lucius Malfoy. Kindness and mercy were not among the traits used to refer to him.

"Scorpius Hyperion. You will stand straight when in my presence," the man scolded, his cane brandished at his side. "I hear that you got sorted into Ravenclaw… quite different from the family, would you not say?"

"I didn't choose, grandfather."

"Yes, but perhaps asking would have lead you down the proper path. Ah. I suppose you like your house and think it a decent place of decent people, yet still, child, there are those that, even with those of the sharpest wits, do not recognize the significance in heritage and blood."

"Your reason for coming, grandfather?" The words almost sounded like a hiss as he spoke them. Not the boy I knew. My hand was beginning to hurt under his.

Lucius Malfoy narrowed his eyes and his hand drifted towards his wand.

"Simply to be informed of your studies. I am—" his eyes fell to me and he raised an eyebrow, almost as if he hadn't realized my presence earlier. "Scorpius Hyperion, who is this."

"This is my friend."

"And would I be mistaken in assuming she is a Weasley?" He demands quickly, the neutral aura dissipating into the very air of the parlor.

Fearful of Scorp's stress, I made the mistake of answering. "And a Granger, sir."

"Did I address you, miss? No, I think not, so if you please. I asked my grandson a question."

He didn't answer. He just stood, staring at the couch, frozen.

"What is her name?"

"Rose," he said hoarsely.

"Ah," Lucius spat, "firstborn of the Mudblood and the Bloodtraitor. How far we have sunk, our pride and status all gone, because YOU," he points towards Mr. Malfoy, saliva flying savagely from his mouth, "decided to wed a squalid halfblood! I thought the clocks were enough, but I assured myself, 'no, this is just a phase.' And then you muck around with a filthy excuse for a witch, and produce him, who is obviously NO DIFFERENT."

I waited… and waited, for someone to say something. For Scorpius to whisper some sort of comfort or even soothe my now tearing eyes, but all were silent and focused on Malfoy Senior. And it is as if I only existed when spoken to.

Lucius lifted a stray strand of red hair away from my face, sneering.

"Utter dirt, Draco, really. And Scorpius, if you think I don't see your mussed clothes, not to mention her wrinkled attire, you have assumed far too much. Putting your lips to this. Couldn't you at least have Ninel clean her?"

He leaned down to look me in the eye, and his orbs were so light it seemed like there were only his pupils glaring at me. A finger of his picked a tear off my face and examined it like it was too contaminated to touch other humans.

"You do not belong here, girl. Go to your splintered sty and cry there."

His lip curled meanly and he spat on my face, almost laughing at the hurt and alarm in my expression.

"I should hope that this residence is in better condition when I return."

And with a snap and a raised wand, he was gone. And Mr. Malfoy and Scorpius were still, silent, and avoiding my eyes. As if I truly was filth. Too low for them to talk to.

I waited, unable to cease my hysterics, for him to comfort me as he always has, as I thought he always would.

"Scorp?" I put a hand on his wrist.

Nothing happened. I was nothing more than a ghost to him.

"Accio dress."

I grab the teal dress out of the air and stormed to the fireplace and threw some floo powder in, ignoring the first burning flames of the portal.

"The Burrow," I choked, staring at Scorpius as he watched me leave, disappearing into that nauseous world of green.

I pushed myself into my gate and marched up the stairs loudly, slamming open Victoire's door. She and Teddy sat on her bed, hands on the other, mouths locked, before ripping apart at the noise. I tried to block the far too recent memory of my very first kiss out of my mind at the sight.

"Ro, what—"

"You can have your good for nothing dress back!" I screamed as I hurled the dress at her floor.

"Rosie, what happened," she pleaded, grabbing my shoulder, which I ripped away at the moment of contact.

"Don't touch me! Don't you dare touch me!"

Running from her bewildered face, I threw open the door to my cramped summer room and launched myself onto the bed, half screaming, half crying, as I tried to drain myself of every last memory of Scorpius Malfoy.

I told Albus first. Not about the kissing, but about his grandfather and his lack of reaction. At first he didn't believe me; Scorpius was nice to everyone. But as he sent letter after letter that faired no response, he began to see the truth in my words.

I decided to confront him at school, but realized that he was gone the minute we took our seats in the Great Hall. Of course at first I believed it was just a sickness or shame at seeing me. But it was soon very explicit that he wouldn't be at Hogwarts for his third year. So I kept him off my mind with endless Quidditch training and practice and games. But dreams of him would always surface; memories of our first and second year would always sneak back in.

The next year he began to finally fade. Bitter, yes, I was. But he was gone.

And now he's back. And back in my mind.

And no one really cares. Just like he was at his house, everyone is passive. Even Albus.

But I remember clear as day. And I will make that very, very clear to him.

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