Author's Note:

Life and death are for me two very sensitive matters. I tried to write this chapter in the best way possible, very carefully. I would like to apologize if my approach isn't good enough or if there's something here that troubles you. I'm open to opinions.

As I'm sure you have understood by now, this story is not simply Rose/ Scorpius. I'm trying to show many different aspects of live when "all was well". Also this is my first big story and the one I'm basically working on at the moment. Thus, I try to "scratch the surface" and show feelings and thoughts. Since, this is the 10th chapter, I'd like you to leave me your opinion on my writing, if possible.

And one last thing: A big "thank you" to everyone who is reviewing, especially to those who leave feedback in every chapter. You really help me and sometimes you make me smile with what you say. Reviews make stories and writers better, so if you add this story to your story alert list why don't you leave a word? Anyway, I won't bother beg anyone about it.

Special thanks to my beta, Erie. She is doing great work in this story.

I don't own the characters just the plot. I don't think I have to repeat that again.

Enjoy reading.

What a heart is beating for

Life is a very fragile thing. One small word, one moment, one simple movement is enough to break it. Something so important can disappear so easily.

But those who leave are the happy ones - their afflictions and errantry in this vain world are over.

It is those who stay behind who we shall pity. The loss of a loved one is always a terrible event in one's life; the consequences of such an event influence and sometimes change the paths of the living. When you truly love the one who is gone, you need great strength to move on. Yet, your loss is a mark, stuck in your life and soul forever.

Central Cemetery, London, 09:43

His eyes were full of tears. They were tears of pain, hate and anger. Tears of desperation.

But he had no intention of letting them fall anytime soon. At least, not in front of these people; these hypocrites who hid their smiles behind frozen masks of severity.

How dare they? How could a man's death please them? He knew very well that his father wasn't a saint. He was aware that during his youth he could easily be called a devil. Draco Malfoy had done terrible things and had been an awful person, humiliating everyone and everything - taking advantage of his wealth and background.

But he had changed. He hadn't remained a spoiled child forever. He'd had the virtue to learn from his mistakes and that made him a good man, devoted to his family.

Proof of that: his wife, Scorpius' mother - a small and fragile woman - whose eyes had run dry of tears. Her face was more pale than her son's - if possible - and she was staring blankly at something in the distance.

When Lucius finished his speech - a very short one, talking more about life and death than about his son - she felt her knees weaken. Slowly, she fell to the ground and a gasp of pain escaped her lips. Her legs hurt from the weight of her body falling on them but she didn't care. The tears had returned to her eyes and she started crying hard as her hands unconsciously rose to her face and scratched her cheeks painfully.

Scorpius kneeled next to her and hugged her tightly. These moments, when her heart was breaking, his was breaking with it. He could be brave through the loss of his father; he could ignore the fake smiles everyone was giving him, the insults they had for his family; as long as his mother was alright. But if something happened to her… he knew he would die at the same moment.

Asteria was always the one to support their family. Her laugh and joy gave him and his father strength and courage to move on and pass all difficulties. She was the one to help them through hard times with hard decisions. But now who would support her?

She knew her son would. Taking one last look at her husband, Asteria hid her face into her boy's chest.

And then, Scorpius Malfoy did the unexpected: he closed his eyes and prayed for his father's soul and his mother's life.

* * * * *

They were the hardest days of my life. I couldn't believe that he was gone. That he wouldn't be near me anymore to guide me, to help me, to smile faintly, to enlighten my days. I didn't want to believe it.

And when I realized that I would never see him again, I broke. Why? Why my husband? Why him? Why? Why? Why?

What had he done? He was a good man, fighting for what was best for his family! That's what he did. And if he made some mistakes, he was just a boy then, he didn't know, he couldn't know!

And it's been so many years… why now? Now that we were so happy… After all those years a man from whom the war had taken much more than his money and pride, a man whose family had been killed by Death Eaters during the war had murdered my husband!

I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't. I screamed, I cried but who would listen to me? Who would care for me? When I married Draco I was scared to death. Scared by his reputation, scared by his cold eyes. But those eyes laughed for me, for me, and me only and his heart wasn't as cold as I imagined. And I was fine. I was fine in the silence of the house, fine when I had to stay severe for hours and hide my overly-it's true - happy nature only for him, when they couldn't see and listen. I was fine playing the ice queen as long as he was next to me, to laugh when we were with our son.

And then I realized what a stupid woman I am. Because Scorpius was there holding me, hugging me tightly, giving me courage. And I knew I would move on one day, because my son would be there for me. Neither me nor Draco had ever told him; but we were always so proud of him. We knew he'd make the right choices, that he would never disappoint us. We loved him so much!

And unfortunately, his father, lost between his duty and name, never had the chance to tell him so. But I know he knows. He showed him, every single day they've spent together.

This is the fair world they've fought for. Now, former - death eaters have the same fate that 'mudbloods' had. What an ironic twist in this fairytale of heroism and justice.

* * * * *

Rose Weasley had attended funerals before; but never one like this. The atmosphere made her feel very uncomfortable; mostly because of the past relationship between her family and the Malfoys.

She felt sorry for what had happened to Draco, recognizing his wife's pain and her cries for justice. It wasn't fair, it simply wasn't, to kill a man for revenge, revenge for something he hadn't done, revenge for actions she was sure he regretted. She had met him once in the past, at a Christmas party and at that moment he seemed a good man; or at least he didn't look like a bad one.

But there was another feeling that she couldn't explain: it was like having a stone in her chest, pressing against her and making breathing so much harder than usual. Scorpius' figure, always cold and distant, but this time vulnerable in some way, took her breath away and confused her incredibly. She had no hard feelings for him anymore - how could she after all - but something had changed inside her.

Rose had the chance to see what she always wondered if there was in him: a soft side.

* * * * *

Scorpius was standing still, looking at his father's grave. At some point his grandparents had taken his mother from his arms and thus he was standing alone in the cold. People were coming to him, saying how 'sorry' they were. He was looking at them without seeing them, accepting their comfort without feeling any better.

This was until two small hands took his and two warm brown eyes smiled to him.

"I'm truly sorry, Scorp." Rose whispered.

She smiled at him, a sad, restrained smile and then left as unexpectedly as she had came, making him loose the last glimpse of light and fall again into darkness.

He stayed stuck in his place with his eyes locked on the space where she had stood. Then Al was there, squeezing his shoulder, so he turned his attention back to the grave.

Rose was ready to get in the car, when she turned to give Scorpius a last look - trying to explain her feelings. And then - seeing him so strong yet so broken, real for the first time - she understood: she was in love with him.

"Rose, are you coming or what?" Hugo said pretty annoyed.

She looked at him uncertain.

"Rose?" her father asked.

"I… I think I'll stay." she started unsure, but continued with certainty: "Don't worry, I'll be with Al." She closed the door and left, leaving her parents more surprised than ever, heading towards Scorpius and Albus.

Ron shook his head with disbelief and started the car. There was no reason to ask her anything at the moment or try to stop her. He would ask his nephew later.

* * * * *

Harry Potter was starring at the Malfoys, keeping his distance. He was studying Asteria's face, her lost expression, her pain. He was staring at her son, his eyes, his movements, his cold expression. And he couldn't help but feel sorry for them.

He was sad about Draco. He was feeling miserable and found himself surprisingly hurt. Since his relations with Draco hadn't changed considerably the past few years - simply improved, he soon realized that the main reason of his sadness wasn't the event itself but the way it had happened and the motives behind it.

Draco Malfoy was guilty of many things. He had been a coward, a manipulator, he had made many wrong choices and Harry had no idea if he had regretted any of his mistakes. He had, however, made an effort and acted politely throughout the years after the war until this day. And no matter how bad he was - Harry thought, realizing he had no idea if he was bad or good, if he had changed or not, and feeling quite bad for it - he didn't deserve to die like that. No one expected it to happen.

We had all thought it was over, he thought, understanding the irony of the situation, the stupidity of their beliefs. But it's obvious it is not. We thought we could heal people's wounds just by destroying their cause. We were wrong. This world, these people, we have a lot to learn, a lot to do. Forgiveness, above all.

Therefore, he smiled sadly at Scorpius, squeezed his hand and left shaking his head, feeling sorry for the poor people, for the poor world, always so hard to change, always appealing to make you try.

* * * * *

"Hey." Rose said in a weak but certain voice.

Albus turned to her, surprised. Didn't Rose know not to play with Scorpius when he was like that? But to his greater surprise his friend remained calm and answer with a small whisper: "Hey."

They stood there, the three of them - each one lost in his thoughts. After a while a heavy rain started. Albus was ready to say something but Rose pulled out of her bag an umbrella - big enough to cover them all.

The rain was getting stronger when Albus heard his brother calling him.

"Albus, we must go home. Come!" James ordered in an imperious tone of voice. In contrast to his brother, he never liked Malfoy and Slytherins like the most of his family, and had never tried to meet Scorpius.

Albus tried to say something to decline, but Scorpius nodded. He didn't want his best friend to get in trouble because of him, nor did he want to fight. Plus, Albus wasn't the best of company when someone had a problem: he was a bit too talkative.

So, after his friend's nod; the middle Potter, remembering that he had to pack for school, sighed and followed his brother. But James stood still, having noticed Rose, who didn't seem to pay attention to him.

"Rose, are you coming?" he asked in the same severe tone he had before.

"I'm staying." she stated with certainty, without even turning to look at her cousin. At the same moment she held Scorpius' hand, providing some condolence in that friendly movement. He felt her warm hand in his and held it tight - thankful for her presence but still scared he had to let go in case the older Potter insisted.

But James, always ready to disagree and argue, was stopped by Albus; who, pushing his brother towards their car, thought that it would be nice for Scorpius to have some company even if it was Rose.

Therefore, the two of them stayed alone in the rain, which was developing into a storm, never talking, simply holding hands; lost again in their thoughts.