AN: Said it before, I'm going to say it again; please forgive my idealistic approach to relationships. I don't exactly know the nuts and bolts of it, most of it is speculation, the rest what I've picked up from the tv, and I know that's not exactly the most reliable resource. Thank you.

3

Lily stared at her father across from her at the table. He was silent, his face impassive. He had shaved and her mum had cut his hair; he looked respectable again. But he wasn't fully recovered. He still had that haunted look about him. Lily wondered if it would leave this time.

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked finally. He had been limping around and clutching it sporadically throughout the week.

"It's just a scratch."

Flora laughed in the other room, her lilting tones carrying throughout the house. Lily's mum said something, the words blurred through the walls.

"I doubt it," Lily muttered boldly.

"What makes you think that?"

"You'd have shown Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione."

He had kept his wound oddly secretive. Usually, he would show off his injuries, telling wild stories of running away from unicorns and thestrals. He hadn't told them any stories, and had stayed in the Burrow, choosing seclusion.

"They haven't been available," he said simply.

"You haven't shown Al."

"You and I both know he only looked because Jim looked."

"You haven't shown me."

A bird chirped loudly outside the window.

"I need to go to work," her father said, standing up gingerly. He left the house. Lily heard him disapparate.

3

A black dress hung on the back of Lily's door. She hated it there. She wanted to burn it, as a matter of fact. It made her feel alone, empty, hardened. She hated it. Throwing her bag over her shoulder, she slid down the stairs and flooed herself to Diagon Alley.

"Oh, Lily," Uncle George said. "You're stocking today."

Lily slipped on her shirt and went out back. There were boxes upon boxes of stuff that needed to be documented. She pulled out a pen and grabbed a clipboard from the pile and started documenting. It was boring. It was long. It was incredibly hot and she was perspiring the whole time. It seemed she was down there for an entire day, moving around goods, verifying the contents of numerous boxes, and counting everything. She hated counting.

"Lily?"

She looked up the stairs. Aunt Angelina was standing in the doorway.

"What are you still doing here? I thought Scorpius was kidding when he said you were here. Didn't George send you off?"

"I…I thought I was still on shift," she admitted, scratching her head. How long had she been down here, exactly?

"Alright, well, Scorpius is upstairs. Why don't you go? Take tomorrow, too. George has worked you hard enough already."

"Thanks," Lily said, dropping her papers in the correct files. She scampered up the stairs.

Scorpius was examining a puking pastel, a new one, and seemed rather skeptical. She slipped next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. The contact made her feel at ease.

"Hey," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"What time is it?" she asked, glancing out at the dark street.

"Almost nine."

"Are you kidding?"

"No."

"How long have you been here for?"

"Not long."

"Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's alright. You want to go get something to eat?"

"Yeah," she said, leaning against him.

3

Lily glanced around the room. Panic briefly gripped her; where was she? A soft snore besides her reminded her; Scorpius's room. She relaxed against his body, taking comfort in his warmth. It had taken away all her feelings of loneliness, discomfort, unhappiness, and replaced them with joy, happiness, and indescribable contentment. Despite some discomfort, it was everything she had thought it would be.

"Hey," Scorpius muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Hey," Lily replied softly.

"How're you feeling?" he asked and gently kissed her cheek.

"Good," she replied.

"Are you…do you need to go home?"

"I told my parents I was staying at Kelsie's," Lily replied, gently placing her hand on his chest.

"My, my, my," he murmured. "You are quite the Slytherin."

"Yes I am."

"What do you think about getting some breakfast?"

"I think we should."

He kissed her again, a grin on his face, and slipped on a pair of green silk pajama pants. Lily started to put on her pants.

"Just wear this," Scorpius said, draping one of his shirts over her shoulders. She stood up and looked at him, grinning sheepishly.

"I…I don't know…"

"We're the only ones here, right now," he said, beginning to button up the shirt that fell to her knees. "Aeolus is probably out riding his broom. My parents are in France for three weeks. And even if Aeolus is around, he won't say anything. I can't tell you the amount of times I've seen him walking around with a girl."

"And do you ever walk around with a girl?"

"Only you," he said, kissing her again.

They walked slowly, Scorpius because he still looked like he was going to fall asleep, Lily primarily because she was awed by the manor. Last night seemed a blur; she couldn't remember much of the house. But now, taking it all in, she was stunned. No cost was spared in making the Malfoy Manner glow with dignity, pride, and décor. It was not a place for little boys, growing up rambunctious and what not. Maybe that was why Scorpius always had his nose in a book; he didn't want to break anything valuable.

"Are you going to live in this house when you're older?" Lily asked, admiring a picture of an ancient Malfoy ancestor in his prime, his eyes and hair matching Scorpius's.

"I'm not the heir; Aeolus is. I'll get a nice cut from the funds, but I won't inherit the manor. I don't want it, either. It's too…foreboding."

"I think it's pretty."

"Now you do. Live here for seventeen years, and you'll change your mind. Even my mum has problems with it sometimes. Her and my father had a row once about redecorating the dining room. He refused to allow it, said it was Malfoy tradition to keep it in the current style."

Lily smiled to herself and gently made her way down the stairs, her eyes still captivated by what she saw around her.

"I'm amazed at you," he said. "It's as if you didn't do the same exact thing last night."

"Last night was overshadowed by your…amazing…performance," she said, her hand squeezing his bottom. He laughed and picked her up, quickly bringing her down the rest of the stairs and into the kitchens.

"What was that for?" she demanded, pulling his shirt down. Then she caught sight of the kitchen. It was empty save for a single house elf, his ornate green pillowcase bearing the Malfoy coat of arms.

"I couldn't wait to eat. What do you want for breakfast? Tiddly will gladly make you anything." He steered her to a chair.

"I…I'll get it myself," she said, finding herself oddly against using a house elf. It wasn't that she didn't trust them or approve of them…ok, maybe it was. Who knew what an unhappy house elf could slip into your pancakes.

"Not here," Scorpius said. "You like waffles? Pancakes? I think I'll have pancakes. Tiddly?"

"Yes, Youngest Master Malfoy, what can I do for you this morning? It will be my pleasure, whatever it might be, Youngest Master!" The little house elf scraped the floor with the tips of his ears.

"Can you make me and Miss Potter, here, some pancakes?"

"Of course, Youngest Master Malfoy, of course! It would be my pleasure! My absolute pleasure, Youngest Master!"

"Why does he call you…"

"Because Aeolus is older," Scorpius interrupted, knowing what she was going to ask. Lily shrugged and decided not to bring up the subject.

"What do you like to drink? Tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Juice, I suppose," Lily said.

Scorpious flicked his wand and two cups appeared, both of them full of orange juice. Before too long, Tiddly had the pancakes on the table, complete with butter and syrup. They ate in silence, both of them content with just the presence of the other. After, they changed and went out on the grounds, both of them getting distracted by the other. They walked in silence for awhile; Lily enamored by the beauty around her.

"So…if you aren't going to live here," Lily said slowly, her imagination captured by a particularly exotic flower. "Where are you going to live?"

"I'm going to live with Olivander for a few years, get the craft of wandmaking under my belt, and then open a competitive shop in Diagon Alley."

"He's going to let you do that?"

"He knows his shop is declining. He's getting old. This year, he'll sell the last of his best wave of wands. He doesn't have any family to pass his shop off to, and he doesn't want to give it to me. Once I open my shop, he'll be able to relax and allow his stock to be sold out, and then he can retire in peace."

"So you're definitely making wands, then?"

"Oh yes. My father isn't terribly excited about it, but someone needs to take over the English wandmaking. It might as well be me. Olivander thinks I have some serious potential. I intend to change the way people look at wands, as well. I mean, the Olivander has it set up now, you get the wand and leave. There's no…there's no…I don't know. The way he does it seems very simplistic. And it isn't. Wands are anything but. Young students need to know that; they need to understand at least some of the subtleties that goes into having a wand of your own. And I've been looking into the advanced cores, and I really think they need to be used more. At least for those who are in a high-magic job. You know what I mean? It'll give them more…power…control…all that sort of stuff they need."

"You're such a…what is it that Molly keeps saying? Dork? You're such a dork, Malfoy," Lily teased, bumping into him.

"Yeah?" He grabbed her wrist and drew her closer to him. "You made one dork very happy last night. Whatever a dork is." He kissed her. "So when do you need to go home?"

"I don't know; what time is it now?"

"Almost one in the afternoon."

"I suppose not for awhile, then."

Lily laid down on the grass, staring at the clear sky and the puffy white clouds. Scorpius lay down near her, resting his head on her stomach. Her hand played with his hair, adoring how soft it was.