A/N: Go ahead, you can shun me if you want - I honestly do deserve it.

I want to apologize for putting this off for so long...if you're still reading, I do have somewhat of an excuse: exams and everything prevented me from continuing, and I do admit to a bit of writer's block over the holidays, but now I think I've got at least one foot back on the ground and I think I can plow on.

Again, I sincerely apologize for my procrastination and I really hope this will not happen again!

Oh, and if you hate The Police, you are no longer my friend.

Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic

Hello Mum and Dad,

I hope the sun's been treating you well in London as it has to us here in Hogwarts - I can practically feel summer approaching! I'm preparing for my exams, which seem to be approaching quicker than ever, but I'm pretty sure I'm not as stressed out as Rose is, with the NEWTs and all. Hopefully she'll be in good shape for when the actual exams come, because right now she looks as if she never got a good night's sleep in years. It kind of worries me.

Actually, now that I mention it, Rose has been acting a little out of character in the past few months or so, and I can't figure out why. She's been sort of avoiding us lately, and she would leave the common room at odd times. She makes excuses about leaving, usually something farfetched like head duty when it's only two in the afternoon. I talked to Hugo and Albus about it; Hugo's as clueless as ever and Albus seemed to have shrugged me off. I have a feeling he knows something, and I'm going to find out what.

Maybe you guys can get something out of her? If it's something she doesn't want to tell me or Hugo or anybody else, surely she'll be able to open up to you. Her behaviour is very worrisome, and I really want to know if she's alright or not.

It's time for dinner, which means I have to end my letter. I hope time will fly by so I can finally come home!

Love,

Jane

Ron's eye was twitching by the time Hermione had finished reading their youngest daughter's letter to him. His hands were balled up into quivering fists, shaking dangerously on his lap. Ollie mewed worriedly and thought carefully about striding over to comfort him; instead he turned the other way and clambered onto Hermione's lap.

"Malfoy," Ron hissed through gritted teeth; Hermione rolled her eyes and Ollie even shook his head, "it's him, I know he's the reason behind this. Oh, that boy is going to pay…"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione muttered exasperatingly, "just because Rose is acting strange doesn't mean that it's all Scorpius' doing! Maybe she really is just stressed out over exams; I knew I was when NEWTs were coming up."

"But that's just you - you were always off your rocker when something big and school-related was coming up! Rosie can handle anything; she's tough, she's a Weasley! There must be something else bothering her, and I can't think of any other reason besides Malfoy's boy!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air to emphasize his point. Ollie blinked at him twice, then proceeded to lick his paws. Hermione rolled her eyes again as she brandished a quill and parchment, ready to reply to Jane's letter.

"Your strong sense of prejudice never ceases to amaze me." She mumbled as she began scribbling on the parchment; Ron groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. Hermione looked up and her expression softened at the slightest.

"Look, I'm just as concerned as you are, but can't you just let go of the whole Malfoy-is-the-reason-behind-everything-wrong theory? Harry grew out of it, and so should you."

"Maybe I'm not ready to grow out of it." Ron grumbled stubbornly as he crossed his arms over his chest. Hermione shook her head and resumed writing.

"It'll tire you out eventually."

--

The month of May was one of Scorpius' favourite times of the year.

May was in the middle of spring and summer so it was just the right temperature: not too hot with a slight breeze. The sky was a warm blue with not a speck of cloud, and the sun shone brightly over the courtyards and the lake, sending millions of sparkles along its dark waters. He had just finished his first class of the day and now had spare; he had time to soak in as much of the beautiful weather as time permitted.

Lately he had found himself taking notice of his surroundings. It was as if someone had cranked up the volume on the radio, or painted over an old picture with brighter colours; everything looked so alive to him. It was easier to hear the swishing of the leaves as the wind combed through them, and the splashing of fins (and tentacles) flapping against the glassy surface of the lake. The greens, pinks, blues, reds, purples, yellows and oranges of the outdoors stood out even more than they used to; flowers smelled more appealing and the grass always smelled like it was freshly cut.

Everything was beautiful now, for some reason.

He strode casually along the cobblestone pathway, then eventually crossing over to the grass, feeling plush under his shoes. His hands were in his pockets but he could feel his fingers twitching, uneasy and nervous, but on the outside he retained his cool and collected persona. The wind rifled through his messy, spiky hair and his wrinkled clothing as he approached the beech tree, and the girl studying underneath it.

It was like looking into a Renaissance-era painting: everything looked lush, vibrant and extremely detailed. The beech tree's canopy was not enough to cast her entirely in shadow, and the sun poked through the leaves and highlighted parts of her hair, making it look redder than usual as it spilled over her shoulders in waves of soft curls. Her long lashes looked like they were brushing her cheekbones as she concentrated on her textbook. He stood only a few feet away from her, staring and examining her in awed silence, taking in whatever he could.

A few minutes passed and she finally noticed his presence, looking up to stare at him with a pair of eyes so blue that no sapphire would ever compare to. They were as dark as the deepest oceans and as warm as the summer sky. She held him captive under her stare and she was not even aware of it.

"If you were somebody else I would've been a little disturbed." She was smiling now, her lips stretched back over a set of white, straight teeth. He smirked and stepped closer towards her, sitting down when he was close enough. The grass felt cool under his palms as he leaned over to peer at the textbook she was reading. He breathed in her scent - books and her favourite shampoo.

"Arithmancy?" He made a face, "Why is it that whenever I catch you studying you're always doing Arithmancy?"

"Because it's probably the most difficult subject I have, and because I enjoy doing it." Rose replied almost indignantly, shuffling over a pile of parchment. Her eyes scanned the courtyard for anybody that was within a five metre radius, "You know you shouldn't be here...at least not so close-"

"Please don't start that again," He complained, "there's nobody here that would bother to notice, and we can just play this off as if we're studying for NEWTs together. Simple." He then leaned closer to press the side of his head against her neck.

"I don't think they'd be convinced that we're studying if you're doing that." She tried to sound annoyed, but it came out all wrong and she ended up giggling at the end. She leaned away from him for a moment to stare at him; she looked serious again, "But really Scorpius, we shouldn't-"

He rolled his eyes before moving in to kiss her fully on the mouth, not caring if anybody was staring. He felt her resist; she pressed her palms against his chest and feebly tried to push him away, but he knew it would only take a few seconds before she began to gave in - and he never stood corrected. She relaxed and slid her hands upwards towards his hair, and she let him lower her to the soft grass. Soon he was on top of her, careful not to roll over on her books or the ink bottle, immersed in each other. The only reason why they pulled apart a few minutes later was because they were running short of breath.

"Honestly," Her breathing was ragged as he pulled her back up, "how could anyone not see that?" She looked around the courtyard again; nobody was gawking in their direction, and there were not any jaws touching the floor. Scorpius chuckled and reached to tuck a strand of bronze hair behind her ear.

"You must have your uncle's luck." He smirked her favourite crooked smirk and she threw her head back in laughter; it sounded silvery and musical to him. She grabbed her Arithmancy textbook, which had fallen out of her lap due to previous events, and flipped to a certain page.

"Now why don't I enlighten you on a few basic principles to kill the time?" She asked sweetly, gesturing to a complicated looking diagram. A red light went off in Scorpius' head and he backed away instinctively.

"I think I'm gonna go find Holden - y'know, brainstorm on some possible new strategies for Quidditch and such." She laughed at his response and leaned in to peck him on the cheek. His face felt really warm now.

"Alright, alright," She shook her head and he marveled at how every curl of her hair swayed gracefully around her shoulders, "I'll see you later then."

He stood up and began his semi-long walk back to the school, looking over his shoulder once to see that Rose had resumed the position she was in before he came to interrupt her: sitting peacefully underneath the shade of the beech tree with a thick textbook in her lap, the light wind moving her hair and ruffling her clothing - a Renaissance masterpiece.

Every little thing she did was magic to him.

--

What started off as a perfect day came crashing down later on in the early evening.

"Letter," Lyra had told her brother the minute he walked into the common room. She threw Scorpius a black envelope with his name etched in silver ink - it was from their father.

Normally Draco never wrote to his children, which was the reason why Scorpius and Lyra were a little shocked to discover that he had taken the time out of his busy schedule to send one - and so late in the year too. Scorpius moved to sit down in the leathery armchair by the fire; Lyra sat in the one opposite of him. She waited patiently as he tore the envelope open. The elegant, gothic-like script was surely Draco's handwriting.

"Scorpius,

It is nearly the end of your final year at Hogwarts and I am writing to you to remind you that NEWTs is swiftly approaching. You are expected to pass these exams with high enough marks to continue in my place at the are next in line in our family tree and there is a lot to be expected of you. Do not fail me or your grandfather, and don't you dare let that Weasley girl or Potter boy upstage you."

"Didn't even bother to sign his name at the bottom?" Lyra joked dryly; Scorpius rolled his eyes and tossed her the letter. He ran a hand through his hair and glared at the fire.

Since his days with Rose thoughts of his father and the rest of his family were nonexistent; he never worried about what Draco or Lucius thought of him as he spent more and more time with Rose - all that mattered was that he was with her. Their last names did not exist when they were together, which made things even more blissful.

"He expects too much of you." Lyra said quietly. He turned to face his sister, who was still looking over the short letter, "Sometimes I wonder what goes through adults' heads. It doesn't seem like they realize we're living in a much more different world than the one they grew up in."

He felt a little relieved and scared at the same time; he was relieved because he knew now that he was not the only one who thought that way, and scared because he had a feeling that Lyra was implying something. Before she had the chance to pry further he stood up and made his way towards the entrance.

"Patrol." He said quickly when he read the surprised expression on his sister's face.

--

He still was not in the mood by the time he reached the prefects' common room; Rose automatically knew there was something wrong and tried to talk him into explaining, but he distanced himself by replying vaguely that they had a duty to fulfill.

He strolled the stone hallways in a strained silence, his hand brushing against the ornate engraved patterns on the wall. The burning torches flickered wildly in his eyes; his face was expressionless.

Just when things were getting better, his bloody father had to write him a letter to remind him of all the things he had been trying so hard to avoid. He had no idea what he wanted to after Hogwarts but the idea of sitting all day in an office with stuffy middle-aged witches and wizards did not sound appealing at all.

You are expected to pass these exams with high enough marks to continue in my place at the Ministry.

He was expected to follow in his father's footsteps, and Lucius', and all the other males in the Malfoy family. He was doomed to a colourless, prejudiced life spent nine to five underground with people he had to pretend to like.

Everyone knows who you are; you can't escape your name, his conscience nagged.

He did not want to be a Malfoy anymore; he wanted to be somebody else.

Like who? Albus Potter? I bet you'd bloody love to step into his polished shoes, wouldn't you? Live the life of the son of a famous wizard who saved the world; you've got everything and everyone at your feet.

Potter's life was not as glossy and perfect as everyone thought it was; he will live the rest of his life being compared to Harry - how was that perfect? Everyone would expect him to grow up to be just like him.

But that's exactly what's happening with you and your old man, isn't it? Guess you and Potter aren't that different after all - you were both born underneath a shadow.

At least Potter was not dubbed as the reincarnation of Voldemort the day he was born.

Then that makes you special don't you think? Was it really coincidence that you were born on the day Lord Voldemort stormed into James and Lily Potter's home and struck them down with that Killing Curse?

Of course it bloody was - it was not like he had world domination written in his planner.

He shook his head violently as he turned the corner, only to collide with Rose. He was the bigger one of the both of them, so he was able to regain his composure, but she was toppling to the floor. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to her feet with ease.

"Sorry," He murmured distractedly, and stepped aside to continue walking, but Rose grabbed the back of his collar and pulled him back to her.

"I want to know what's going on," There was hurt reflecting in her eyes and a wave of guilt washed over him, "you've been acting differently in such a short amount of time."

"It's nothing, really," He shrugged his shoulders, but Rose stayed put, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowing. He sighed and scratched the back of his head, "I'm serious."

"You're worse at this than I am," She smirked; she stepped closer to him and rested her arms on his shoulders, clasping her hands together behind his head, "don't shut me out, Scorpius; I want to help you."

He was so used to keeping everything to himself; the feeling of somebody reaching out to him was something he was unfamiliar with and he shied away, ducking out of her grasp and turning his back on her.

"It's complicated, Rose." He said.

"We still have at least an hour before we're finished." She replied. He shook his head in defeat and turned around to face her; she was not going to let this one go.

"My father sent me a letter today." He said bluntly, and she nodded, gesturing for him to continue. He moved over to the wall and sat down; she followed suit and leaned against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and intertwined their fingers as he pressed his chin against the top of her head. He explained how his father and grandfather expected so much of him, and how he did not want to spend the rest of his life working in a stuffy, cramped office. He rambled on about his birthday and the rumour on how he was supposedly Voldemort's reincarnate. She listened patiently, not saying a word until he was finished.

"What do you want to be, then?" She asked, looking up at him curiously. He shrugged his shoulders at the question.

"I honestly have no idea what I want to do...but the sound of sitting in an office from nine to five doesn't sound at all pleasing." He muttered. She giggled and nuzzled his neck affectionately.

"Adults find routines peaceful; they feel safe and sheltered when they follow a schedule. As you grow older you will find anything spontaneous disrupting and nonsensical. It's funny, the way things work." Her voice sounded different, as if she was talking more to herself. His hand left hers and he threw an arm around her shoulder.

"He also left me strict instructions on making sure you and your cousin don't upstage me on exams." He smirked. Rose giggled and shook her head.

"That's a little farfetched, don't you think?" She smiled up at him; Scorpius nodded in agreement and stared ahead of him, at the opposite wall.

"Yeah," He agreed, "I don't think I'll ever be able to beat you in anything. You're too smart."

She swatted his arm. "That's not what I meant!"

"I know what you mean," He turned to look at her; her blue depths were flickering under the torchlight and her cheeks were slightly flushed, "you're...perfect."

"What?" She leaned backwards to study his face properly, "That's completely off topic; what made you say that?"

"I dunno," He reached out and placed his hands on either side of her face, feeling something he never felt before, "I'm just looking at you now and I realize that you're simply perfect. You make everything look better than it should, like I can see all the tiny details and read in between the lines because of you. You make me forget about my father and everything else that makes me feel bad; you drown it out."

Rose was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. Her jaw was slightly slack and her arms were limp by her sides. He drew back, afraid of her reaction, but then relaxed when her mouth curved into a small smile.

"I have never heard you speak like that before, and I must say...I like it." She reached for him and he closed the distance between them by wrapping his arms around her small waist; she tilted her head so that their lips would meet in perfect symmetry. When they broke apart he pressed his forehead against hers; they were both breathing hard.

"If only they taught the kind of magic you can do." He whispered.